I fancy!
ROB. A man can do what he likes with his own!
SIR ROD. I suppose he can.
ROB. Well, then, he can forge his own will, stoopid! On
Thursday I shot a fox.
1ST GHOST. Hear, hear!
SIR ROD. That's better (addressing Ghosts). Pass the fox,
I think? (They assent.) Yes, pass the fox. Friday?
ROB. On Friday I forged a cheque.
SIR ROD. Whose cheque?
ROB. Old Adam's.
SIR ROD. But Old Adam hasn't a banker.
ROB. I didn't say I forged his banker--I said I forged his
cheque. On Saturday I disinherited my only son.
SIR ROD. But you haven't got a son.
ROB. No--not yet. I disinherited him in advance, to save
time. You see--by this arrangement--he'll be born ready
disinherited.
SIR ROD. I see. But I don't think you can do that.
ROB. My good sir, if I can't disinherit my own unborn son,
whose unborn son can I disinherit?
SIR ROD. Humph! These arguments sound very well, but I
can't help thinking that, if they were reduced to syllogistic
form, they wouldn't hold water. Now quite understand us. We are
foggy, but we don't permit our fogginess to be presumed upon.
Unless you undertake to--well, suppose we say, carry off a lady?
(Addressing Ghosts.) Those who are in favour of his carrying off
a lady? (All hold up their hands except a Bishop.) Those of the
contrary opinion? (Bishop holds up his hands.) Oh, you're never
satisfied! Yes, unless you undertake to carry off a lady at
once--I don't care what lady--any lady--choose your lady--you
perish in inconceivable agonies.
ROB. Carry off a lady? Certainly not, on any account.
I've the greatest respect for ladies, and I wouldn't do anything
of the kind for worlds! No, no. I'm not that kind of baronet, I
assure you! If that's all you've got to say, you'd better go
back to your frames.
SIR ROD. Very good--then let the agonies commence.

(Ghosts make passes. Robin begins to writhe in agony.)

ROB. Oh! Oh! Don't do that! I can't stand it!
SIR ROD. Painful, isn't it? It gets worse by degrees.
ROB. Oh--Oh! Stop a bit! Stop it, will you? I want to
speak.

(Sir Roderic makes signs to Ghosts, who resume their attitudes.)

SIR ROD. Better?
ROB. Yes--better now! Whew!
SIR ROD. Well, do you consent?
ROB. But it's suc