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devil: (Looking him over.) I beg your pardon, there seems to be one we missed. punch: See here now, who are you? devil: You can call me Nick. punch: The devil you say! devil: YouVe got it right the first time. I think you’ve met your match, Mr. Punch. (He aims his pitchfork.) I want you! punch: But but I don't want you! (The Devil lunges; Punch is forced to defend himself. A furious battle rages, but his club is no match for the pitchfork. The fatal thrust goes home; Punch crumples slowly down, beseeching.) Oh, oh, I am dying. Pray for me, children, I was such a good man. One, two, three, four, five, six—seven. (He falls into place at the bottom of the row.) (The Devil hoists him on his pitchfork.) |
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