MEGAERA. Then I’ll make my way through the forest; and when I’m eaten by the wild beasts you’ll know what a wife you’ve lost. (_She dashes into the jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping lion_). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy! (_She totters back and collapses into the arms of Androcles, who, crushed by her weight, falls on his bundle_). ANDROCLES. (_extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her hands in great anxiety_) What is it, my precious, my pet? What’s the matter? (_He raises her head. Speechless with terror, she points in the direction of the sleeping lion. He steals cautiously towards the spot indicated by Megæra. She rises with an effort and totters after him_). MEGAERA. No, Andy: you’ll be killed. Come back. _The lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and recoils fainting into the arms of Megæra, who falls back on the bundle. They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another. The lion is heard groaning heavily in the jungle._ ANDROCLES. (_whispering_) Did you see? A lion. MEGAERA. (_despairing_) The gods have sent him to punish us because you’re a Christian. Take me away, Andy. Save me. ANDROCLES. (_rising_) Meggy: there’s one chance for you. It’ll take him pretty nigh twenty minutes to eat me (_I’m rather stringy and tough_) and you can escape in less time than that. MEGAERA. Oh, don’t talk about eating. (_The lion rises with a great groan and limps towards them_). Oh! (_She faints_). ANDROCLES. (_quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megæra_) Don’t you come near my wife, do you hear? (_The lion groans. Androcles can hardly stand for trembling_). Meggy: run. Run for your life. If I take my eye off him, its all up. (_The lion holds up his wounded paw and flaps it piteously before Androcles_). Oh, he’s lame, poor old chap! He’s got a thorn in his paw. A frightfully big thorn. (_Full of sympathy_) Oh, poor old man! Did um get an awful thorn into um’s tootsums wootsums? Has it made um too sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um’s breakfast? Oh, a nice little Christian man will get um’s thorn out for um; and then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice Christian man’s nice big tender wifey pifey. (_The lion responds by moans of self-pity_). Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Now, now (_taking the paw in his hand_) um is not to bite and not to scratch, not even if it hurts a very, very little. Now make velvet paws. That’s right. (_He pulls gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an angry yell of pain, jerks back his paw so abruptly that Androcles is thrown on his back_). Steadeee! Oh, did the nasty cruel little Christian man hurt the sore paw? (_The lion moans assentingly but apologetically_). Well, one more little pull and it will be all over. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then um will live happily ever after. (_He gives the thorn another pull. The lion roars and snaps his jaws with a terrifying clash_). Oh, mustn’t frighten um’s good kind doctor, um’s affectionate nursey. That didn’t