ROB. Soho! pretty one—in my power at last, eh? Know ye not that I have those within my call who, at my lightest bidding, would immure ye in an uncomfortable dungeon? (Calling.) What ho! within there! RICH. Hold—we are prepared for this (producing a Union Jack). Here is a flag that none dare defy (all kneel), and while this glorious rag floats over Rose Maybud's head, the man does not live who would dare to lay unlicensed hand upon her! ROB. Foiled—and by a Union Jack! But a time will come, and then—- ROSE. Nay, let me plead with him. (To Robin.) Sir Ruthven, have pity. In my book of etiquette the case of a maiden about to be wedded to one who unexpectedly turns out to be a baronet with a curse on him is not considered. Time was when you loved me madly. Prove that this was no selfish love by according your consent to my marriage with one who, if he be not you yourself, is the next best thing—your dearest friend! BALLAD—ROSE. In bygone days I had thy love— Thou hadst my heart. But Fate, all human vows above, Our lives did part! By the old love thou hadst for me— By the fond heart that beat for thee— By joys that never now can be, Grant thou my prayer! ALL (kneeling). Grant thou her prayer! ROB. (recitative). Take her—I yield! ALL. (recitative). Oh, rapture! (All rising.) CHORUS. Away to the parson we go— Say we're solicitous very That he will turn two into one— Singing hey, derry down derry! RICH. For she is such a smart little craft- ROSE. Such a neat little, sweet little craft— RICH. Such a bright little- ROSE. Tight little- RICH. Slight little- ROSE. Light little- BOTH. Trim little, prim little craft! CHORUS. For she is such a smart little craft, etc. (Exeunt all but Robin.) ROB. For a week I have fulfilled my accursed doom! I have duly committed a crime a day! Not a great crime, I trust, but still, in the eyes of one as strictly regulated as I used to be, a crime. But will my ghostly ancestors be satisfied with what I have done, or will they regard it as an unworthy subterfuge? (Addressing Pictures.) Oh, my forefathers, wallowers in blood, there came at last a day when, sick of crime, you, each and every, vowed to sin no more, and so, in agony, called welcome Death to free you from your cloying guiltiness. Let the sweet psalm of that repentant hour soften your long-dead hearts, and tune your souls to mercy on your poor posterity! (Kneeling).