Athol: You’re going to be good to me, Will?
Porter: With the goodness of a whole choir of angels, and the choir of the First Presbyterian Church thrown in! The goodness of a case of the finest old silk-velvet Kentucky Bourbon, with due accompaniments of sugar, mint and ice—
Athol: Oh, Will, what a metaphor! You know what you promised me about your fondness for Bourbon!
Porter: Let it be inscribed—a promissory note—on the back of our marriage certificate.
Athol: It is inscribed on my heart, Will—
Porter: Where I shall read it most frequently! Marriages are laundered in heaven, their promises sprinkled by the celestial water-wagon—
Espiritu de la Vina (enters left; a Spanish girl with vivid brunette coloring, clad in scanty dancer’s costume of scarlet and orange. She carries castanets, with which she emphasizes her mockery. She passes, ogling Porter, and singing)
A beber, a beber, a apurar
Las Copas de licor
Que el vino hara olvidar