Mrs Andrews.

I don't think my dear husband could become more infantile.
Look at him with his shotgun trying to grasp out at some form of masculinity, I do think he is rather beautiful.
I force myself to think that because I have come across like I have not one ounce of bitterness.
The plan would never work otherwise.
When I spoke to the painter earlier I asked him whether he would reserve a space on the bench,
which Mr Andrews would presume was for his future heir.
In fact I only requested for this painting to be done
so I could have a memory to laugh and cry about.
The space in the picture was never planned for an angelic offspring,
but for one dear Mr Darcy.
Majorie our maid had consulted me to not have a dalliance with such a young rapscallion,
but perhaps that's what enchanted me about him,
his beautiful chest pulsating with overbearing passion,
certainly more than Mr Andrews:
'once a month for recreation'.
And whenever he consulted his conscience and realised he didn't have an offspring to leave his estate to, he pathetically tried to woo me into the four poster;
curiously it was never the right time of month.

Venus and Adonis

Venus

Look at him!
Sometimes I really do wonder why the hell I’m here.
I wouldn’t mind if it looked like he was paying me the least bit of attention.
But, as it is obvious to see, he isn’t.
I wasn’t born yesterday. Does he think I can’t see he is looking straight through me?
O but I’m not hurt no don’t jump to conclusions
I can live without him.
Who am I kidding?
Look at me, clinging on to him.
Hopeless, hopeless without him that’s what I am
But look at the good points he doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere fast does he.
Mission pretty much accomplished
One to me
Nil to him

Adonis

O for god sake!
I have a question for my self
Why the hell did I come back from hunting?
I don’t see it I have my dogs raring to go raring to hunt.
But still I’m stuck here with this woman stuck to my shooting arm.
Is she trying to jeopardise my daily catch.
Is she mad? Mind, don’t answer that question.
All she does is moan
Hence why I’m looking straight through her not at her
But I wouldn’t mind if she could catch a hint
But no she thinks I want to stay here, with her talking
Exactly what I don’t want to be doing
I would have thought because the painter was here
She would at least try not to look as desperate
I guess no one can be that lucky
Can they?
As you can probably see I have officially given up
One to her
Nil to me

Venus and Adonis

You come, you go
In and out of my life. For what?
Hunting.
Hunting those pointless beasts.
Leaving me behind, stark naked
In the cold, alone with Cupid.
Hopeless,
No-one to watch over me.
My life is at it's end.
Please,
I beg of you, Adonis,
Don't leave me.
My heart is empty,
I'm helpless without you.
I need you,
Adonis please,
Don't go.

venus and adonis

Venus

Why must you go hunting
when you could stay here with me
your scent, your touch,the feeling your there;
thats all i shall ever need
i hold on to you but you don't hold onto me
a one way relashionship its me myself and i,
we both know it should be:me you and..cupid?
ha! but what help is he,
standing there like some sort of king.
well then if he is, then this i pray:
Adonis my sweet dont go, please stay
for if you go you may never come back.
lets be together forever.Just Adonis and me!

Adonis

moan,moan,moan why cant she just let me be?
i need my independence
surely she can see
everone need there space even "her royalness"
im a mortal shes a godess
but i still have feelings.
i love her
that i cant deny
but im not kentucky
and shes not chicken
we cant always be together
itll drive me away
and then when im gone
im gone not even cupid will save me!

Mr and Mrs Andrews

Mr Andrews

This is the life!
What else could a man want?
Handsome face, wealth, bride, and a personal painter;
I hope he paints me properly, with a bit of nip and tuck here and there.
He better paint my wife properly too,
I don’t want her looking ugly,
What would the world say?
I cannot bear the thought of it.
Well no need to worry, I’ve got it all under control;
Flash some money under his nose and he paints the world’s most beautiful, delightful and wonderful picture
What would I do without money?
God knows
Well I would not have Mrs Andrews here for starters.

Mrs Andrews

My life is over.
Why do I have to sit in this position?
This corset! I can’t breathe!
In addition, I have to put on this stupid posh accent for the whole time this painter is here
I have to pretend that I am painting something like a child for me to hold.
How sad.
I can’t believe that this man bought off my parents so easily.
He played with our weakness and got a ‘beautiful lady companion’
Please! Reach out for the sick bucket;
Be sure to give me one as well.
I am definitely going to need it the most listening to this old crackpot 24/7.
He even mumbles in his sleep
Oh god!
Your not going to kiss me now are you.
I would rather wear this corset forever then kiss you.

Venus And Adonis

Going hunting that’s all he ever does
look at me clinging onto him like glue;
I may as well have gone for the dogs.
Cupid isn’t helping much either
staggering around in the back.
My stark naked body is cold from fear,
yet warm with love...
I’m spellbound by this mortal,
yet my beautiful love refuses to stay.
“Him not returning” is my worst fear
but his heart is somewhere else.
My love is gone, I guess Cupids real job
is done...

samson and delilah

He was a Herculean figure in anyone’s mind
It didn’t bother me though
For a man is not a man without a woman.
I wasn’t fearful of him, no
That would have been patronising
To fear a man of which his power was rooted in his hair?
Without his hair he was nothing,
As I soon found out
Without his hair he was like every other power hungry peasant
Hopeless, and in no way worthy of my accompaniment.
He was spellbound by love
In a way which only love can achieve,
As I sat there watching down like the eagles that swooped from above
I couldn’t help but realise, Samson was no longer a homicidal Hercules
He was more of a balding peasant who could barely hold his own weight
O how gay the birds had suddenly sounded as Samson awoke.
I suppose it was wrong,
But it felt so right,
With the god that had driven him to his destiny overlooking his unavoidable fate
And the peasants that were left after my Hercules had finished his killing spree
Crowding the doorway.
I don’t know how such a foul deed could be carried out under the eyes of god,
But whatever the reason,
Love is avoidable
Fate is not.