 | The Discreet Princess ; or, the Three Glass Distaffs |  |
Scene Eighth.
—Gardens of the Palace by moonlight—Bank, alcove.Enter Prince Richcraft, enveloped in a mantle, carrying a scroll.
Rich.
After a long succession of short fits,
I have got back a small part of my wits;
Only again the lot well nigh to lose,
At hearing this extraordinary news!
My father has resigned his crown in favour
Of Belavoir; and that smooth-faced young shaver
Is going to be married to Finetta,
And so heal up the deadly old vendetta.
This is the fun fate's book was at me poking;
But fortune's wheel I still may put a spoke in.
I've hoaxed my brother with a billet-doux—
He thinks he's coming here to bill and coo;
And now, that upon horrors he may sup,
I'll act the ghost, before I give it up;
E'en such a ghost, so pale, so woe begone,
As I have seen another brother warn.
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The loss of mine, being all but inexpressible;
(throws off his mantle, and appears in his tights and white shirt, like the Ghost in “The Corsican Brothers”)
In this attire, upon him gently stealing,
I'll try to work on his fraternal feeling.
If I can but persuade the simple elf
To kill Finetta—he will kill himself.
Lo, where he comes, in mood the most romantic!
Now to look Corsican and Corsicantic!
(powders his face, then resuming his mantle steals behind a tree)
Enter Prince Belavoir.
Bel.
In a sweet note, than note of wood lark sweeter,
My love, by moonlight begged alone I'd meet her.
I thought she seemed something to have to say
Too tender to be told by light of day.
This is the spot—the centre of the grove;
There stands the oak, and there a snug alcove.
(Richcraft groans)
What sound was that? 'twas like some yawning grave
That teems with an untimely ghost; or cave
Through which winds squeeze, like courtiers at a levée;
No matter what: and yet my heart feels heavy.
(seats himself on a bank in front of the oak)
Music—Richcraft comes from behind the tree, as the ghost does in the last scene of “The Corsican Brothers,” and touches him on the shoulder.
Bel.
(starting up)
Kings, Queens, and Ministers in place defend us!
Be thou my brother, or a fiend they send us?
Bringing with thee an air from the Princess's,
In the most questionable of un-dresses.
I will speak to thee, ask thee, what's the matter?
Oh, answer me! and tell—who is your hatter?
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Say, why is this? wherefore do you do so?
Rich.
Mark me!
Bel.
I will, if you touch me again!
Rich.
Bully me not! I rise, sir, to explain.
I am thy brother's spirit! Pray desist
From asking questions, and list, list, oh list!
If ever thou didst thy dear brother love.
Bel.
I can't say you were over and above
Affectionate to me; but never mind,
You're dead, and I forgive you.
Rich.
Well that's kind.
Bel.
What can I do, pray, to oblige you further?
Rich.
Revenge my foul and most unnatural murther!
Bel.
Murther!
Rich.
The most unnatural ever seen.
Bel.
Haste me to know it then, that I, as clean
As a new broom, may sweep to my revenge.
Rich.
Swear!
Bel.
By my head!
Rich.
Swear harder!
Bel.
By Stonehenge!
Rich.
That's hard enough; now hear—'tis given out,
That slipping on a mountain here about,
I cracked my cranium; but that's rank abuse;
For know that she who cooked thy brother's goose
Would share thy crown.
Bel.
Oh, my prophetic soul!
Finetta!
Rich.
Aye, she gave me such a roll!
Oh, brother! what a falling off was there!
But soft! methinks I scent the morning air!
(music—piano)
So, as I always was—brief let me be!
Adieu! Adieu! Adieu! Remember, She!
(Exit Richcraft)
Bel.
Remember she! I wish I could forget her!
But I have sworn—and off I must not let her—
She's here! Confusion! I've forgot my dagger!
Back to my chamber for it, I must stagger!
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I'll take another oath—I won't outlive her!
(Exit Prince Belavoir)
Rich.
(who has peeped and listened)
Hurrah! The work goes bravely on! I've tricked him!
And here, in good time, comes the other victim!
(retires)
Enter Finetta.
Fin.
Some mischief's in the wind.—Some wicked folks
Have played upon my Belavoir a hoax.
I found a little note he dropped, inviting
Him to meet me here—but 'tis not my writing—
My mind misgives me! It is only Richcraft
Who could be up to anything like sich craft—
So for myself I've brought a substitute—
(goes to wing and returns with a milliner's doll's head and dummy figure, dressed like herself)
And trust once more to circumvent the brute!
Song—Finetta—Air, “Meet me by moonlight.”
Have played upon my Belavoir a hoax.
I found a little note he dropped, inviting
Him to meet me here—but 'tis not my writing—
My mind misgives me! It is only Richcraft
Who could be up to anything like sich craft—
So for myself I've brought a substitute—
(goes to wing and returns with a milliner's doll's head and dummy figure, dressed like herself)
And trust once more to circumvent the brute!
I'll meet him by moonlight alone,
And then I will tell him a tale
Of a tub, which I managed, I own,
To tumble down into the dale.
I must say, if Richcraft's not dead,
That he certainly ought to have been;
But no more on that—or this head,
Till the object more clearly I've seen,
Of this meeting by moonlight alone!
And then I will tell him a tale
Of a tub, which I managed, I own,
To tumble down into the dale.
I must say, if Richcraft's not dead,
That he certainly ought to have been;
But no more on that—or this head,
Till the object more clearly I've seen,
Of this meeting by moonlight alone!
Lie there, my double!
(placing figure on bank)
If there's aught to dread,
This plan must surely bring it to a head.
Meanwhile to foil my foe, and guard my love,
I'll bide the issue in this dark alcove.
If there's aught to dread,
This plan must surely bring it to a head.
Meanwhile to foil my foe, and guard my love,
I'll bide the issue in this dark alcove.
(hides in alcove)
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Bel.
What would make some men drunk, has made me bold!
I've drained a full pint of “Tom,” called “the old,”
And now I must fulfil the pint of honour!
Lo! Where she sleeps! I dare not look upon her!
(stabbing the doll, as he turns away his face)
Thus! thus! I keep my oath!
(Finetta screams)
O cruel brother!
Thou art avenged!
Rich.
(aside)
One's gone! Now for the other!
(retires)
Bel.
I swore I'd not survive her, and I won't!
Thus! thus! I follow thee! Eh! No I don't!
(looks at the dagger, which has changed into a bunch of roses)
What potent power my stern will opposes?
My dagger's changed into a bunch of roses!
Rich.
(advancing)
The deuce it is! And I have none to lend him!
Fin.
(entering)
And if you had, I'm here, sir, to defend him!
Bel.
Finetta living! Yet Finetta dead!
Fin.
I backed myself, and beat him by a head!
Mother Goose enters.
Mother G.
Yes, but there's few can beat me at a tale,
So I'll wind this up!
Fin.
I hope without fail!
(music—Mother Goose waves her crutch, and the scene changes to
| The Discreet Princess ; or, the Three Glass Distaffs | |