deuce,
And it must have been unpleasing when they caught a fit of
sneezing,
For, it seems, of pocket-handkerchiefs they didn't know the
use.
They wore little underclothing—scarcely anything—or nothing—
And their dress of Coan silk was quite transparent in
design—
Well, in fact, in summer weather, something like the "altogether"
And it's there, I rather fancy, I shall have to draw the
line!
(Confidentially to audience.)
And again I wish to mention
That this erudition sham
Is but classical pretension,
The result of steady "cram."
Yet my classic lore aggressive
(If you'll pardon the possessive)
Is exceedingly impressive
When you're passing an exam.
CHORUS. Yet his classic lore, etc.
[Exeunt Chorus. Manent LUDWIG, JULIA, and LISA.
LUD. (recit.).
Yes, Ludwig and his Julia are mated!
For when an obscure comedian, whom the law backs,
To sovereign rank is promptly elevated,
He takes it with its incidental drawbacks!
So Julia and I are duly mated!
(LISA, through this, has expressed intense distress at
having to surrender LUDWIG.)
SONG—LISA.
Take care of him—he's much too good to live,
With him you must be very gentle:
Poor fellow, he's so highly sensitive,
And O, so sentimental!
Be sure you never let him sit up late
In chilly open air conversing—
Poor darling, he's extremely delicate,
And wants a deal of nursing!
LUD. I want a deal of nursing!
LISA. And O, remember this—
When he is cross with pain,
A flower and a kiss—
A simple flower—a tender kiss
Will bring him round again!
His moods you must assiduously watch:
When he succumbs to sorrow tragic,
Some hardbake or a bit of butter-scotch
Will work on him like magic.
To contradict a character so rich
In trusting love were simple blindness—
He's one of those exalted natures which
Will only yield to kindness!
LUD. I only yield to kindness!
LISA. And O, the bygone bliss!
And O, the present pain!
That flower and that kiss—
That simple flower—that tender kiss
I ne'er shall give again!
[Exit,
weeping.
JULIA. And now that everybody has gone, and we're happily
and comfortably married, I want to have a few words with my
new-born husband.
LUD. (aside). Yes, I expect you'll often have a few words
with your new-born husband! (Aloud.) Well, what is it?
JULIA. Why, I've been thinking that as you and I have to
play our parts for life, it is most essential that we should come
to a definite understanding as to how they shall be rendered.
Now, I've been considering how I can make the most of the Grand
Duchess.
LUD. Have you? Well, if you'll take my advice, you'll
make
a very fine part of it.
JULIA. Why, that's quite my idea.
LUD. I shouldn't make it one of your hoity-toity vixenish
viragoes.
JULIA. You think not?
LUD. Oh, I'm quite clear about that. I should make her a
tender, gentle, submissive, affectionate (but not too
affectionate) child-wife—timidly anxious to coil herself into
her husband's heart, but kept in check by an awestruck reverence
for his exalted intellectual qualities and his majestic personal
appearance.
JULIA. Oh, that is your idea of a good part?
LUD. Yes—a wife who regards her husband's slightest wish
as an inflexible law, and who ventures but rarely into his august
presence, unless (which would happen seldom) he should summon her
to appear before him. A crushed, despairing violet, whose
blighted existence would culminate (all too soon) in a lonely and
pathetic death-scene! A fine part, my dear.
JULIA. Yes. There's a good deal to be said for your view
of it. Now there are some actresses whom it would fit like a
glove.
LUD. (aside). I wish I'd married one of 'em!
JULIA. But, you see, I must consider my temperament. For
instance, my temperament would demand some strong scenes of
justifiable jealousy.
LUD. Oh, there's no difficulty about that. You shall have
them.
JULIA. With a lovely but detested rival—
LUD. Oh, I'll provide the rival.
JULIA. Whom I should stab—stab—stab!
LUD. Oh, I wouldn't stab her. It's been done to death. I
should treat her with a silent and contemptuous disdain, and
delicately withdraw from a position which, to one of your
sensitive nature, would be absolutely untenable. Dear me, I can
see you delicately withdrawing, up centre and off!
JULIA. Can you?
LUD. Yes. It's a fine situation—and in your hands, full
of quiet pathos!
DUET—LUDWIG and JULIA.
LUD. Now Julia, come,
Consider it from
This dainty point of view—
A timid tender
Feminine gender,
Prompt to coyly coo—
Yet silence seeking,
Seldom speaking
Till she's spoken to—
A comfy, cosy,