-Extract-
LADY MAUD: You are very handsome - very, very handsome. I'm glad you're only a picture. If you were a real living man, I should be obliged to be rather particular, but as it is I may say what I like to you.
No 10: Song - Lady Maud & Sir Cecil Brount
Lady Maud:
So please you, Sir, to hear my story while I tell
The happiness awaiting you: a maiden loves you well.
She dares not to declare the love that makes her sigh,
And would you know that maiden, so please you, Sir, tis I.
She would a saint beguile, her hair is soft and bright,
A happy laugh, a pleasant smile, and eyes that dance with light,
A dimple here and there, a pretty, touching sigh,
And would you know that maiden, so please you, Sir, tis I.
Sir Cecil:
A sweeter fate I never heard, my gratitude you've earned.
Lady Maud:
(My goodness me, he's talking!)
Sir Cecil:
The compliment, upon my word, was very neatly turned.
Lady Maud:
(My goodness me, he's walking!)
Sir Cecil:
Her goodness she, I'm walking!
Lady Maud:
To laugh it off I can't contrive, with fright I'm nearly fainting,
I never thought you were alive, I thought you were a painting!
Both:
To laugh it off I/she can't contrive, with fright I'm/she's nearly fainting.
I never thought you were/I was alive, I thought you were/I was a painting.
(dialogue continues)
SIR C: I am indeed, so are you.
LADY M.: How do you know that?
SIR C.: How do I know it? Why, didn't you hang up there during the ten years I occupied this castle?
LADY M.: Did you occupy this castle for ten years?
SIR C.: I did indeed.
LADY M.: But how do you know I'm not the original of whom that picture is a portrait?
SIR C.: Because there's a limit to the beauties of Nature, there's no limit to the beauties of Art. In other words, you're a great deal too good to be true. Angels are not half as bright as they are painted, and the famous Leonardo da Vinci was a terrible flatterer.
LADY M.: Famous! Why he was a mere nobody who painted me for a few pounds.
SIR C.: Ah! but after your melancholy decease, pardon my alluding to that distressing topic, he grew in fame and fortune, and before he died, Europe rang with his fame. Now (looking at LADY M. critically), I should say you are worth at least £2,000.
LADY M.: Is it possible? And you?
SIR C.: I'm a Michael Angelo. A very fine example, painted by him five years before I came, quite unexpectedly, into possession of this castle, and six years before his death. I'm worth at least as much as you. Indeed, I'm a much finer picture.
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