Scene II
—Another part of the garden. Enter alone, Diggory.
Diggory. If there be no true charm but it hath a touch of folly in it, this one must be most potent. Now a wise man would not think there’s that virtue in a bit of grease, a jingling rhyme, and a hair cut, that one might thereby win a woman’s love—but the wise are fools in love. I have here the lard of three bears—one more than the old adage of “bear and forbear”—and with it I am to anoint my head as an enchantment to bring about my marriage to Betsey—marry, I’ll temper the strength of the charm with a little bergamot, for in truth two of the bears have been dead over-long. Whew!—Aha! enchantment is the only highway to success in love! Now let me see: “Lady love, lady love, where’er you be”—
Betsey. [Singing behind the scenes]
Little bird, little bird, come tell me true;
If I love my love, as your love loves you,
And if he loves me, as you love your mate;
Can hardly be called, sirs, quite sober.
Diggory. That’s Betsey singing now! If the charm works like this, bear fat will be worth its weight in gold. But perhaps my features may have pleased her after all—I’m not bad to look upon; and truly I would save my hair; it’s the best part about me. Singing again.
Betsey. [Singing behind the scenes]
In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide,
O, what can a maiden do,
If, while he walks close by her side,
Her lover begins to woo?
Diggory. Now I wonder where she learnt all those profane songs? From some liberal folk in the old country, no doubt; they ill become a puritan. If she were a little slower in her speech, what an angel she would be! As it is, she is a very good woman, tongue and all.
Betsey. [Singing again, behind the scenes.]
For her, of buttercups and violets,
A circlet for her hair he makes;
And sings, in roundelays and triolets,
A song that soon her fancy takes.
In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide,
O, what can a maiden do,
If, while he walks close by her side,
Her lover begins to woo?
Diggory. I’m not a judge of songs, but if she means half she says—and a woman sometimes does—some one is about to be the top feather in Fortune’s cap; it may be me. I’ll try my luck once more. [Going toward R. wing] Why, here she comes.
Enter Betsey, with a pair of butter paddles.
Betsey. [Entering.]
Adown the moonlit path they walk,
Through all the world called lover’s lane,
And hand in hand they sigh and talk
Of the love that binds them, happy twain!
What are you gaping like a great gaby for?
Diggory. For Fortune to drop the plum into my mouth.
Betsey. Where is the plum?
Diggory. There. [Pointing at her.]
Betsey. You silly fellow! yesterday I was a peach; the day before strawberries and cream; the day before that a rose; and last week a dove—marry, I don’t coo for you! Can I be all these things at once and still be Betsey Tomkins?
Diggory. O, Betsey, thou art all the world to me!
Betsey. O, Diggory, thou art a great fool to me! Why, man, thy head is as soft as a pat of butter; I could take it between my paddles, like this, and mold it into any shape I chose.
Diggory. So you may, Betsey; so you may. And, Betsey, for the love of mercy, mold it into the head of thy future husband.
Betsey. ’Twould take a pair of shears to do that.
Diggory. Wouldst thou marry me, Betsey, if I should lose my pretty locks?
Betsey. I would not marry you with them, that’s flat.
Diggory. Shall I shave my head or only clip it close?
Betsey. Cut it off, Diggory, cut it off.
Diggory. Kiss me but once, Betsey, and I’ll cut my head off; ’tis of little use to me now, and if thou dost marry me—well, thy head shall rest upon my shoulder, like this, and one head is enough for any pair of shoulders.
Betsey. In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide,
O, what can a maiden do, etc.
[Exeunt.