Ch. Symperson, you seem to think I want to kill myself. I don’t want to do anything of the kind. I’d much rather live—upon my soul I would—if I could think of any reason for living. Symperson, can’t you think of something to check the heroic impulse which is at this moment urging me to a tremendous act of self-destruction?
Sym. Something! Of course I can! Say that you throw yourself into the Serpentine—which is handy. Well, it’s an easy way of going out of the world, I’m told—rather pleasant than otherwise, I believe—quite an agreeable sensation, I’m given to understand. But you—you get wet through; and your—your clothes are absolutely ruined!
Ch. (mournfully). For that matter, I could take off my clothes before I went in.
Sym. True, so you could. I never thought of that. You could take them off before you go in—there’s no reason why you shouldn’t, if you do it in the dark—and that objection falls to the ground. Cheviot, my lion-hearted boy, it’s impossible to resist your arguments, they are absolutely convincing. (Shakes his hand.)
[Exit.
Ch. Good fellow, Symperson—I like a man who’s open to conviction! But it’s no use—all my attractions are gone—and I can not live unless I feel I’m fascinating. Still, there’s one chance left—Belinda! I haven’t tried her. Perhaps, after all, she loved me for myself alone! It isn’t likely—but it’s barely possible.
Enter Belvawney, who has overheard these words.
Bel. Out of the question; you are too late! I represented to her that you are never likely to induce any one to marry you now that you are penniless. She felt that my income was secure, and she gave me her hand and her heart.
Ch. Then all is lost; my last chance is gone, and the irrevocable die is cast! Be happy with her, Belvawney; be happy with her!
Bel. Happy! You shall dine with us after our honeymoon and judge for yourself.