Original Plays, Second Series

by W. S. Gilbert

If you will cast your eyes on me—

However plain you be—I’ll love you!

All. Alas! there’s not one maiden here,

Whose homely face and bad complexion

Have caused all hope to disappear

Of ever winning man’s affection.

Fred. (in despair). Not one!

All.No, no—not one!

Fred.Not one?

All.No, no!