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Liv. Yes, Baron; you and your friends have, by this plot of yours, taught me a severe lesson; and I thank you for it, though my own understanding ought to have made it unnecessary.

Bar. Dear Livia; why should, a young woman like you be so much affronted at finding her understanding—for you are mighty fond of that word understanding—not quite infallible? At the age of 63, an age I shall henceforth honestly own I have attained, one is not surprised at some small deficiencies even in one's own understanding. One can then, as I shall henceforth do, give up the vanity of being a wise man.

Liv. And a poet, too, Baron? That were too much to give up in one day.

Bar. Posterity will settle that point, Madam, and I shall give myself very little concern about the matter.

Liv. Which one can easily perceive is perfectly indifferent to you. (Noise without.) What encreased noise is that? Since your poor victim is already sacrificed, (for they tell me he is gone,