"Come into this village, my dear," says Fate; "into this by-street of this salubrious suburb, into this social circle, into this church, into this chapel.Now, my dear boy, out of these seventeen young ladies, which will you have?--out of these thirteen young men, which would you like for your very own, my dear?""No, miss, I am sorry, but I am not able to show you our up-stairs department to-day, the lift is not working.But I am sure we shall be able to find something in this room to suit you.Just look round, my dear, perhaps you will see something.""No, sir, I cannot show you the stock in the next room, we never take that out except for our very special customers.We keep our most expensive goods in that room.(Draw that curtain, Miss Circumstance, please.I have told you of that before.) Now, sir, wouldn't you like this one? This colour is quite the rage this season; we are getting rid of quite a lot of these.""NO, sir! Well, of course, it would not do for every one's taste to be the same.Perhaps something dark would suit you better.Bring out those two brunettes, Miss Circumstance.Charming girls both of them, don't you think so, sir? I should say the taller one for you, sir.Just one moment, sir, allow me.Now, what do you think of that, sir? might have been made to fit you, I'm sure.You prefer the shorter one.Certainly, sir, no difference to us at all.Both are the same price.There's nothing like having one's own fancy, Ialways say.NO, sir, I cannot put her aside for you, we never do that.Indeed, there's rather a run on brunettes just at present.Ihad a gentleman in only this morning, looking at this particular one, and he is going to call again to-night.Indeed, I am not at all sure--Oh, of course, sir, if you like to settle on this one now, that ends the matter.(Put those others away, Miss Circumstance, please, and mark this one sold.) I feel sure you'll like her, sir, when you get her home.Thank YOU, sir.Good-morning!""Now, miss, have YOU seen anything you fancy? YES, miss, this is all we have at anything near your price.(Shut those other cupboards, Miss Circumstance; never show more stock than you are obliged to, it only confuses customers.How often am I to tell you that?) YES, miss, you are quite right, there IS a slight blemish.
They all have some slight flaw.The makers say they can't help it--it's in the material.It's not once in a season we get a perfect specimen; and when we do ladies don't seem to care for it.Most of our customers prefer a little faultiness.They say it gives character.Now, look at this, miss.This sort of thing wears very well, warm and quiet.You'd like one with more colour in it?
Certainly.Miss Circumstance, reach me down the art patterns.NO, miss, we don't guarantee any of them over the year, so much depends on how you use them.OH YES, miss, they'll stand a fair amount of wear.People do tell you the quieter patterns last longer; but my experience is that one is much the same as another.There's really no telling any of them until you come to try them.We never recommend one more than another.There's a lot of chance about these goods, it's in the nature of them.What I always say to ladies is--'Please yourself, it's you who have got to wear it; and it's no good having an article you start by not liking.' YES, miss, it IS pretty and it looks well against you: it does indeed.Thank you, miss.Put that one aside, Miss Circumstance, please.See that it doesn't get mixed up with the unsold stock."It is a useful philtre, the juice of that small western flower, that Oberon drops upon our eyelids as we sleep.It solves all difficulties in a trice.Why of course Helena is the fairer.
Compare her with Hermia! Compare the raven with the dove! How could we ever have doubted for a moment? Bottom is an angel, Bottom is as wise as he is handsome.Oh, Oberon, we thank you for that drug.Matilda Jane is a goddess; Matilda Jane is a queen; no woman ever born of Eve was like Matilda Jane.The little pimple on her nose--her little, sweet, tip-tilted nose--how beautiful it is.Her bright eyes flash with temper now and then; how piquant is a temper in a woman.William is a dear old stupid, how lovable stupid men can be--especially when wise enough to love us.William does not shine in conversation; how we hate a magpie of a man.William's chin is what is called receding, just the sort of chin a beard looks well on.Bless you, Oberon darling, for that drug; rub it on our eyelids once again.Better let us have a bottle, Oberon, to keep by us.
Oberon, Oberon, what are you thinking of? You have given the bottle to Puck.Take it away from him, quick.Lord help us all if that Imp has the bottle.Lord save us from Puck while we sleep.
Or may we, fairy Oberon, regard your lotion as an eye-opener, rather than as an eye-closer? You remember the story the storks told the children, of the little girl who was a toad by day, only her sweet dark eyes being left to her.But at night, when the Prince clasped her close to his breast, lo! again she became the king's daughter, fairest and fondest of women.There be many royal ladies in Marshland, with bad complexion and thin straight hair, and the silly princes sneer and ride away to woo some kitchen wench decked out in queen's apparel.Lucky the prince upon whose eyelids Oberon has dropped the magic philtre.
In the gallery of a minor Continental town I have forgotten, hangs a picture that lives with me.The painting I cannot recall, whether good or bad; artists must forgive me for remembering only the subject.It shows a man, crucified by the roadside.No martyr he.
If ever a man deserved hanging it was this one.So much the artist has made clear.The face, even under its mask of agony, is an evil, treacherous face.A peasant girl clings to the cross; she stands tip-toe upon a patient donkey, straining her face upward for the half-dead man to stoop and kiss her lips.
