When roses crowd together,
And blueness makes the beauty of the sky.
But when my moon so tender
Sheds over all its splendor
It seems that heaven itself is drawing nigh.
Jury. You’re dear and fair and sweet
But not for queenship meet.
[Exit June.]
[Music. “Yankee Doodle.” Drumming and noise of fire-crackers.]
[July rushes on to stage unannounced, shoots his cap pistol and says to Jury:]