University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—FLORAL HOME OF THE SPIRIT OF FRESH AIR.
[After which,
Fresh Air runs on, her hair streaming over her shoulders.
Fresh Air.
Stop, fairies, please—a moment's grace, I pray:
Remember that we've work to do to-day.
Cock Robin marries Jenny Wren, and I
Have bidden all the songsters of the sky.
What shall we give them all to eat and drink?
What diet suits them best?—now let me think!
Butler and Cook, assist us with your counsel.

Fairy Butler and Cook come forwaed.
Cook.
[Suggesting.]
Chickweed en Papillote, or scolloped groundsel?

Fresh A.
That don't sound nice!

Cook.
And then, for him who needs,
Have various plates of various kinds of seeds.

Fresh A.
Ah, there I don't agree with what you've said;
I really could'nt give a seedy spread.
Then as to wines, you know—what say you, Butler?

Butler.
Well, speaking as a well-experienced sutler,
There's nothing for young folks so good as water.

Fresh A.
What! at the marriage of my only daughter?
No! Robin loves on cherry-pie to dine;
Jenny, I know, adores sweet currant-wine.
Let currant-wine like water flow to hand,
And cherry-pie on every table stand!

[Cook and Butler bow and go off.
Enter Health, hurriedly.
Health.
Oh, fairy Fresh Air, here's such dreadful news!
All your enchantments you will have to use.

Fresh A.
Why what's the matter? tell me, in a breath!

Health.
Miasma has designed Cock Robin's death!
I overheard him in his filthy fen.
Three former lovers of poor Jenny Wren
Have undertaken it, at his suggestion.

Fresh Air.
And will they do it, think you?

Health.
That's the question.
To the conspirators I'm quite a stranger,
But Robin's life is in no little danger;—
I tried my utmost to avert his fate,
But cruel Miasma would not let me wait.
From his dank pestilential dell he thrust me!
If Robin's killed, you will revive him?

Fresh A.
Trust me!

DUET, Fresh Air, and Health.—Air, ‘Morning Leaves Waltz,’
Fresh A.
I'll do the very best I can,—
To save his life I'll try;
For all Miasma's wicked plan,
Cock-Robin shall not die!

Health.
But should Cock-Robin's life-blood stream,
Whatever will you do?

Fresh A.
I have a pleasant little plan,
Which I'll confide to you.
He must put off his Robin's shape,
Assuming that of man,
And so he'll easily escape
Miasma's evil ban.

Health.
Of such a plot he'll never dream!
I very clearly see
The sterling value of the scheme
Which you confide to me.

[Loud knocking, without.
Fresh A.
Who's he who knocks with such audacious touch?

A Fairy.
A guest, your Majesty.

Fresh A.
I guessed as much.

Enter Satana.
Satana.
Ah! how d'e do? I hope you're quite at leisure?

Fresh A.
A—let me see—a—have I had the pleasure—

Satana.
Of course not—no: allow me, pray—I am
The herald of the guests' arriving, ma'am;
Appointed, subject to your high behests,
M. C. in ordinary to your guests.

Enter the Guests, who are introduced, one by one, by Satana; the Cuckoo, the Raven, and the Sparrow, bring up the rear.—Then enter the Bride and Bridegroom, in a Car.
[After the Ballet, Cock-Robin and Jenny go up to be married.
Cuc.
[To Sparrow.]
This is our time, I think—eh, master Sparrow?

Spar.
All right; I'm ready with my bow and arrow!

[Cuckoo and Raven try to kiss Jenny.—Cock-Robin pecks at them to drive them off.—Sparrow, pretending to shoot at Cuckoo and Raven, kills Cock-Robin.—General consternation.—Three bad Birds taken into custody.
Fresh A.
[Indignantly.]
Who kill'd Cock-Robin?

First Fairy.
That wicked Sparrow,
With his bow and arrow,—
He kill'd Cock-Robin!

Fresh A.
Who saw him die?

Second Fairy.
This little Fly,
With his little eye,—
He saw him die!

Fresh A.
Who caught his blood?

Third Fairy.
This pretty Fish,
With his little dish,—
He caught his blood!

Fresh A.
Who'll make his shroud?

Fourth Fairy.
This jolly Beetle,
With his thread and needle,—
He'll make his shroud!

Fresh A.
Who'll dig his grave?

Fifth Fairy.
This solemn Owl,
With his spade and show'l,—
He'll dig his grave!

Fresh A.
Who'll be the Parson?

Sixth Fairy.
This grave old Rook,
With his little book,—
He'll be the Parson!

Fresh A.
Who'll be the Clerk?

Seventh Fairy.
This pretty Lark,
If it's not in the dark,—
He'll be the Clerk!

Fresh A.
Who'll carry him to the grave?

Eighth Fairy.
This soaring Kite,
If it's not in the night,—
He'll carry him to his grave!

Fresh A.
Who'll bear the link?

Ninth Fairy.
This pretty Linnet;
He'll fetch it this minute,—
He'll bear the link!

Fresh A.
Who'll be chief mourner?

Tenth Fairy.
This gentle Dove,
Who mourns for her love,—
She'll be chief mourner!

Fresh A.
Who'll sing a psalm?

Eleventh Fairy.
This warbling Thrush,
As he sits in a bush,—
He'll sing a psalm!

Fresh A.
Who'll toll the bell?

Twelfth Fairy.
This roaring Bull,
Because he can pull,—
He'll toll the bell!

[All the Birds and Beasts alluded to in the song proceed to undertake the various tasks allotted to them, the Bull tolling a bell, the Owl digging his grave, and so on.
Chorus.
All the birds of the air fell a sighing and sobbin',
When they heard the bell toll for the death of Cock-Robin.

Fresh A.
Raven and Cuckoo, Sparrow—in a breath,
We find you guilty of Cock-Robin's death!

Health.
You three bad birds shall be directly shot!

Satana.
I beg your pardon, miss, the birds shall not.
To change, all three, immediately prepare,
Into Great, Middle-sized, and Little Bear!

[The Three Birds change into three Bears.—General consternation, in the midst of which the scene closes.