Venus. I remember a bright-eyed mortal in the gardens. Is she your love?
Alph. Yes.
Venus. She must die! I myself will crush her!
Alph. (Aside.) I must drop Jane a postcard. (Aloud.) What do you want to crush her for?
Venus. Because she is in my path! And shall any mortal maid stand between you and I?
Alph. But we are to be married shortly.
Venus. Do as you will, I will ever be between you.
Alph. Eh, that’s a bit thick for me! (Aside.) I must kick her a bit. (Aloud.) You see, there are a few little things you ain’t aware of. There is a great difference between you and I—ain’t the same—and I’m a respectable hairdresser; and what would people say if they saw me talking to a goddess with only her nightdress on?
Venus. You speak empty words. I know not what you mean. But this little I can glean from your worldly talk, you wish to evade me. But no, it shall never be. Let this suffice you, that I am here to fulfil the troth you have plighted.
Alph. I don’t think so! I really must decline your generous offer with thanks.