(Enter an omnibus R. and a waggon L.—there are no raised pavements in Roman side streets—both coming full speed.)
Drivers (shouting). He! Ho!
Englishman. Oh dear! I shall be crushed. Where can I go? Oh dear!
(Climbs up a waterspout on to the sill of a first-floor window, and escapes with the loss of his boots, which the waggon draws off.)
Englishman (coming down). Dear me! the stone is very cold to one’s feet without one’s boots. Never mind; now for a nice saunter.
(Enter Flower-sellers—Mother, Father, and Four Children. They surround Englishman and offer flowers.)
Englishman. No. Oh, do go away, please! I have left my purse at home.
(Family stick flowers in Englishman’s buttonhole. He flings them back. They throw them on his hat. He shakes them off. They put pansies in his pockets and roses down the back of his neck—fact! He shakes himself free and flies.)
Englishman. Phew! The sirocco is blowing, and I’m all in a perspiration. Let me enter this cool church a moment and rest in a pew.
(Chorus of beggars at church door, holding out withered hands, half noses, wrapped up in paper, mangled legs, etc.: ‘Io muojo di fame! Date mi une soldo!')