'Since you came here Lenville has done nothing but second business, and, instead of having a reception every night as he used to have, they have let him come on as if he was nobody.' 'What do you mean by a reception ?' asked Nicholas.
'Jupiter!' exclaimed Mr Folair, 'what an unsophisticated shepherd you are, Johnson! Why, applause from the house when you first come on.

So he has gone on night after night, never getting a hand, and you getting a couple of rounds at least, and sometimes three, till at length he got quite desperate, and had half a mind last night to play Tybalt with a real sword, and pink you--not dangerously, but just enough to lay you up for a month or two.' 'Very considerate,' remarked Nicholas.
'Yes, I think it was under the circumstances; his professional reputation being at stake,' said Mr Folair, quite seriously.

'But his heart failed him, and he cast about for some other way of annoying you, and making himself popular at the same time--for that's the point.
Notoriety, notoriety, is the thing.

Bless you, if he had pinked you,' said Mr Folair, stopping to make a calculation in his mind, 'it would have been worth--ah, it would have been worth eight or ten shillings a week to him.

All the town would have come to see the actor who nearly killed a man by mistake; I shouldn't wonder if it had got him an engagement in London.