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Kat. (whimpering). Did he really die of love?
Ko. He really did.
Kat. All on account of a cruel little hen?
Ko. Yes.
Kat. Poor little chap!
Ko. It's an affecting tale, and quite true. I knew the bird intimately.
Kat. Did you? He must have been very fond of her.
Ko. His devotion was something extraordinary.
Kat. (still whimpering). Poor little chap! And— and if I refuse you, will you go and do the same?
Ko. At once.
Kat. No, no— you mustn't! Anything but that! (Falls on his breast.) Oh, I'm a silly little goose!
Ko. (making a wry face). You are!
Kat. And you won't hate me because I'm just a little teeny weeny wee bit bloodthirsty, will you?
Ko. Hate you? Oh, Katisha! is there not beauty even in bloodthirstiness?
Kat. My idea exactly.
DUET.—Katisha and Ko-Ko.
Kat.There is beauty in the bellow of the blast,
There is grandeur in the growling of the gale,
There is eloquent outpouring
When the lion is a-roaring,
And the tiger is a-lashing of his tail!
Ko.Yes, I like to see a tiger
From the Congo or the Niger,
And especially when lashing of his tail!
Kat.Volcanoes have a splendour that is grim,
And earthquakes only terrify the dolts,
But to him who's scientific
There's nothing that's terrific
In the falling of a flight of thunderbolts!
Ko.Yes, in spite of all my meekness,
If I have a little weakness,
It's a passion for a flight of thunderbolts!
Both.If that is so,
Sing derry down derry!
It's evident, very,
Our tastes are one.
Away we'll go,
And merrily marry,
Nor tardily tarry
Till day is done!
Ko.There is beauty in extreme old age—
