Let's begin at home,
Crime is no exotic.
Bitter is your bane
Terrible your trials
Dingy Drury Lane
Soapless Seven Dials.
Take a tipsy lout
Gathered from the gutter,
Hustle him about,
Strap him to a shutter.
What am I but he,
Washed at hours stated.
Fed on filagree,
Clothed and educated
He's a mark of scorn
I might be another
If I had been born
Of a tipsy mother.
Take a wretched thief,
Through the city sneaking.
Pocket handkerchief
Ever, ever seeking.
What is he but I
Robbed of all my chances
Picking pockets by
force of circumstances
I might be as bad,
As unlucky, rather,
If I'd only had,
Fagin for a father.

STREPH. I suppose one ought to enjoy oneself in Parliament,
when one leads both Parties, as I do! But I'm miserable, poor,
broken-hearted fool that I am! Oh Phyllis, Phyllis!--

(Enter Phyllis.)
PHYL. Yes.
STREPH. (surprised). Phyllis! But I suppose I should say "My
Lady." I have not yet been informed which title your ladyship has
pleased to select?
PHYL. I--I haven't quite decided. You see, I have no mother
to advise me!
STREPH. No. I have.
PHYL. Yes; a young mother.
STREPH. Not very--a couple of centuries or so.
PHYL. Oh! She wears well.
STREPH. She does. She's a fairy.
PHYL. I beg your pardon--a what?
STREPH. Oh, I've no longer any reason to conceal the
fact--she's a fairy.
PHYL. A fairy! Well, but--that would account for a good many
things! Then--I suppose you're a fairy?
STREPH. I'm half a fairy.
PHYL. Which half?
STREPH. The upper half--down to the waistcoat.
PHYL. Dear me! (Prodding him with her fingers.) There is
nothing to show it!
STREPH. Don't do that.
PHYL. But why didn't you tell me this before?
STREPH. I thought you would take a dislike to me. But as
it's all off, you may as well know the truth--I'm only half