Koch. Fiddle-de-dee! Only don’t be bashful: I’ll get you married as finely as you like. We’ll go straight off to the lady now, and you’ll see how fast we’ll get it all settled.
Pod. What, go off now! What next will you want?
Koch. Bless my soul, man, what would you have? Now, just think yourself what comes of not being married. Look at the condition of your room—there’s a muddy boot—there’s a washing basin—there’s a heap of tobacco on the table; and here you lie on your side, the whole day long, like a regular stick-in-the-mud.
Pod. It’s quite true; I know myself everything’s in a muddle in this house.
Koch. Well now, when you have a wife everything’ll be so different that you’ll hardly know yourself. Here there’ll be a sofa, there a lap-dog, then a birdcage, and fancy-work lying about.... And just imagine—you sit on the sofa, and suddenly a little woman comes and sits down beside you, a pretty little girl ... and puts up a little hand——
Pod. Ah! the devil take it! when one thinks of it, what beautiful hands there are—just as white as milk!
Koch. How you talk! Anybody would think women had got nothing but hands!... My lad, they’ve got——in fact the deuce knows what they haven’t got!
Pod. Do you know—I confess it to you—I do like to have a pretty woman sit beside me.
Koch. There now! there you see! Then all that’s wanted is to make the arrangements. You needn’t take any trouble about that, though; I’ll manage the wedding and the dinner, and all that.... You can’t possibly do with less than a dozen of champagne—that there’s no question about. We must have half a dozen of Madeira too; I expect the lady’s got a whole tribe of aunts and cousins and all the rest of it, and they won’t want to be done out of their share. Then there’s the Rhine-wine—what the devil do you call it, eh? And as for the dinner, I’ll tell you what, old chap: there’s a butler I know of that’ll settle it all for us; the dog will give you such a feed as you never saw in your life.
