[Bows.]
Cicely.
Then am I ready. To the Moon I’ll flee,
Dearest Lord Malapert, to rule with thee.
How shall we go?
Lord M. Not in the steam-cars tropic,
With quarters cramped and comforts microscopic;
Not by slow stages nor unsafe balloon
Shall we attain our palace in the Moon;
But by his private air-line will your vassal