[SCENE — A wooded glade, with a view of open country in the
background. The chorus of MAIDENS is heard singing in the
distance. JANE is discovered leaning on a violoncello,
which she has propped up on a tree-stump, L., and upon which
she will presently accompany herself. As the Chorus ends,
she speaks.]

No. 10. On such eyes as maidens cherish
(Opening Chorus)

Maidens

On such eyes as maidens cherish
Lest thy fond adorers gaze,
Or incontinently perish,
In their all-consuming rays!
Or incontinently perish,
In their all-consuming rays!

JANE The fickle crew have deserted Reginald and sworn allegiance
to his rival, and all, forsooth, because he has glanced with
passing favour on a puling milkmaid! Fools! Of that fancy he
will soon weary — and then, I, who alone am faithful to him,
shall reap my reward. But do not dally too long, Reginald, for
my charms are ripe, Reginald, and already they are decaying.
Better secure me ere I have gone too far!

No. 11. Sad is that woman's lot
(Recitative and Solo)
Jane

JANE Sad is that woman's lot who, year by year,
Sees, one by one, her beauties disappear,
When Time, grown weary of her heart-drawn sighs,
Impatiently begins to dim her eyes!
Compelled, at last, in life's uncertain gloamings,
To wreathe her wrinkled brow with well-saved
"combings,"
Reduced, with rouge, lip-shade, and pearly grey,
To "make up" for lost time as best she may!

Silvered is the raven hair,
Spreading is the parting straight,
Mottled the complexion fair,
Halting is the youthful gait,
Hollow is the laughter free,
Spectacled the limpid eye,
Little will be left of me
In the coming bye and bye!
Little will be left of me
In the coming bye and bye!

Fading is the taper waist,
Shapeless grows the shapely limb,
And although severely laced,
Spreading is the figure trim!

Stouter than I used to be,
Still more corpulent grow I—
There will be too much of me
In the coming by and bye!
There will be too much of me
In the coming by and bye!

[Exit, L., carrying her violoncello.]

[Enter GROSVENOR, R., followed by MAIDENS, two and two, playing
on archaic instruments as in Act I. He is reading
abstractedly, as BUNTHORNE did in Act I, and pays no
attention to them.]

No. 12. Turn, oh, turn in this direction
(Chorus)
Maidens

Turn, oh, turn in this direction,
Shed, oh, shed a gentle smile,
With a glance of sad perfection,
Our poor fainting hearts beguile!

On such eyes as maidens cherish
Let thy fond adorers gaze,
Or incontinently perish,
In their all-consuming rays!
Or incontinently perish,
In their all-consuming rays!

[GROSVENOR sits, R.; they group themselves around him in a
formation similar to that which opens Act I.]

GROS. [aside, not looking up] The old, old tale. How
rapturously these maidens love me, and how hopelessly! [He looks
up.] Oh, Patience, Patience, with the love of thee in my heart,
what have I for these poor mad maidens but an unvalued pity?
Alas, they will die of hopeless love for me, as I shall die of
hopeless love for thee!

ANGELA Sir, will it please you read to us?

GROS. [sighing] Yes, child, if you will. What shall I read?

ANGELA One of your own poems.

GROS. One of my own poems? Better not, my child. They will not
cure thee of thy love. [All sigh.]

ELLA Mr. Bunthorne used to read us a poem of his own every day.

SAPHIR And, to do him justice, he read them extremely well.

GROS. Oh, did he so? Well, who am I that I should take upon
myself to withhold my gifts from you? What am I but a trustee?
Here is a decalet — a pure and simple thing, a very daisy — a
babe might understand it. To appreciate it, it is not necessary
to think of anything at all.

ANGELA Let us think of nothing at all!

GROS. [reciting]

Gentle Jane was as good as gold,
She always did as she was told;
She never spoke when her mouth was full,
Or caught bluebottles their legs to pull,
Or spilt plum jam on her nice new frock,
Or put white mice in the eight-day clock,
Or vivisected her last new doll,
Or fostered a passion for alcohol.
And when she grew up she was given in marriage
To a first-class earl who keeps his carriage!

GROS. I believe I am right in saying that there is not one word
in that decalet which is calculated to bring the blush of shame
to the cheek of modesty.

ANGELA Not one; it is purity itself.

GROS. Here's another.

Teasing Tom was a very bad boy,
A great big squirt was his favourite toy
He put live shrimps in his father's boots,
And sewed up the sleeves of his Sunday suits;
He punched his poor little sisters' heads,
And cayenne-peppered their four-post beds;
He plastered their hair with cobbler's wax,
And dropped hot halfpennies down their backs.
The consequence was he was lost totally,
And married a girl in the corps de bally!

[The MAIDENS express intense horror.]

ANGELA Marked you how grandly — how relentlessly — the damning
catalogue of crime strode on, till Retribution, like a poised
hawk, came swooping down upon the Wrong-Doer? Oh, it was
terrible! [All shudder.]

ELLA Oh, sir, you are indeed a true poet, for you touch our
hearts, and they go out to you!

GROS. [aside] This is simply cloying. [aloud] Ladies, I am
sorry to appear ungallant, but this is Saturday, and you have
been following me about ever since Monday. I should like the
usual half-holiday. I shall take it as a personal favour if you
will kindly allow me to close early to-day.

SAPHIR Oh, sir, do not send us from you!

GROS. Poor, poor girls! It is best to speak plainly. I know
that I am loved by you, but I never can love you in return, for
my heart is fixed elsewhere! Remember the fable of the Magnet
and the Churn.

ANGELA [wildly] But we don't know the fable of the Magnet and
the Churn!

GROS. Don't you? Then I will sing it to you.

No. 13. A magnet hung in a hardware shop
(Solo and Chorus)
Grosvenor and Maidens

GROSVENOR A magnet hung in a hardware shop,
And all around was a loving crop
Of scissors and needles, nails and knives,
Offering love for all their lives;
But for iron the magnet felt no whim,
Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him;
From needles and nails and knives he'd turn,
For he'd set his love on a Silver Churn!

MAIDENS A Silver Churn!

GROSVENOR A Silver Churn!

His most aesthetic,
Very magnetic
Fancy took this turn—
"If I can wheedle
A knife or a needle,
Why not a Silver Churn?"

MAIDENS His most aesthetic,
Very magnetic
Fancy took this turn—
"If I can wheedle
A knife or a needle,
Why not a Silver Churn?"

GROSVENOR [He rises, going C.]
And Iron and Steel expressed surprise,
The needles opened their well-drilled eyes,
The penknives felt "shut up", no doubt,
The scissors declared themselves "cut out",
The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said,
While ev'ry nail went off its head,
And hither and thither began to roam,
Till a hammer came up and drove them home.

MAIDENS It drove them home?

GROSVENOR It drove them home!

While this magnetic,
Peripatetic
Lover he lived to learn,
By no endeavour
Can magnet ever
Attract a Silver Churn!

MAIDENS While this magnetic,
Peripatetic
Lover he lived to learn,

MAIDENS and
GROSVENOR By no endeavour
Can magnet ever
Attract a Silver Churn!

[They go off in low spirits, R.U.E., gazing back at him from time
to time.]

GROS. At last they are gone! What is this mysterious
fascination that I seem to exercise over all I come across? A
curse on my fatal beauty, for I am sick of conquests! [Goes R.]

[Enter PATIENCE, L. Stops L.C. on seeing GROSVENOR.]

GROS. [Turns and sees her.] Patience!

PATIENCE I have escaped with difficulty from my Reg

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