Falk.
No, a play.
Guldstad.
The deuce;—I never heard it was your line.
Falk.
O no, the author is a friend of mine,
And your acquaintance also, I daresay.
The knave's a dashing writer, never doubt.
Only imagine, in a single day
He's worked a perfect little Idyll out.
Guldstad [slily].
With happy ending, doubtless!
Falk.
You're aware,
No curtain falls but on a plighted pair.
Thus with the Trilogy's First Part we've reckoned;
But now the poet's labour-throes begin;
The Comedy of Troth-plight, Part the Second,
Thro' five insipid Acts he has to spin,
And of that staple, finally, compose
Part Third,—or Wedlock's Tragedy, in prose.
Guldstad [smiling].
The poet's vein is catching, it would seem.
Falk.
Really? How so, pray?
