GIMBLET: |
I'm sure this is not religion. [Sings to PHILOSOPHERS,
COLUMN, TILLY LALLY, and ARADOBO: the men work hard at ignoring
her flirtations; the boy is enraptured]
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And "Thou shalt not" writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore,
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires. |
ARADOBO: |
[to GIMBLET, staring at her breasts] Is Chatterton a mathematician? |
OBTUSE ANGLE: |
No. How can you be so foolish as to think he was? |
ARADOBO: |
Oh, I did not think he was; I only asked. |
OBTUSE ANGLE: |
How could you think he was not, and ask if he was? |
ARADOBO: |
Oh no, sir. I did not think he was, before you told me, but afterwards
I thought he was not. |
OBTUSE ANGLE: |
In the first place you thought he was, and then afterwards when
I said he was not, you thought he was not. Why, I know that . .
. |
ARADOBO: |
Oh no, sir, I thought that he was not, but I asked to know whether
he was. |
OBTUSE ANGLE: |
How can that be? How could you ask and think that he was not? |