Strawman [with his little girls round him].
No, love's a pear tree; in the spring like snow With myriad blossoms, which in summer grow To pearlets; in the parent's sap each shares;— And with God's help they'll all alike prove pears.
Falk.
So many heads, so many sentences! No, you all grope and blunder off the line. Each simile's at fault; I'll tell you mine;— You're free to turn and wrest it as you please.
[Rises as if to make a speech.
In the remotest east there grows a plant;
And the sun's cousin's garden is its haunt—
The Ladies.
Ah, it's the tea-plant!
Falk.
Yes.
Mrs. Strawman.
His voice is so
Like Strawman's when he—
Strawman.
Don't disturb his flow.
Falk.
It has its home in fabled lands serene;
Thousands of miles of desert lie between;—