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When a bulldog I became,
Independence was my game,
But since my course I’m steering
By a rule that is more wise,
For I hear with other’s hearing,
And I see with other’s eyes.
GREG (derisively). Tooral, looral-ly!
SIM. That’s a risky think to say.
GREG. It’s my platform, I reply.
SIM. Platforms, Greg, are cheap to-day.
GREG. Which nobody can deny.
Man’s a man for a’ that, Sim.
SIM. For a what? say I,
GREG. For a that.
SIM. A that? what’s that?
GREG (after reflecting). Tooral, looral-ly!
BOTH. Up with caps and freedom hail!
Here’s the new election cry;
Man’s a man if born a male,
Tooral, looral, looral-ly!
GREG. Proc’s are spry, but I see through them!
I’m the man that will undo them!
With a wit like razors’ edges,
Twit them in the ‘Varsitee;
This the thin edge of the wedge is,
Spell them with a little p.
SIM (derisively). Tooral, looral-ly!
GREG. Culture’s fudge — see how I flout it,
SIM. Culture doesn’t pay, that’s why;
GREG. We reformers do without it,
SIM. Which nobody can deny.
GREG. Mad you are, my friend, go to!
SIM. Go to where? say I,
GREG. The missing word I leave to you.
SIM (after reflecting). Tooral, looral-ly!
BOTH. Up with caps and freedom hail!
Here’s the new election cry;
Man’s a man if born a male,
Tooral, looral, looral-ly!
DANCE.
Boots are placed outside the doors at this point. The BULLDOGS look scared, and exeunt downstairs.
Enter CADDIE. He collects boots in a laundress’s basket. The boots he loves are not among them. He is distressed. JANE ANNIE’s door opens and she puts out her boots. He is elated and goes for them. While he is getting them BAB’s arm appears outside her door, groping for her boots. As she doesn’t find then she comes out and looks for them. She sees basket, glides to it unseen by CADDIE, picks out her boots and exit with them. CADDIE returns with JANE ANNIE’s boots, fondling them. He sits down on basket and kisses them. Then he rises and tries to drop them among the others. This strikes him as sacrilege. He shakes his head, then ties the laces of JANE ANNIE’s boots together, slings them over his head, and exit, carrying basket.
PROCTOR. What is he up to? If I had only being going, I should be at the half-hour by this time, and then I could see with the left eye. Ten past nine! I little thought that the time would come when the grand ambition of my life would be to be nine-thirty. What is he doing upstairs? Hallo! a girl, and after some mischief. I wonder if I dare ask her to put me on twenty minutes. I feel very queer, as if I was turning into a real clock. I hope I sha’n’t strike.
ROSE and MILLY come softly out of their rooms.
MILLY. I have been thinking so much of what Bab told us that I can’t go to bed.
ROSE. Nor I — Oh, Milly!
MILLY. What time is it, Rose?
ROSE (holding candle to clock). Half-past nine.
PROCTOR (aside). I wish it was!
ROSE (to MILLY). What?
MILLY. I didn’t speak.
Flute heard outside.
ROSE. Listen!
MILLY. Oh, Rose! I am all of a tremble; turn up the gas.
BAB enters. Flute playing continues.
ROSE. It is he — Jack!
BAB (trembling). No, that is Tom!
MILLY. The other one!
BAB. Milly, he must have heard that I am to elope with Jack and doubtless he has come here to shoot me.
MILLY. How romantic!
ROSE. How delightful!
PROCTOR. How out of tune!
MILLY. Perhaps he has only come to ask you to give him back his presents.
ROSE. How horrid of him to bother you when you don’t care for him.
BAB. I never said I didn’t care for him.
MILLY. Oh!
ROSE. I hear him climbing up the ivy.
MILLY. He is coming to the window.
BAB. If he and Jack meet they will fight. (To GIRLS.) Leave us.
ROSE and MILLY exeunt. BAB hides. TOM enters from the window. He is very sad.
BALLAD. — TOM.
It was the time of thistledown,
The corn we wandered through;
She plucked the lover’s thistledown,
As maids are wont to do.
She blew upon the thistledown,
“He loves, he loves me not!”
And from the loyal thistledown,
“He loves” the answer got.
She did not ask the thistledown
If her own love were true;
No need to ask the thistledown,
She thought — as maidens do.
But had she asked the thistledown,
This answer she’d have got,
“Your false breath stains the thistledown,
He loves, but you love not.”
BAB (coming down). Tom! (They embrace.)
TOM. Then you do love me?
BAB (kissing him). Oh no, this is only saying goodbye.
TOM. You fling me over?
BAB. Jack insists on it.
TOM. Have you forgotten that day on the river, when —
BAB. When you kissed my hand? Oh, Tom, but I have been on the river since then with Jack, and he —
TOM. Kissed your hand also?
BAB. No, he did not kiss my — hand. (TOM takes something wrapped in paper from his pocket.) What is that?
TOM. The glove you gave me. (Gives it to her.) Give it to Jack. (Hands her something else.)
BAB. And what is this?
TOM. A hairpin. Give it to Jack. Goodbye!
BAB. Ah, Tom, you will soon forget me.
TOM. I am a man who loves but once, and then for aye.
BAB. You will be heartbroken about me all your life?
TOM. Till the grave close on me.
BAB. Dear Tom, you make me so happy. Now, kiss me passionately for the last time. You must see that it is not my fault.