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Musical: Candide
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(The Old Lady swats a mosquito. Cunegonde yawns.) OLD LADY Hoy-oy-oy-oy-oy! GOVERNOR Quiet. OLD LADY No doubt you'll think I'm giving in To petulance and malice, But in candor I am forced to say That I'm sick of gracious living in This stuffy little palace And I wish that I could leave today. I have suffered a lot And I'm certainly not Unaware that this life has its black side. I have starved in a ditch, I've been burned for a witch, And I'm missing the half of my backside. I've been beaten and whipped And repeatedly stripped, I've been forced into all kinds of whoredom; But I'm finding of late That the very worst fate Is to perish of comfort and BOREDOM. GOVERNOR Quiet. CUNEGONDE It was three years ago, As you very well know, That you said we would soon have a wedding; Every day you forget What you promised, and yet You continue to rumple my bedding. I'll no longer bring shame On my family name, I had rather lie down and be buried; No, I'll not lead the life Of an unwedded wife: Tell me, when are we going to be MARRIED? GOVERNOR Quiet. OLD LADY I was once, what is more, Nearly sawed in four By a specially clumsy magician; And you'd think I would feel After such an ordeal That there's charm in my present position. But I'd far rather be In a tempest at sea, Or a bloody North African riot, Than to sit in this dump On what's left of my rump And put up with this terrible QUIET Comfort and boredom and QUIET CUNEGONDE When are we going to be MARRIED? When are we going to be... GOVERNOR Quiet!
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