| 'Tis a shime to smoile, |
| But she's shocking stoyle, |
| It is quite a troyal, |
| Still—she mikes a foil! |
Br.
| Often I've a job |
| To suppress a sob, |
| She is such a snob, |
| When she meets a nob! |
[Step-dance as before.
[N.B.—In consideration of the well-known difficulty that most popular variety-artists experience in the metrical delivery of decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written as they will most probably be spoken.
Bl. (looking off with alarm). Why, here comes Fanny Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in!
She'll find me with Brunette—it's too embarrassing!
[Aside.
To Brunette. Brunette, my love, I know such a pretty game we'll play at—
Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at.
(The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend,)
And you shall take her there—(hypocritically)—you're such a friend!
Br. (with simplicity). Oh, yes, that will be splendid, Blanchidine,
And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!
[Blan. resigns the wooden doll to Brun., who skips off with it, L., as Fanny Furbelow enters, R., carrying a magnificent wax doll.
Fanny (languidly). Ah, howdy do—isn't this heat too frightful?
And so you're quite alone?
Bl. (nervously). Oh, quite—oh yes, I always am alone, when there's nobody with me.