Part 8 (1/2)

CLOWN. So we do believe you, Mr. Joseph ... sprier than many an old 'un, I'm sure.

EGLANTINE. A parting gla.s.s of wine to cheer you. George, help Mr. Talon and yourself.

[Harlequin waves his wand--a napkin it is this time--and the gla.s.ses are filled.

CLOWN. Your health, Mr. Talon.

PANTALOON. Yours, Sir George. Long life to you, my lord.

EGLANTINE. Life!

[Pat on that word--that most commanding word--Columbine's song breaks forth again. And this time loud and clear.

Ah, stop that singing, it hurts me. Dismiss the girl! Pack her out of the house! I can't bear it.

HARLEQUIN. Very good, my lord.

[He waves his wand and the song stops.

CLOWN. Another gla.s.s, Mr. Joseph.

PANTALOON. I thank you, Sir George.

CLOWN. While I tell you my story. For it's the best story...!

PANTALOON. One moment. In this gla.s.s may we drink to the bride?

CLOWN. Yes, and it's about a bride.

PANTALOON. With his lords.h.i.+p's permission. ... ”The bride!”

CLOWN. The bride? Whose bride? I mean, whose bride is this?

PANTALOON. His lords.h.i.+p's.

CLOWN. Yours, Eglantine? Well, by the clocks on my stockings!

PANTALOON. It has been kept a secret.

EGLANTINE. You leave this deed of settlement with me?

PANTALOON. To hand to her ladys.h.i.+p when the ceremony ends.

EGLANTINE. What's this little farm like with its two hundred a year? Where is it?

[Mr. Talon doesn't know, it seems. Then, it is Harlequin who speaks.

HARLEQUIN. If your lords.h.i.+p pleases, it happens very strangely to be the place where Richardson, our singing chambermaid, was born; where she lived till I brought her here.

EGLANTINE. Her home?