You dell her dat dere vos sixdeen young ladies dat vos dying because you von’t speak mit dem, und dat you von’t come into her old house again if it vos to be struck mit thunder. After dat you get up und valk like a funeral towards the door.
Dat fetches her.
She casts a glance at you und asks vhere you vos going, und you rebly dat you vos going to drown yourself, or else go ’round und pick up anodder mash.
She looks sad und remarks oud of the vinder dat you don’t lofe her, but vos only playing her for a flat.
You say it vos a lie, und say dat you lofe her so much dat you could pawn her vooden sleeves-buttons to buy yourself a Christmas present mit.
Den she gets up und flies to your arms, und by-und-by you take her around the corner and hang up the Italian for one plate of cream mit two spoons. Ah, dat vos de panorama of lofe.
Let me say, my fellow drunkard, dat a veller who marries a girl for her money is a scoundhrel, I vould villingly be a scoundhrel mineself, did opportunity permit.
A man should lofe a girl for herself not for her relations, und if she was born an orphan or her parents vos avay at her birth, so much the better.
Den when summer time comes he von’t haf to cart his vife, und her sister, und her mother, und her bruther dat vos out of vork, to the country, und haf the pleasure of paying all the bills.