He saw a bore coming into the room! In a wild thirst for novelty, Pomander had once penetrated to Goodman's Fields Theater; there he had unguardedly put a question to a carpenter behind the scene; a seedy-black poet instantly pushed the carpenter away (down a trap, it is thought), and answered it in seven pages, and in continuation was so vaguely communicative, that he drove Sir Charles back into the far west.
Sir Charles knew him again in a moment, and at sight of him bolted.

They met at the door.

"Ah! Mr.Triplet!" said the fugitive, "enchanted--to wish you good-morning!" and he plunged into the hiding-places of the theater.
"That is a very polite gentleman!" thought Triplet.

He was followed by the call-boy, to whom he was explaining that his avocations, though numerous, would not prevent his paying Mr.Rich the compliment of waiting all day in his green-room, sooner than go without an answer to three important propositions, in which the town and the arts were concerned.
"What is your name ?" said the boy of business to the man of words.
"Mr.Triplet," said Triplet.
"Triplet?
There is something for you in the hall," said the urchin, and went off to fetch it.
"I knew it," said Triplet to himself; "they are accepted.

There's a note in the hall to fix the reading." He then derided his own absurdity in having ever for a moment desponded.