Nancy. Then behave yourself. Go on with your next occupation.
Simon. It is that honorable profession in which our first great ancestor won renown.
Nancy. By sticking to it,——which you will never do.
Simon. And yet, for love of you, cruel Nancy, I’ve sought this lowly occupation. The Lady of Lyons inspired me.
Nancy. Who’s she? One of the candy-girls?
Simon. Candy-girls? Nancy, have you forgotten the play?
Nancy. Oh! she was the young woman in spangles, that went in among the lions at the menagerie. Pretty lady she was.
Simon. Nancy, I blush for you.
Nancy. Well, I blushed for her. She had no chance herself, with such daubs on her face.
Simon. Nancy, you’re wrong. “The Lady of Lyons” is a play in which a gardener, Claude——somebody, falls in love with a beautiful lady. I went to see it, Nancy; and the way that young feller made love was amazing. You’d never believe he knew anything about rutabagas and cabbages. It give me an idea, Nancy. Says I, Simon, woo Nancy in that particular metre when you meet her, and victory is yours. (Strikes an attitude.) “Nancy, I mean Pauline, bright angels have fallen ere thy time——”