The Merry Widow Page #2

to forget.

I lay await, he's forgetting me.

It was just not meant to be.

And so it is, I must close my book

on dreams

and I sealed it with regret

and forget.

Madam Menosca. Yes, madam.

My new dress. Yes, madam.

Get everything ready.

We're going to Paris tomorrow,

tomorrow morning,

as soon as possible. Yes, madam.

There's a limit to every widow.

The melody of laughter flowed

many times that

it flows here many times

Pretty lover, your pearls

and your lavander,

soon will enlighten the eye

of each cavalier.

Around a lei of roses and glances

and he glances like romances

once again I meant to be melody

of love in Paris in the spring.

Who is it?

It's your suspenders, your Majesty

Any news, your Majesty.

Conditions are bad. Terrible.

What do you hear?

Well, you see, your Majesty.

After all,

we're a sheep and cow country.

Who's complaining now?

The shepherds.

Ah.

I overheard two shepherds

in the street yesterday.

What did they say?

Now, tell me...

The opinion of the shepherd on

the street,

that's what I want to know.

They say when the richest woman

gets fed up in the country

and leaves.

Ah. So they're blaming me

for everything.

They're even telling jokes

about your Majesty.

Are they funny? That's bad.

If conditions don't improve,

the shepherds are going

to organize

They say there's already

some talk of black sheep movement.

Were they prominent shepherds?

Couple of East side shepherds.

Intellectuals? Yes.

Let them talk.

Are you staying out late tonight,

darling?

You ought to know

how it is these cabinet meetings.

Do you think

it will last all night?

Now, please don't bother me.

Too enough

to have a widow in Paris

to worry about without having

a Queen in bed nagging me.

Widow. Widow. That's all I hear.

A king worrying about a widow.

Not a widow. The widow.

The richest widow in the world.

In Europe.

Well, anyhow, she owns more than

half of Marshovia.

Do you realize that she is

in every cow

in the country for 52 percent?

But you belong to me,

don't you, darling?

Read this telegraph from

our ambassador in Paris.

Widow sensation in Paris.

Fortune hunters are arriving

daily. Marriage in the air.

Unless Marshovia acts quickly,

fear national fortune goes into

foreign hands.

I know what to do

but am too old to do it.

Darling, how late do you think

you'll be denied?

Now,

let me pump this into your head.

You and I are living on her taxes.

If she doesn't come back,

if she withdraws her money from

the country,

the National Bank will close.

The country goes bankrupt.

There will be a revolution.

Then we'll be trampled from

our throne.

Ugly. Something must be done.

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