_Rat-catcher_ (_with equal brilliance_). Fear not, fair damsel. Behold, I will investigate. (_Proceeds to back of stage_.) _Archie_ (_from wings_). Come off, you idiot. _Rat-catcher_ (_always the gentleman--to Maid_). Tarry a while, my heart, what time I seek assistance. (_Exit._) _Maid_ (_confidentially to audience--to keep the thing going_). Truly he is a noble youth, though he follows a lowly profession. 'Tis not the apparel that proclaims the man. Me thinks.... _Me_ (_annoyed_). Who's an idiot? _Archie_. Didn't you see me wink? That ass Simpson's banged his nose against a door-post and is bleeding like a pig. Says it's because he hadn't got his spectacles. _Me_ (_still annoyed_). More likely the champagne. _Archie_. They're dropping keys down his back as hard as they can. Will you and Myra gag a bit, till he's ready? _Me_ (_excitedly_). My good fool, how on earth---- _Myra_ (_coming to back of stage_). But behold he returns. (_Frowns imperiously._) _Rat-catcher_ (_coming on again very unwillingly_). Ah, fair maid, 'tis thee. I bring thee good tidings. I met one in the ante-room, a long-legged, scurvy fellow, who did tell me that his Majesty was delayed on some business. _Maid_. That must have been his Conjuror--I know him well. (_Aside._) What's happened? _Rat-catcher_. Let us then rest a while, an it please thee. (_Seizing her by the arm._) Over here. That ass Simpson's hurt himself. We've got to amuse the audience till he's finished bleeding. _Maid_ (_sitting down with her back to audience_). I say, is it really serious? _Rat-catcher_. Not for him; it is for us. Now then, talk away. _Maid_. Er--h'm. (_Coyly._) Wilt not tell me of thy early life, noble sir, how thou didst become a catcher of rats? _Rat-catcher_ (_disgusted_). You coward! (_Aloud._) Nay, rather let me hear of thine own life. (_Aside._) Scored. _Maid_. That's not fair. I asked you first. (_Modestly._) But I am such a little thing, and you are so noble a youth. _Rat-catcher_. True. (_Having a dash at it._) 'Twas thus. My father, when I was yet a child, didst--did--no, didst--apprentice me to a salad binger---- _Maid_ (_with interest_). How dost one bing salads? _Rat-catcher_ (_curtly_). Ballad singer. And I would frequent the market-place at noon, singing catches and glees, and receiving from the entranced populace divers coins, curses, bricks and other ornaments. One morn, as I was embarked upon a lovely ballad, "Place me amidst the young gazelles," I was seized right suddenly from behind. (_Bored to death._) I'm sick of this. We're supposed to be amusing the audience. _Maid_. Oh, go on, I'm getting awfully amused. _Emperor_ (_audibly from green-room_). Confound it, it's begun again. _Executioner_ (_bitterly_). And to think that I spent hours putting red ink on my axe! _Maid_ (_with great presence of mind_). What's that? Surely that was a rat.