Capt. G. When you tell me how much of you was eighteen last birthday and how much is as old as the Sphinx and twice as mysterious, perhaps I'll attend to you. Lend me that banjo. The spirit moveth me to yowl at the sunset.
Mrs. G. Mind! It's not tuned. Ah! How that jars!
Capt. G. (Turning pegs.) It's amazingly different to keep a banjo to proper pitch.
Mrs. G. It's the same with all musical instruments, What shall it be?
Capt. G. “Vanity,” and let the hills hear. (Sings through the first and half of the second verse. Turning to Mrs. G.) Now, chorus! Sing, Pussy!
BOTH TOGETHER. (Con brio, to the horror of the monkeys who are settling for the night.)—
“Vanity, all is Vanity,” said Wisdom, scorning me—I clasped my true Love's tender hand and answered frank and free-ee “If this be Vanity who'd be wise? If this be Vanity who'd be wise? If this be Vanity who'd be wi-ise (Crescendo.) Vanity let it be!”
Mrs. G. (Defiantly to the grey of the evening sky.) “Vanity let it be!”
ECHO. (Prom the Fagoo spur.) Let it be!