h are irresistibly
funny--all the more so because there is nothing whatever to provoke
this display of ferocity. Finally he stops in front of the footlights,
strikes an attitude, and delivers himself thus: "For to-day, Scapin, I
am willing to let my man-killer here have a little rest, so that there
may be an opportunity to get all its recent victims decently buried, in
the cemeteries I contribute so largely towards filling. When a man
has performed such feats of courage and carnage as I have--killing my
hundreds single-handed, while my dastardly comrades trembled with fear,
or turned and fled from the foe--to say nothing of my daily affairs of
honour, now that the wars are over--he may assuredly indulge himself
occasionally in milder amusements. Besides, the whole civilized world,
having now been subjugated by my good sword, no longer offers any
resistance to my indomitable arm, and Atropos, the eldest of the dread
Parcae sisters, has sent word to me that the fatal scissors, with which
she cuts the threads of human lives, have become so dulled by the great
amount of work my trusty blade has given her to do with them, that she
has been obliged to send them to Vulcan to be sharpened, and she begs
for a short respite. So you see, Scapin, I must put force upon myself
and restrain my natural ardour--refrain for a time from wars, massacres,
sacking of cities, stand-up fights with giants, killing of monsters and
dragons, like Theseus and Hercules of glorious memory, and all the other
little pastimes which usually occupy my good sword and me. I will take
my ease now for a brief period, and Death may enjoy a short rest too.
But to whom did my worthy prototype, Mars, the great god of war, devote
HIS leisure hours? in whose sweet society did HE find delight? Ask
Venus, the immortal goddess of love and beauty, who had the good taste
to prefer a warlike man to all others, and lent a willing ear to the
suit of my valiant predecessor. So I, following his illustrious example,
condescend to turn my attention for the moment to the tender sex, and
pay my court to the fair Isabelle, the young and beautiful object of my
ardent love. Being aware that Cupid, with all his assurance, would not
dare to aim one of his golden-tipped arrows at such an all-conquering
hero as my unworthy self, I have given him a little encouragement; and,
in order that the shaft may penetrate to the generous lion's heart that
beats in this broad breast, I have laid asi