(_Atalanta appears on balcony above._) She speaks--yet nothing says! She's not to blame, Members of Parliament do much the same. Her mouth rests on her hand--I'm not above Wishing I were upon that hand a glove. Gladly the storms of Poverty I'd weather, So we might live from hand to mouth together! Elsewhere Hippomenes delivers himself of a superexcellent pun. Some one says to him, referring to his studies,--"But think of your degree"; to which he replies:-- I do--and see 'Tis a _degree_ too _far-in-height_ for me. After "Atalanta"[11] came Talfourd's "Pluto and Proserpine, or the Belle and the Pomegranate," played at the Haymarket in 1858, and his "Electra in an Electric Light," performed at the Haymarket the year following. In "Pluto and Proserpine," as in his other pieces, the original myth is followed closely. One passage supplies a happy parody of the famous "palace-lifting-to-eternal-summer" speech in "The Lady of Lyons." Pluto has appeared to Proserpine as a young man, and has laid siege to her heart in proper form. He is careful not to disclose his identity. At last Proserpine says:-- [11] Of recent years Atalanta has been made the heroine of a burlesque by Mr. G. P. Hawtrey. Of this I give some account in my final chapter on "The New Burlesque." But I must know at least, sir, where you lodge. _Pluto_ (_aside_). I'll try the popular Claude Melnotte dodge. (_Walks her across the stage, as Claude does Pauline._) If, therefore, dearest, you would have me paint My residence exactly (_aside_) as it ain't, (_Aloud_) I would entreat you, Proserpine, to come where A palace lifting to eternal--somewhere-- Its marble halls invites us. _Proserp._ By-the-bye, Where is this place? _Pluto_ (_embarrassed_). In the Isle of Skye. Thy days all cloudless sunshine shall remain, For on our pleasure we will ne'er draw _rein_; At noon we'd sit beneath the vine-arched bowers, And, losing all our calculating powers, Think days but minutes--reckoning time by _ours_; Darkness shall be at once with light replaced, When my hand lights on that light taper waist; Our friends shall all true constant lovers be (So we should not be bored with company); Love's Entertainments only would we seek, And, sending up to Mudie's once a week, No tales that were not Lover's we'd bespeak, No sentiments in which we were not sharers (Think what a lot of rubbish that would spare us).... Dost like the picture, love, or are you bored? _Proserp._ Beautiful! _Pluto_ (_aside_). 'Tis a copy after _Claude_. "Pluto and Proserpine" has the usual supply of puns, as in the following couplet:-- _Diana._ You never weigh a word, dear, you're so wild. _Proserp._ You used to call me such a _wayward_ child.