KO. Katisha--behold a suppliant at your feet!
Katisha--mercy!
KAT. Mercy? Had you mercy on him? See here, you! You
have slain my love. He did not love me, but he would have loved
me in time. I am an acquired taste--only the educated palate can
appreciate me. I was educating his palate when he left me.
Well, he is dead, and where shall I find another? It takes years
to train a man to love me. Am I to go through the weary round
again, and, at the same time, implore mercy for you who robbed me
of my prey--I mean my pupil--just as his education was on the
point of completion? Oh, where shall I find another?
KO. (suddenly, and with great vehemence). Here!--Here!
KAT. What!!!
KO. (with intense passion). Katisha, for years I have
loved you with a white-hot passion that is slowly but surely
consuming my very vitals! Ah, shrink not from me! If there is
aught of woman's mercy in your heart, turn not away from a
love-sick suppliant whose every fibre thrills at your tiniest
touch! True it is that, under a poor mask of disgust, I have
endeavoured to conceal a passion whose inner fires are broiling
the soul within me! But the fire will not be smothered--it
defies all attempts at extinction, and, breaking forth, all the
more eagerly for its long restraint, it declares itself in words
that will not be weighed--that cannot be schooled--that should
not be too severely criticised. Katisha, I dare not hope for
your love--but I will not live without it! Darling!
KAT. You, whose hands still reek with the blood of my
betrothed, dare to address words of passion to the woman you have
so foully wronged!
KO. I do--accept my love, or I perish on the spot!
KAT. Go to! Who knows so well as I that no one ever yet
died of a broken heart!
KO. You know not what you say. Listen!

SONG--KO-KO.

On a tree by a river a little tom-tit
Sang "Willow, titwillow, titwillow!"
And I said to him, "Dicky-bird, why do you sit
Singing Willow, titwillow, titwillow'?"
"Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?" I cried,
"Or a rather tough worm in your little inside?"
With a shake of his poor little head, he replied,
"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!"

He slapped at his chest, as he sat on that bough,
Singing "Willow,