A BRIEF BURLESQUE.
As Performed Upon the Modern Stage.
She—You love me?
He—Aye, I do indeed,
How can I prove it?
She—Is there need?
He—Nay, not for some, but you are cold—
Ah, would our life were that of old
That I might prove by feat of arms
My wish to shield you from all harms—
As knight of thine I could not fail!
She—There’s safety in a coat of mail.
He—True, so there is; but take the case
Of Orpheus—give to me his place.
For Orpheus left this world above,
At Pluto’s throne he showed his love—
She—But that’s mythology, you know—
He—To Pluto I would go to show—
She—Ah, thanks; but is it just to trace
Comparisons between his Grace
Of the Inferno and mon père?
You’d hardly find the latter there,
But in that room with door ajar
You’ll see him deep in his cigar;
Which after dinner smoke, I find,
Brings him a happy frame of mind.
Go to him, therefore, and confess—
Then I am yours if he says yes.
(She watches him as he hurries away)
Poor boy, without a single cent
Upon an empty errand bent!