(My dream last night. I need to stop reading/watching British books and movies and the BBC...)
Benedict. I hope, Katie, I shall not offend you if I state quite frankly and openly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection. (flattery will get you anywhere darling)
Katie. I think your frankness does you great credit, Benedict. If you will allow me, I will copy your remarks into my diary. (obviously a dream as I don't ever write in a diary!)
Benedict. Do you really keep a diary? I'd give anything to look at it. May I?
Katie. Oh no. You see, it is simply a girl's record of her own thoughts and impressions, and consequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume form I hope you will order a copy. But pray, Benedict, don't stop. I delight in taking down from dictation. I have reached absolute perfection. You can go on. I am quite ready for more.
Benedict. Katie, ever since I first looked upon your wonderful and incomparable beauty, I have dared to love you wildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly. (keep talking baby)
Katie. I don't think that you should tell me that you love me wildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly. Hopelessly doesn't seem to make much sense, does it? (because it's not hopeless. Done and done)
Benedict. I don't care for anybody in the whole world but you. I love you, Katie. You will marry me, won't you?
Katie. You silly boy! Of course. Why, we have been engaged for the last three months. (Hadn't you heard??)
Benedict. For the last three months?
Katie. Yes, it will be exactly three months on Thursday.
Benedict. But how did we become engaged?
Katie. Well, ever since I first saw you, you of course have formed the chief topic of conversation between myself and anyone who will listen. And of course a man who is much talked about is always very attractive. One feels there must be something in him, after all. I daresay it was foolish of me, but I fell in love with you, Benedict.
Benedict. Darling! And when was the engagement actually settled?
Katie. On the 14th of February last. Worn out by your entire ignorance of my existence, I determined to end the matter one way or the other, and after a long struggle with myself I accepted you under this dear old tree here. The next day I bought this little ring in your name, and this is the little bangle with the true lovers knot I promised you always to wear. ("Entire ignorance of my existence." Never let that stop you!)
Benedict. Did I give you this? Its very pretty, isnt it?
Katie. Yes, you've wonderfully good taste, Benedict. It's the excuse I've always given for your leading such a bad life. And this is the box in which I keep all your dear letters.
Benedict. My letters! But, my own sweet Katie, I have never written you any letters.
Katie. You need hardly remind me of that, Benedict. I remember only too well that I was forced to write your letters for you. I wrote always three times a week, and sometimes oftener. (I wrote letters as it's hard to call yourself and pretend it's from someone else...)
Benedict. Oh, do let me read them, Katie?
Katie. Oh, I couldn't possibly. They would make you far too conceited. The three you wrote me after I had broken of the engagement are so beautiful, and so badly spelled, that even now I can hardly read them without crying a little.
Benedict. But was our engagement ever broken off?
Katie. Of course it was. On the 22nd of last March. You can see the entry if you like. To-day I broke off my engagement with Benedict. I feel it is better to do so. The weather still continues charming.
Benedict. But why on earth did you break it of? What had I done? I had done nothing at all. Katie, I am very much hurt indeed to hear you broke it off. Particularly when the weather was so charming.
Katie. It would hardly have been a really serious engagement if it hadnt been broken off at least once. But I forgave you before the week was out.
Benedict: What a perfect angel you are, Katie.
Katie. You dear romantic boy. I hope your hair curls naturally, does it? (very important)
Benedict. Yes, darling, with a little help from others.
Katie. I am so glad.
Benedict. Youll never break of our engagement again, Katie?
Katie. I dont think I could break it off now that I have actually met you. Besides, of course, there is the question of your name.
Benedict. Yes, of course.
Katie. You must not laugh at me, darling, but it had always been a girlish dream of mine to love some one whose name was Benedict. There is something in that name that seems to inspire absolute confidence. I pity any poor married woman whose husband is not called Benedict.
Perhaps next time I will share one of his beautiful letters that he (I) wrote to me. Sigh...