HORACE
_furtively tugs at_ FUSCUS'S _gown, pinches him,
nods and winks to_ FUSCUS _to rescue him_.
_furtively tugs at_ FUSCUS'S _gown, pinches him,
nods and winks to_ FUSCUS _to rescue him_.
World's Greatest Books - Volume 17 - Poetry and Drama
Everybody has his own place.
BORE: A tall story--hardly believable.
HORACE: A fact, nevertheless.
BORE: You fire my anxiety all the more to be one of his intimate
friends.
HORACE (_sarcastically_): You've only got to wish. Such are _your_
qualities, you'll carry him by storm.
BORE (_on whom the irony is lost_): I'll not fail myself. I'll bribe
his slaves. If I find the door shut in my face I'll not give up. I'll
watch for lucky moments. I'll meet him at street corners. I'll see him
home. Life grants man nothing without hard work.
[_Enter_ FUSCUS, _a friend of_ HORACE. _Knowing the_
BORE'S _ways, he reads the situation_.
HORACE
_furtively tugs at_ FUSCUS'S _gown, pinches him,
nods and winks to_ FUSCUS _to rescue him_. FUSCUS
_smiles, and with a mischievous fondness for a joke,
pretends he does not understand_.
HORACE (_angry with_ Fuscus): Of course, you _did_ say you wanted to
talk over something with me in private.
FUSCUS: Ah, yes, I remember; but I'll tell you at a more convenient
season. (_Inventing an excuse with mock solemnity_. ) To-day is the
"Thirtieth Sabbath. " You wouldn't affront the circumcised Jews, would
you?
HORACE: I have no scruples.
FUSCUS: But _I_ have. I'm a slightly weaker brother--one, of many.
Pardon, I'll talk about it another time.
[_Exit, leaving_ HORACE _like a victim under the knife_.
HORACE (_to himself_): To think this day should have dawned so
black for me!
[_Suddenly enter the_ PLAINTIFF _in the suit against the_
BORE.
PLAINTIFF (_loudly to the_ BORE): Where are you off to, you
scoundrel? (_To_ HORACE) May I call you as a witness to his contempt
of court?
BORE: A tall story--hardly believable.
HORACE: A fact, nevertheless.
BORE: You fire my anxiety all the more to be one of his intimate
friends.
HORACE (_sarcastically_): You've only got to wish. Such are _your_
qualities, you'll carry him by storm.
BORE (_on whom the irony is lost_): I'll not fail myself. I'll bribe
his slaves. If I find the door shut in my face I'll not give up. I'll
watch for lucky moments. I'll meet him at street corners. I'll see him
home. Life grants man nothing without hard work.
[_Enter_ FUSCUS, _a friend of_ HORACE. _Knowing the_
BORE'S _ways, he reads the situation_.
HORACE
_furtively tugs at_ FUSCUS'S _gown, pinches him,
nods and winks to_ FUSCUS _to rescue him_. FUSCUS
_smiles, and with a mischievous fondness for a joke,
pretends he does not understand_.
HORACE (_angry with_ Fuscus): Of course, you _did_ say you wanted to
talk over something with me in private.
FUSCUS: Ah, yes, I remember; but I'll tell you at a more convenient
season. (_Inventing an excuse with mock solemnity_. ) To-day is the
"Thirtieth Sabbath. " You wouldn't affront the circumcised Jews, would
you?
HORACE: I have no scruples.
FUSCUS: But _I_ have. I'm a slightly weaker brother--one, of many.
Pardon, I'll talk about it another time.
[_Exit, leaving_ HORACE _like a victim under the knife_.
HORACE (_to himself_): To think this day should have dawned so
black for me!
[_Suddenly enter the_ PLAINTIFF _in the suit against the_
BORE.
PLAINTIFF (_loudly to the_ BORE): Where are you off to, you
scoundrel? (_To_ HORACE) May I call you as a witness to his contempt
of court?
