Good morrow, good lover!
Yes, we're to be married, &c.
|Streph.||(embracing her.) My Phyllis! And to-day we are to be made happy for ever !|
|Phyl.||Well, we're to be married.|
|Streph.||It's the same thing.|
|Phyl.||I suppose it is. But, oh Strephon, I tremble at the step I'm taking ! I believe it's penal servitude for life to marry a Ward of Court without the Lord Chancellor's consent ! I shall be of age in two years.
Don't you think you could wait two years ?
|Streph.||Two years ! Why you can't have seen yourself ! Here, look at that (showing her a pocket mirror), and tell me if you think it rational to expect me to wait two years ?|
|Phyl.||(looking at herself.) No. You're quite right—it's asking too much. One must be reasonable.|
|Streph.||Besides, who knows what will happen in two years ? Why
you might fall in love with the Lord Chancellor himself by that time !
|Phyl.||Yes. He's a clean old gentleman.|
|Streph.||As it is, half the House of Lords are sighing at your feet.|
|Phyl.||The House of Lords are certainly extremely attentive.|
|Streph.||Attentive ? I should think they were ! Why did five-and-twenty Liberal Peers come down to shoot over your grass-plot last autumn ? It couldn't have been the sparrows. Why did five-and-twenty Conservative Peers come down to fish your pond ? Don't tell me it was the gold-fish ! No, no—delays are dangerous, and if we are to marry, the sooner the better.|
Duet—Strephon and Phyllis,
None shall part us from each other,
One in life and death are we:
All in all to one another—
I to thee and thou to me!
Thou the tree and I the flower—
Thou the idol; I the throng—
Thou the day and I the hour—
Thou the singer; I the song!