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VIRAG: (Head askew, arches his back and hunched wing-
shoulders, peers at the moth out of blear bulged eyes, points
a horning claw and cries) Who’s moth moth? Who’s dear
Gerald? Dear Ger, that you? O dear, he is Gerald. O, I much
fear he shall be most badly burned. Will some pleashe per-
shon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation
of firstclass tablenumpkin? (He mews) Puss puss puss puss!
(He sighs, draws back and stares sideways down with drop-
ping underjaw) Well, well. He doth rest anon. (he snaps his
jaws suddenly on the air)
THE MOTH:
I’m a tiny tiny thing
Ever flying in the spring
Round and round a ringaring.
Long ago I was a king
Now I do this kind of thing
On the wing, on the wing!
Bing!(He rushes against the mauve shade, flapping noisily)
Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.
(From left upper entrance with two gliding steps Henry
Flower comes forward to left front centre. He wears a dark
mantle and drooping plumed sombrero. He carries a silver-
stringed inlaid dulcimer and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob’s
pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a female head. He wears dark
velvet hose and silverbuckled pumps. He has the romantic
Saviour’s face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache.