Worthy
In spite of her illness, Scratch—what a—!
Scratch
I love her more this way than another who is quite sane.
Arabella (singing) Couldn't he just Be made to break his neck? (speaking) You're in the same line of work? Musicians, listen: I am as you, a musician. Vain, very spoiled—but I work for very little money. A child of do, re, me, fa,—and so on. I'm irritated. From one part of the world to the other, they speak of my talent. In a certain duo which I find excellent—'cause it's mine. I wish you'd both tell me frankly what you think of it.
Albert (alarmed)
Ah, my dear Jenny! She's lost her reason.
Jenny
Who knows better than I? Didn't I tell you so, didn't I tell you that?
(Arabella sings a little prelude.)
Scratch
I like that, sir. Her madness is a little racy.
Albert (concerned)
Her eyes are troubled, and her face is haggard.
Arabella (presenting her hand to Albert, then roughly pulling it away, while letting Worthy kiss the other) I love artists! Touch it! Touch it! The tune you will hear is in A minor. It's my favorite. Music is lively, bizarre, petulant, and very enjoyable. The movement is light, new, quick and forceful. It sent me looking, a few days ago to soothe the melancholy humor of a man confined to bed with paralysis for whom I sang a certain dance. Three wise doctors came to his house, the nurse, the patient, and an old apothecary who came to exercise his grave ministry without respect for his profession took me by the hand and danced till dawn.
Scratch (having conceived the idea for Worthy to grab Arabella's hand
and dance off with her)
Behold a faculty to dance in the round and exit this street all in
step. That'd be nice, sir.