Mrs. MacPherson
Maybe he can hear us. Sing something about his dead wife.
MacPherson
That's a fine idea. A fine idea, Hem, la, la, la.
My wife is dead, my wife is dead,
And my heart, it feels like lead—Ooh!
(Enter Bramble.)
Bramble
What's this? Do you rejoice in my sorrow?
MacPherson
Your wife is dead and we're drinking.
Mrs. MacPherson
And we are drinking.
Bramble
These rogues are drunk. (trying to leave)
MacPherson (stopping him)
Drink away your sorrows. It's the only way.
Bramble (trying to pass)
What's all this?
Mr. and Mrs. MacPherson
Console yourself. Sit down in this chair.