merit, and long wished to encourage it.--I shall be at home at six this evening. Yours,
Ennui. In fact--a very sentimental assignation, that would do as well for any other man.
Nev. If I show it to my lord, I know his bigotry is such, that he would, as usual, only suppose it a trick of my own--the more cause there is to condemn, the more he approves.
Ennui. I've an idea, he's incomprehensible.--In fact--who have we here?
Nev. As I live, Vapid, the dramatic author--he is come to Bath to pick up characters, I suppose.
Ennui. In fact--pick up!
Nev. Yes--he has the ardor scribendi upon him so strong, that he would rather you'd ask him to write an epilogue to a new play, than offer him your whole estate--the theatre is his world, in which are included all his hopes and wishes.--In short, he is a dramatic maniac. And to such an extent does he carry his folly, that if he were not the best natured