And taste a pickled lime with me, my dear.
I’ll tell thee lots of scandal and of fashion,
And whisper in thine ear my tale of passion;
For I’m in love; in love with a dear feller
I met one night while seeing Cinderella.
Oh, such a dear! dear me, I’m in a flutter.
He’s young and rich, and sweet as fresh June butter:
His name is Romeo; he’s the idol of the town;
I’ll sing his praise. Prythee, dear, come down.
Romeo (outside), L. sings.