Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 80

THE LADY.

Let brevity attend Thy wit, for night approaches to its end.

PIERROT.

Once was I a page at Court, so trust in me: That's the first lesson of society.

THE LADY.

Society?

PIERROT.

I mean the very best Pardy! thou wouldst not hear about the rest.

I know it not, but am a pet.i.t maitre At rout and festival and bal champetre.

But since example be instruction's ease, Let's play the thing.--Now, Madame, if you please!

[_He helps her to rise, and leads her forward: then he kisses her hand, bowing over it with a very courtly air._]

THE LADY.

What am I, then?

PIERROT.

A most divine Marquise!

Perhaps that att.i.tude hath too much ease.

[_Pa.s.ses her._]

Ah, that is better! To complete the plan, Nothing is necessary save a fan.

THE LADY.

Cool is the night, what needs it?

PIERROT.

Madame, pray Reflect, it is essential to our play.

THE LADY [_taking a lily_].

Here is my fan!

PIERROT.

So, use it with intent: The deadliest arm in beauty's armament!

THE LADY.

What do we next?

PIERROT.

We talk!

THE LADY.

But what about?

PIERROT.

We quiz the company and praise the rout; Are polished, petulant, malicious, sly, Or what you will, so reputations die.

Observe the d.u.c.h.ess in Venetian lace, With the red eminence.

THE LADY.

A pretty face!

PIERROT.

For something tarter set thy wits to search-- "She loves the churchman better than the church."

THE LADY.

Her blush is charming; would it were her own!

PIERROT.

Madame is merciless!

THE LADY.

Is that the tone?

PIERROT.

The very tone: I swear thou lackest naught.

Madame was evidently bred at Court.

THE LADY.

Thou speakest glibly: 'tis not of thine age.

PIERROT.

I listened much, as best becomes a page.

THE LADY.