Chapter 165
ELLA Mr. Bunthorne used to read us a poem of his own every day.
SAPHIR And, to do him justice, he read them extremely well.
GROS. Oh, did he so? Well, who am I that I should take upon myself to withhold my gifts from you? What am I but a trustee?
Here is a decalet -- a pure and simple thing, a very daisy -- a babe might understand it. To appreciate it, it is not necessary to think of anything at all.
ANGELA Let us think of nothing at all!
GROS. [reciting]
Gentle Jane was as good as gold, She always did as she was told; She never spoke when her mouth was full, Or caught bluebottles their legs to pull, Or spilt plum jam on her nice new frock, Or put white mice in the eight-day clock, Or vivisected her last new doll, Or fostered a pa.s.sion for alcohol.
And when she grew up she was given in marriage To a first-cla.s.s earl who keeps his carriage!
GROS. I believe I am right in saying that there is not one word in that decalet which is calculated to bring the blush of shame to the cheek of modesty.
ANGELA Not one; it is purity itself.
GROS. Here's another.
Teasing Tom was a very bad boy, A great big squirt was his favourite toy He put live shrimps in his father's boots, And sewed up the sleeves of his Sunday suits; He punched his poor little sisters' heads, And cayenne-peppered their four-post beds; He plastered their hair with cobbler's wax, And dropped hot halfpennies down their backs.
The consequence was he was lost totally, And married a girl in the corps de bally!
[The MAIDENS express intense horror.]
ANGELA Marked you how grandly -- how relentlessly -- the d.a.m.ning catalogue of crime strode on, till Retribution, like a poised hawk, came swooping down upon the Wrong-Doer? Oh, it was terrible! [All shudder.]
ELLA Oh, sir, you are indeed a true poet, for you touch our hearts, and they go out to you!
GROS. [aside] This is simply cloying. [aloud] Ladies, I am sorry to appear ungallant, but this is Sat.u.r.day, and you have been following me about ever since Monday. I should like the usual half-holiday. I shall take it as a personal
SAPHIR Oh, sir, do not send us from you!
GROS. Poor, poor girls! It is best to speak plainly. I know that I am loved by you, but I never can love you in return, for my heart is fixed elsewhere! Remember the fable of the Magnet and the Churn.
ANGELA [wildly] But we don't know the fable of the Magnet and the Churn!
GROS. Don't you? Then I will sing it to you.
No. 13. A magnet hung in a hardware shop (Solo and Chorus) Grosvenor and Maidens
GROSVENOR A magnet hung in a hardware shop, And all around was a loving crop Of scissors and needles, nails and knives, Offering love for all their lives; But for iron the magnet felt no whim, Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him; From needles and nails and knives he'd turn, For he'd set his love on a Silver Churn!
MAIDENS A Silver Churn!
GROSVENOR A Silver Churn!
His most aesthetic, Very magnetic Fancy took this turn-- "If I can wheedle A knife or a needle, Why not a Silver Churn?"
MAIDENS His most aesthetic, Very magnetic Fancy took this turn-- "If I can wheedle A knife or a needle, Why not a Silver Churn?"
GROSVENOR [He rises, going C.]
And Iron and Steel expressed surprise, The needles opened their well-drilled eyes, The penknives felt "shut up", no doubt, The scissors declared themselves "cut out", The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said, While ev'ry nail went off its head, And hither and thither began to roam, Till a hammer came up and drove them home.
MAIDENS It drove them home?
GROSVENOR It drove them home!
While this magnetic, Peripatetic Lover he lived to learn, By no endeavour Can magnet ever Attract a Silver Churn!
MAIDENS While this magnetic, Peripatetic Lover he lived to learn,
MAIDENS and GROSVENOR By no endeavour Can magnet ever Attract a Silver Churn!
[They go off in low spirits, R.U.E., gazing back at him from time to time.]
GROS. At last they are gone! What is this mysterious fascination that I seem to exercise over all I come across? A curse on my fatal beauty, for I am sick of conquests! [Goes R.]
[Enter PATIENCE, L. Stops L.C. on seeing GROSVENOR.]
GROS. [Turns and sees her.] Patience!
PATIENCE I have escaped with difficulty from my Reginald. I wanted to see you so much that I might ask you if you still love me as fondly as ever?
GROS. Love you? If the devotion of a lifetime-- [seizing her hand.]
PATIENCE [indignantly] Hold! Unhand me, or I scream! [He releases her.] If you are a gentleman, pray remember that I am another's! [very tenderly.] But you do love me, don't you?
GROS. Madly, hopelessly, despairingly!
PATIENCE That's right! I never can be yours; but that's right!
GROS. And you love this Bunthorne?
PATIENCE With a heart-whole ecstasy that withers, and scorches, and burns, and stings! [sadly] It is my duty.
GROS. Admirable girl! But you are not happy with him?
PATIENCE Happy? I am miserable beyond description!
GROS. That's right! I never can be yours; but that's right!
PATIENCE But go now. I see dear Reginald approaching.
Farewell, dear Archibald; I cannot tell you how happy it has made me to know that you still love me.
GROS. Ah, if I only dared-- [advancing towards her]
PATIENCE Sir! this language to one who is promised to another!
[tenderly] Oh, Archibald, think of me sometimes, for my heart is breaking! He is unkind to me, and you would be so loving!