All.—
A regular sockdologer.
Prof.—
A graduated colledger.
My name is Finigin;
I get my knowledge from the stars
From pickled snakes put up in jars,
From dead men’s wired vertebras,
From skulls of apes and men.
(
Prof. turns
and scowls.)
——trologer.
He is a great ass—trologer.
He is a great ass—trologer!
Prof.—
I take a pint of kerosene,
Chem.—
Tremendous pint of kerosene.
Prof.—
And let two hours intervene,
Then mix it in a pill,
Four candle ends, molasses too,
With squills and ginger-snaps and glue,
’Twill settle any one of you,
And cure your every ill.
All.—
That is a great li——
(Prof. turns and scowls.)
——fe preserver.
That is a great li——fe preserver.
That is a great li——fe preserver!
(Prof. turns and
comes down front to King.)
Prof.—
That’s but the smallest part of what I know;
Now, if you like, I’ll go ahead and show
The relative conditions that appear
In pharmacologistic law.
(Opens large dictionary.)
(Prof. scowls,
looks severely at Sassy, then to all.)
Prof.—
Apparently this subject isn’t one
Of universal interest—
(Shuts dictionary with a bang.)
King.—
Well, yes! as you were saying—it is late,
(Cheerfully.) And we have some important things to state.
(Calling)—Hey! Caramella!!
Here’s the first of men,
Professor Paracelsus Finigin.
Cara. (frightened).—
Oh, thank you!
Prof.—
Charmed! I do assure you, me’m,
Quite pretty well, considering?
Chemists (very loudly).—
Ahem!!
Cara. (starting).—
O dear! What’s that?
Prof.—
Excuse me, I forgot—
You want an introduction, do you not?
Chem.—H’m, H’m! (Assenting.)
Prof.—Well, this is Princess Caramella, daughter of our
honored king, Nougat First.
Chem.—Ho! Ho! (Surprised.)
Prof. (to Cara.)—And these gentlemen are followers in my
footsteps and like me, though in a minor degree.
Doctors of Science and Registered Pharmacists.
Chem.—Ha! Ha! (Satisfaction.)
Prof. (introducing).—Princess Caramella—Registered Pharmacists.
Registered Pharmacists—Princess Caramella.
Chem.—He, he! (Laughing.)
(Cara. and
Chemists bow.)
King.—
And now, most learned gentlemen, we’ll tell
The reason why we want you.
King.—
Our daughter here is sad and sick at heart,
And very much in need of all your art.
She’s eaten so much candy here and there,
That for a lover’s sweetness she don’t care,
And seems unable to pick out, or know
A husband, when she sees him.
Cara.—
Oh yes! what shall we do?
Please think of something nice, I trust in you.
Prof.—
H’m, h’m, the case is bad.
Cara.—
Oh, say not so!
I think I’d like to have a real nice beau;
An interesting lover—brave and strong,
And handsome, too—with ringlets light and long,
Yes, find me such an one—
(Long pause. By-play.
Prof. and all thinking.)
Prof. (suddenly).—
I have it—stop!
I think I have a meal-bag in my shop,
’Twill make a first-rate stomach, filled with straw;
I’ll warrant it to last six years and more.
A pair of wooden legs—keep still! be calm,
If I remember right, I have an arm.
Cara.—
Oh! that’s just splendid!
King.—
We don’t understand.
A pair of legs—explain it—we command!
Cara.—
Why father, don’t you see? He’ll make a beau.
Prof.—
Yes; manufacture one to order.
Prof.—
I’ve often made ’em—nothing new to me—
Alchemic science—chemistry.
Prof.—
And now, as that is all arranged, my lord,
Suppose we shape and settle my reward.
King.—
Oh, yes! most true—we’re sorry it is so,
But as it happens—Saturday, you know—
On Saturday we’re always short. Good-bye!
We’ll see you soon, and settle. (Aside.) What a lie!
Prof.—
Excuse me, an advance must now be made,
Or else the lover’s clothes will be delayed.
Some money I must have to buy his hat,
His shoes and stockings, coat, and this and that.
King.—
Well, how much, then? (Angrily.)
King.—
That’s too steep.
We haven’t it!
Prof.—
Well, then, the beau I’ll keep.
King.—
We haven’t it!
(To Prof.) Now, look’ee here,
We think that price is very much too dear;
But we can make a compromise, we think,
We’ll give a dollar and seventy cents—in chink.
The other thirty cents cannot be paid
In cash; but take your pick of any maid
Of all these!
King (angrily shouting).—
The entire crew!!
Sassy.—
No, sir! (Coming forward.)
King.—
We’ll throw in Sassyfrass, too!!
(
Maids and
Sassy. all crowd together
L. and talk.)
Prof.—
It’s done! (Joyfully).
Sassy.—
We don’t mean offence,
But we’re not going to be sold for thirty cents.
We don’t mind being sold at our own price,
But sold for thirty cents—it isn’t nice.
(Music. Maids
and Sassy. all talk together—then
on last note all scream—Sassy. takes
up note.)