knot.... and now

(_here you stride to a position in front of the chair, which
you survey with folded arms, and a mocking smile_)

--my feigning's done!

Writhe as you will, I have you at my mercy.
BALDWIN MCASSIR, have we met at last?

[_In a terrible voice._

You know me not?--then quail, for I am he
By you bereft of BANDOLINA'S love!
Fear not that I would stoop to seek your life--
My vengeance shall be sated on your hair,
And that is doomed to perish past recall!
Cast up your eyes to yonder whirling wheel:

[_Point to ceiling with air of command._

Then on this brush--'tis set with bristling wires
(Some frivoller termed it my _Cheveux de Frizz_),
Which, with revolving teeth, shall shortly rake
Those curls by BANDOLINA oft caressed,

[_With a cold sneer._

You like the prospect? I have fluids here--
"Elixirs to evolve the latent hair,"
With others, christened (in some franker mood)
"Depilatory Agents,"--scarce less potent:
Upon your helpless head I'll pour them _all_!

(_Arm raised--savage and threatening aspect._)

Nay, smile not thus defiance through your gag--
I swear to lay that haughty crest so low,
That never shall it soar in pride again!
Enough of words--to action!... Still that smile--
So bitter, yet so calm--it maddens me,
I'll stay my hand no longer!--

(_violent plunge with right arm--after which you recoil and
seem to gaze aghast at some object you are holding_)

--juggling fiend!
Was _this_ the secret of your dauntless port?
And could my practised eye be so deceived?

(_In a tone of lofty and dignified resignation._)

Yet, seeing I am thus forestalled by Fate,
I do renounce my purpose--since I must:
Take back your wig, MCASSIR, go in peace.

[_Bitter scorn._

Stay--while, in token that my heart is changed,
I coax it into comeliness anew.
Permit me to unloose you--you are free,
And owe me but a trifle--eighteenpence,

[_Mournfully._

Pay at the counter as you pass without.

(_Here you are supposed to watch your rival's exit with a gloomy
scowl._)

Thus ends my vengeance as some idle dream,
Yet no--'tis but deferred, with interest!

(_You conclude with a bitter apostrophe to your