Master: Your ugliness gets more beautiful every day.
Companion: Will you be a hundred years old the day after to-morrow?
Servant: What? Has she been merry-making all this time?
Master: Still the same success with the goats? Ah, the rogue knows how to make her warts suit her face. She knows the scents that please the long tails.
Maid: Why don’t you speak, you stockfish?
Companion: She’s collecting herself.
Maid (holds a live log under the witch's nose): What’s it smell of? Eh? What’s it smell of? (Witch hisses. All laugh.) What, don’t you like it, you big-faced sorceress?
Master: Listen, you rogue. Last night our fool had a quite extraordinary dream. First he dreamed that he, a fool, had been appointed to a terribly responsible post. Well, so far there’s nothing extraordinary, that happens all round us every day, but after that (The Arab boy enters with a card on a silver tray. General consternation.)
Master (astonished): Well, this is the last thing I
