Lyrics: Stephen Sondheim
Music: Stephen Sondheim
Now, as the sweet imbecilities
Tumble so lavishly
Onto her lap,
Oh Fredrick, what a day it's been!
Unending drama! While Petra was brushing my hair...
Now, there are two possibilities:
A, I could ravish her,
B, I could nap.
...that grumpy old Mrs. Nordstrom from next door
Her sister's coming for a visit
Say
It's the ravishment, then we see
The option
That follows, of course:
do hope I'm imperious enough with the servants
I try to be, but half the time I think they're laughing at me
A,
The deployment of charm, or B,
The adoption
Of physical force.
Now, B might arouse her,
But if I assume
I trip on my trouser
Leg crossing the room...
I can tell you how boring it was
Her hair getting tangled,
Her stays getting snapped,
My nerves would be jangled,
My energy sapped...
You should have seen Mrs. Erling and the fishmongers...
Removing her clothing
Would take me all day,
And her subsequent loathing
Would turn me away,
Which eliminates B
And which leaves us with A.
Could you ever be jealous of me? Could you?
Like the Moor of Venice
Now, insofar as approaching it,
What would be festive
But have its effect?
Shall I learn Italian?
I think it would be amusing
if the verbs aren't too irregular
Now, there are two ways of broaching it:
A, the suggestive,
And B, the direct.
But then French is a much chic-er language
Everyone says so. Parlez vous Francais?
Say
That I settle on B, to wit,
A charmingly
Lecherous mood,
I know you like my hair this way, but, on top my head
Like a siren
A,
I could put on my nightshirt or sit
Disarmingly,
B, in the nude.
That might be effective;
My body's all right--
But not in perspective
And not in the light.
I'm bound to be chilly
And feel a buffoon,
But nightshirts are silly
In mid-afternoon.
Which leaves the suggestive,
But how to proceed?
Although she gets restive,
Perhaps I could read.
In view of her penchant
For something romantic,
De Sade is too trenchant
And Dickens too frantic,
And Stendhal would ruin
The plan of attack,
As there isn't much blue in
"The Red and the Black."
De Maupassant's candour
Would cause her dismay,
The Brontes are grander
But not very gay,
Her taste is much blander,
I'm sorry to say,
But is Hans Christian Andersen
ever risque?
Which eliminates A...
And he said: "You're such a pretty lady!"
Wasn't that silly?
Now, with my mental facilities
Partially muddied
And ready to snap,
...I'm sure about the bracelet
But earrings, earrings! Which earrings?
Now, though there are possibilities
Still to be studied,
I might as well nap.
Mother's rubies? Oh, the diamonds are--
Agony! I know...
Bow
Though I must
To adjust
My original plan,
Desiree Armfeldt -- I just know she'll wear the most
glamorous gowns!
How
Shall I sleep
Half as deep
As I usually can,
Dear, distinguished old Fredrik!
When now I still want and/or love you,
Now as always,
Now, Anne
Oh Henry dear, don't you have anything less gloomy to practice?
It isn't gloomy, it's profound
Well, can't you be profound...later?
"Later"...
When is "later"?
All you ever hear is "Later, Henrik, Henrik, later."
"Yes, we know, Henrik,
Oh, Henrik,
Everyone agrees, Henrik,
Please, Henrik!"
You have a thought you're fairly bursting with,
A personal discovery or problem, and it's:
"What's your rush, Henrik?
Shush, Henrik!
Goodness, how you gush, Henrik!
Hush, Henrik!"
You murmur:
"I only--
It's just that--"
"For God's sake, later, Henrik!"
"Henrik...
Who is Henrik?
Oh, that lawyer's son, the one who mumbles.
Short and boring,
Yes, he's hardly worth ignoring,
And who cares if he's all dammed--"
I beg your pardon--
"Up inside?"
As I've often stated,
It's intolerable being tolerated.
"Reassure Henrik,
Poor Henrik.
Henrik, you'll endure
Being pure, Henrik."
Though I've been born, I've never been!
How can I wait around for later?
I'll be ninety on my deathbed
And the late, or, rather, later, Henrik Egerman.
Doesn't anything begin?
Soon, I promise,
Soon, I won't shy away,
Dear old--
Soon, I want to.
Soon, whatever you say.
Even now,
When you're close and we touch,
And you're kissing my brow,
I don't mind it too much.
And you'll have to admit I'm endearing,
I help keep things humming,
I'm not domineering--
What's one small shortcoming?
And think of how I adore you,
Think of how much you love me.
If I were perfect for you,
Wouldn't you tire of me
Soon,
All too soon,
Dear old--
Henrik!
That racket! Your father's sleeping!
Later
Soon
"Later"
I promise
When is "later"?
Soon, I won't shy away
"Later, Henry later." All you ever hear is:
"Yes, we know, Henrik,
Oh, Henrik,
Everyone agrees, Henrik,
Dear old...
Please, Henrik!"
Soon, I want to
Now, as the sweet imbecilities
"Later", when is "later", all you ever hear is:
trip on my trouser leg, Stendhal eliminates
Soon
Whatever you say
Even now, When you're close and we touch
I'll be ninety and dead
And you're kissing my brow
And I'm stroking your hair
I don't mind it too much
You'll come into my bed
And you'll have to admit I'm endearing
I help keep things humming,
I'm not domineering--
What's one small shortcoming?
And think of how I adore you,
Now/Soon
Think of how much you love me.
Now/Soon
If I were perfect for you,
Now/Soon
Wouldn't you tire of me
Later?
Come to me soon
We will, later
We will soon
I still want and/or love you
Later
Soon
Now, as always
Later
Soon
Now
Desiree