University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

Scene I.

—Wizard alone in his room.
WIZARD.
For eighty years I studied magic lore;
I slaved in patience eighty years and more
To friendless age, from manhood bold and lusty,
Mid moths and mildew, skulls, and volumes musty.
Here do I live, in gloomy study housed,
A poor disciple of old Doctor Faust.
One night I watched o'er human joy and dole,
From the small skylight of my glory hole:
The woods and silver-sheeted Rhine I viewed,
When from his bosom rose the scaly brood
Of Sprites and Mermen, o'er the water popping,
And, in fantastic gambols, springing, flopping,
Diving, and splashing, till tormented Rhine
With foam and phosphorus seemed to splash and shine;
Then one white figure, all in white arrayed,
Swam right ashore, and for the forest made.
I marked her well, as was a wizard's duty.
She was a nymph of most surpassing beauty.
Even I could feel a soft emotion rise
At her gold clouds of hair and dreamy eyes.
Onward she went, like one that walked in slumber;
I breathed a spell, and named a magic number:
Some potent counter charm seemed to prevail,
For on she went—tho' moved and deadly pale.
The Baron's Castle, then, I saw her enter;
She'll make sad mischief, if I can't prevent her.
Old Faust, when powers of evil used to cross him,
Would open at the sign of “Macrocosm;”
Now, following his illustrious example,
I'll view the magic page, mouldy and ample.
[Opens the book.
A sound of rushing water meets my ear.
Ho! scaly spirit, at my call appear!

[Gobbet, a green Sprite, jumps out of the book.
GOBBET.
I come, good master. Ho! I come like winkin'.

WIZARD.
Most promptly done, my stern command now drink in.
Some time ago, upon a moonlight night,
Entered yon Castle, a fair Water Sprite.
My wonted skill was useless, I confess,
And soon, no doubt, she made a precious mess.

GOBBET.
Aye, aye, good sir; you mulled the business nicely.

WIZARD.
Long time I knew not what to say precisely.
She has inveigled from his late affection
The Fraulein's lover, of immense connection;
She loves the Sprite, and leaves the Baron's daughter,
And soon, I fear, she'll lure him to the water.

GOBBET.
A pretty story! What's your will, good master?

WIZARD.
Haste to the Castle—counteract disaster.
Promptly upon the Water Sprite attend;
But with sly acts the family befriend.

[Gobbet bows grotesquely and exit.

Scene II.

—The old Baron alone in his study.
BARON.
I'm in the grumps—but why, I cannot tell—
I'm very ill—I'm seriously unwell;
Though for domestic bliss by nature fitted,
Smacked by my wife, and by my daughter twitted.
But this new comer most provokes my gall;
This madcap stranger—who is she at all?
Some say it was at night—some say at noon
She just dropt in, as though dropt from the moon.
She takes her fling, and nothing is debarr'd her;
She rules the roast, and revels in the larder.
With choicest tit-bits keeps her wolfish maw full,
For 'twixt ourselves her appetite is awful;
She chokes my pipe, and laughs at my lumbago,
And rules the Frau, that notable virago!
[Frau sings within.
Hush! 'tis my wife, as grim as an inquisitor!
What saith the proverb, touching the Old Visitor?
Oh! that some opening trap-door would engulph her!
Here comes the old one!—what a smell of sulphur!

Enter Frau.
FRAU.
[Aside.]
I'll try the civil dodge—though scold I ought.
[Aloud.]
Well Baron, dear, a penny for your thought.

BARON.
It was not worth so much—I thought of you.

FRAU.
Your answer is amusing, and quite new.
Just now we can't afford to be so funny;
Pray think about your daughter and your money.

BARON.
My daughter and my ducats—stale old song.

FRAU.
Baron!

BARON.
Well, go-ahead! but don't be long.
Poor love-sick daughter; is she very bad?

FRAU.
Man! do you mean to drive me dancing mad?
All our misfortunes give you little pain,
Caused, every one, by your old fuddled brain.
That most outrageous minx again has crost
Our daughter's marriage prospects—all is lost!
Our wealthy suitor, poor Johanna jilts,
And with that vixen flirts, and talks on stilts,
And skips attendance on her, like a lacquey.
What! not a symptom of surprise?

BARON.
Oh! Cracky!

FRAU.
I'm in a fury!

BARON.
Take it easy, Frau.

FRAU.
Baron, I'll pull your nose, sir!

BARON.
Bow—wow—wow!

FRAU.
I can't believe my ears—whom bark you at?

BARON.
At you, my love!

FRAU.
Take that—and that—and that.

[Exit Frau, after boxing Baron's ears.
BARON
(alone).
My bark was vastly better than her bite;
If what she says is true, 'twill serve her right.
I'm always bilious after such a fray—
I'll go to sleep—and not awake to-day.
[Sings.

[Sleeps, and snores.
Thunder and lightning. Enter Rhine King.
BARON
(starting up).
Ho! all hands to the pump. Save—Oh! I'm sunk.
I'm either half-seas over—or I'm drunk!
Ho! buckets—brandy—bladders—anything!

RHINE KING.
Behold his Majesty the great Rhine King.
Bid us all hail!

BARON.
Hallo! All hail and thunder!
Who's this old water-spout, I greatly wonder?

RHINE KING.
I raised but now above the reedy Rhine
My watery stature, where for ages nine
I held mild reign—o'er regions soft and pleasant.

BARON.
Mild rain! my friend, you're raining hard at present.
Have you a chance of clearing? for, by Nemesis!
If you don't clear, I'll quickly clear the premises.

RHINE KING.
Peace, dotard, or I'll founder you with water.
I come to pay a visit to my daughter;
Where does she hold her state?

BARON.
Oh, goodness knows!
Don't you cascade upon my gouty toes.

RHINE KING.
About a month ago, or near that period,
My daughter left my halls, a green-haired Neriad,
And on a moonlight night your Castle sought.
Dost thou remember?

BARON.
Well, I think I ought.

RHINE KING.
So be it! How is my daughter thriving?
How didst thou entertain her on arriving?

BARON.
She helped herself to everything.

RHINE KING.
So best.
Nought is too good for such a noble guest.
Go fetch her: bid her wait on no pretences.

BARON.
My good fellow, are you in your senses?
Before I'd leave my chair to fetch your daughter,
I'd see you on the fire and changed to boiling water.

RHINE KING
(furious).
Insulted to my beard! But thou shalt quake—dog!
I'll change thy lands and castle to a shake-bog;
Thy halls shall lodge the loathsome bat and vile owl,
Thyself and Frau shall fly away like wild fowl.
Insulted to my beard so long and hoary!
Vanish instanter to a lower story.

Baron sinks (or drawn aside on his chair.) Enter Luralie, attended by Gobbet.
LURALIE.
Of common propriety have you no feeling?
You sent the old Baron right down through my ceiling.
I don't like your beard, nor your great glassy eyes,
And this visit has given me less joy than surprise.

GOBBET.
We're quite happy without you, and not the least lonely.

RHINE KING.
Peace, sea-pig; I'm speaking to Luralie only.
My crystal fountain, Luralie, thou art:
To see thee lifts the cockles of my heart.
Come back, come back, my Luralie, unto thy home of water,
My halls are sad and lone to me, my daughter, oh, my daughter!
Come back—come back!

LURALIE.
No, thank you, sir.

RHINE KING.
Come back, ma'am.

LURALIE.
Stay I'd rather.

RHINE KING.
Ye thunders, what a dreadful shame!
The girl disowns her father!

LURALIE.
I will not return, were you ever so fluent.

RHINE KING.
Thou art not in earnest, my dear little truant.

GOBBET.
Oh, yes! quite in earnest, old gentleman.

RHINE KING.
S'blud!
If you speak one word more, I'll dissolve you to mud.
[To Luralie.]
Canst thou leave thy old father alone to his sorrow?

LURALIE.
Oh, yes! you may coax me to-day and to-morrow.

RHINE KING.
Undutiful girl, 'tis thy father who calls:
He longs for thy voice in his desolate halls;
Each tide that returns his affection grows stronger.

LURALIE.
A very good reason to wait a while longer.

RHINE KING.
Unnatural daughter, my feelings I stifle:
I give thee one month more to wanton and trifle.
Till my sixtieth tide hath returned to the sea,
And the sign of the Fishes reflected shall be
On the blue-water roof of my palace below—
Till then, thou hast power to remain, or to go.

LURALIE.
And how is my pet, the large river trout?

RHINE KING.
Disconsolately he is swimming about.

LURALIE.
I hope you take care of my great sea-shell.

RHINE KING.
It is safe.

LURALIE.
And my pale river sisters?

RHINE KING.
Are well.
They wait for you here; you shall see them to-night,
In their fillets of rushes and garments of white.
With a wave of my wand I'll disclose in a jiffy,
Earth's loveliest river, excepting the Liffey.
[Scene opens: beautiful tableau of Rhine and Nymphs.
There's a mirror that's fit for the stars and the moon.
Come, girls, to old Rhine a sweet madrigal tune.

SONG—NYMPH CHORUS.
Joyfully carol we, joyfully carol we—
While Father Rhine rolls blithely along.
Merrily let it be—merrily let it be:
Light as his wave be our song.

RHINE KING.
Hush! Do you dare to disturb the gravity
Of the stern old Rhine with levity,
Ruffling his serene longevity? Daughter, chant it solemnly.

NYMPH CHORUS.
Solemnly—solemnly, mighty one, we chant it,
Mournfully let it be, magic tones incanted,
With thy hoary age condoling, turret crowned King for centuries rolling,
Moaning wide, thy plaintive tide, swelleth our chorus solemnly.

KING.
Farewell, my daughter, till the fatal day;
But pause not, when thy carriage stops the way.

[Exit all.

Scene III.

—A Room in the Castle. Luralie seated.
Enter Frau and Johanna.
JOHANNA.
Oh, mother, speak to her, you must implore her:
Just lay my melancholy case before her;
Tell her I know that half in sport 'tis done,
But say she's killing me, and all for fun.
Ask her the cause of the ill-will she bears me,
Say I will try to love her, if she spares me.

FRAU.
You know, my dear, it never was my weakness
To stoop to wrongs, or insolence, with meekness.
The fact, indeed, your silly father knows,
That creature has bewitched me, I suppose:
My tongue to do its duty quite refuses,
And at my fingers' ends my courage oozes.

LURALIE
(getting up).
What want you, Frau? Pray hasten, we're engaged.

FRAU.
Is she an Empress? Oh, I am enraged!
Ma'am, I must say your actions are most strange:
We hope your line of conduct you will change!
[Aside.]
I cannot scold her, there's no use in trying.

LURALIE.
I see you think me far too self-denying,
But at your kind request, so urgent really,
I shall indulge myself somewhat more freely.

FRAU.
I wish I could—

LURALIE.
Express for me your kindness.

JOHANNA.
Those who won't see, how hopeless is their blindness.

FRAU.
Don't you intend to take a nice excursion?
We should contribute much to your diversion.
You are not looking well. I wish you would;
'Twould brace your nerves, and do a deal of good.
Far up the Rhine, by steam and favouring tide.
Pray do; we'll furnish you with Wier's Guide.

LURALIE.
Good Frau, you never could get on without me;
I've such engaging little ways about me.
You dear old thing, that turban is so tasty—
Now just run down, and mind the ven'son pasty.
Come, such a bustling housewife I would make you.

FRAU.
Am I the mistress here? Oh, sorrow take you.
[Exit Frau.

LURALIE
(to Johanna.)
Well, Fraulein dear, I thought you would escort her.

JOHANNA.
If you had any heart, you'd give me quarter.
Dear Luralie, to my petition hearken,
And don't my little gleam of sunshine darken—
Don't treat a poor young creature in this fashion;
But give me back my lover in compassion.

LURALIE.
Pray what's all this about? you must be raving.
Is it my gay young bridegroom you are craving
You take him for a puppet; can I make you
A present of a youth, if he won't take you?

JOHANNA.
Don't be too sure, though little you suspect,
You may find out my hopes are not all wrecked.

LURALIE.
Soft then! We'll try. Your Zoeline you'll find
Somewhere about the study window blind:
Make up to him; I'll hie to the plantation,
While you engage in desperate flirtation.
But in the midst, when you shall be most tragic,
I'll softly sing an air of sweetest magic;
I lay you any wager that you'd wish
He'll leave you lonely, as a stranded fish.

JOHANNA.
Presumptuous girl! I lay you two to one,
Though not to betting given.

LURALIE.
Fair Fraulein, done!

[They shake hands.
JOHANNA.
Then I defy you, you may do your best.
I'll put my fortune to a final test.

[Exeunt L. and R.
Enter Frau and Zoeline different ways.
FRAU.
Good morning, sir.

ZOELINE.
Good Frau, I give you greeting.

FRAU.
Young gentleman, I long have sought this meeting.
Why don't you blush for shame?

ZOELINE.
Good Frau, in sooth,
I have not blushed, I fear, since tender youth.
You should be grateful; I have done my best
To do the honours to your beauteous guest.

FRAU.
How kind you are!

ZOELINE.
The favour do not mention.

FRAU.
How dare you pay that bold-faced thing attention
In my own house—under my very nose?

ZOELINE.
Well, under what's as red—under the rose.

FRAU.
Insolent puppy!

ZOELINE.
Frau, I am not deaf,
Your voice has reached a superhuman clef.
Here comes your daughter, at the row alarmed.

FRAU.
You'll see me soon again.

ZOELINE.
I shall be charmed.
[Enter Johanna and Elspeth.
The click-clack of that tongue is past enduring.
Oh, there's one voice so sweet and soul-alluring!

JOHANNA.
Dear Zoeline, I'm glad we've met again,
We havn't had a chat I don't know when.
Do you still care for me?

ZOELINE.
Yes, dear, you're right.
[Aside.]
I vow her walk is quite ungraceful! quite.

JOHANNA.
For months I've been so very sad and lonely,
A heart-disease, and you're the doctor only.

ZOELINE.
Yes, Luralie.

JOHANNA.
My name's Johanna, sir!
I wish you would not think so much of her.

ZOELINE.
Dearest Johanna! justly am I blamed.

JOHANNA.
If folks say true, you ought to be ashamed.
What do you see in that fresh-water shark?

ZOELINE.
Well, now, there is not much in that remark.
My Luralie some pretty speech had turned.

ELSPETH.
My mistress speaks. Where were your manners learned?

ZOELINE.
In looks they cannot be compared a minute,
A gay young nightingale, and poor green linnet.

ELSPETH.
My mistress speaks to you. Come, Master Dapper,
No matter who's your duck, I'm not your flapper.

ZOELINE.
Pardon, Johanna, pardon this abstraction.

JOHANNA.
Your meditations must have much attraction.
You were not so abstracted, sir, before.
I fear you think my company a bore.

ZOELINE.
Oh, not the least.
[A low voice is heard singing outside.
But stay—I beg your pardon—
Don't you hear someone singing in the garden?
I have a small appointment for a while.
[Aside.]
Ah! she's without my charmer's brilliant smile.

JOHANNA.
Meanwhile I'll go and sit alone and cry.

ZOELINE.
Aye, do—I mean—I'll see you by and by.
[Exit Zoeline.

JOHANNA.
'Tis hard a girl should break her heart at twenty.
Have you no comfort, Elspeth?

ELSPETH.
Madam, plenty.
He is a puppy, impudent, and snobbish.
How feel you, mistress dear?

JOHANNA.
Pretty bobbish.

ELSPETH.
Don't take on so; how pitiful you talk.
If I'd my will, Miss Luralie should walk.
I'd rather play the poor fool in the middle,
Than in my father's house play second fiddle.
To call her pretty: 'tis a public scandal;
Why, ma'am, to you she couldn't hold a candle.

JOHANNA.
Why, yes, I must confess her eyes are fishy.

ELSPETH.
And her complexion, oh! so washy-wishy.

Enter Luralie.
LURALIE.
My pretty Jezebel, what's that you said?

JOHANNA.
Come, Elspeth, not a word; we'll cut her dead.

LURALIE.
So sits the wind, how angrily you mutter,
You must have quarrelled with your bread and butter.
On such a lovely day, why look so cloudy?
Has Frau Mamma been scolding,—the old dowdy?
Come, Fraulein, here's my hand—forget all wrongs.

ELSPETH.
We wouldn't touch it with a pair of tongs.

JOHANNA.
Oh, Elspeth, don't;—I bear her no ill-will,
Though you have ruined all my prospects,—still.

[She shakes hands with Luralie.
LURALIE.
Pray, Fraulein, can I help my own attraction?
Why these reproaches? Can't you take an action?
Some damages you might recover from us,
If you make out a case of breach of promise.
But don't blame me—what mischief have I done?
You tried to win him,—swimmingly I won.
To view it in a piscatorial light,
I angled for him, and he took the bite.
Safe in my meshes lies your brave knight-errant,
While your slack lines are drifting in the current.
[Sings to the air of “Gin a body meet a body.”

JOHANNA
sings.

[Exeunt L. and R.

Scene IV.

—The outside of the Castle; Wilhelm serenading with a fiddle.
WILHELM.
This is her window. All are still as mice.
How beautiful is Elspeth—yea, how nice!
And, oh! her dimples, when they slyly come,
Dear heart, they are enough to strike one dumb.
In our short petticoats we were attached,
And once I blubbered when her nose was scratched.
I gave her all my gingerbread and candy,
And one small lock of hair, so nice and sandy;
But now she's been admired, and gone to service,
She laughs at me, and makes me very nervous.
In music, now, I'll tenderly upbraid her,
And if my nerves permit I'll serenade her.
This fiddle once, I'm told, I fingered neatly,
And it discourses music—very sweetly.
[Wilhelm sings; air, “Summer Night” (Don Pasquale.)

[Wilhelm hides.
BARON.
Bless me! I've always heard the place was haunted!
Such frightful howling—not that I am daunted.
[Comes out on the stage.
Some shocking stories I can recollect.
'Tis right we should be very circumspect;
No doubt strange characters are now about,
Such as my bumptious friend, Old Water-spout;
And when such ugly customers are going,
Who may pop in upon us there's no knowing.
Hush!—hist! What voice was that? What sudden shade
Popped out behind me? Bless me! Who's afraid?
[Sees Wilhelm going off.
Hullo! you thief! your swallow-tails I'll riddle.
Here's a nice concert of a cat and fiddle.
Ah! now I see it all—a pretty frolic.
Bless me! the fright has given me the colic.
Donner und blitzen! But he got a fright:
He'll scarcely be in tune again to-night;
I'll have a drop to warm my good old nose.
Oh, my lumbago! Oh, my gouty toes!

[Baron goes into the house; Wilhelm comes back.
WILHELM.
Alas! I'm in a tremble. It was frightful;
And I was singing to her quite delightful!
Perhaps 'twas fancy, only superstition,
That hideous, wrinkled, bloated apparition.
Oh, Elspeth! what I ventured for your sake!
My gentle fiddle shall once more awake.

[Wilhelm sings; air, “Buy a Broom.”
I've come here to-night, dear, in pitiful plight, dear,
Through danger and fright, dear, a singing to you.

Elspeth
appears at the window and sings.
I'm sick of enduring your vile troubadouring,
You don't look alluring. Poor sweetheart, adieu!
Good-bye now.

WILHELM.
Don't fly now.

ELSPETH.
Good-bye now.

WILHELM.
Don't fly now.

ELSPETH.
(Duet.)
The household you'll waken. Poor sweetheart, adieu.

WILHELM.
(Duet.)
Don't leave me forsaken, a singing to you.
Still fiddling I'll keep, dear; I'll sing you to sleep, dear;
Till morning does peep, dear, I'll sing and I'll sigh.

ELSPETH.
Your sighs are no use, sir; you're not worth abuse, sir.
Now, don't be a goose, sir. Poor sweetheart, good-bye.
Good-bye now.

WILHELM.
Don't fly now.

ELSPETH.
Good-bye now.

WILHELM.
Don't fly now.

ELSPETH.
(Duet.)
The household you'll waken. Poor sweetheart, adieu.

WILHELM.
(Duet.)
Don't leave me forsaken, a singing to you.

[Elspeth disappears; the door opens. Wilhelm rushes into the Baron's arms.
BARON.
Come, sir, give me up your fiddle, you made such a horrible rout
You've given my wife the night-mare, and aggravated my gout.

Enter Frau.
FRAU.
Good gracious me! why, Baron, what means this outlandish row?
Come, wretch, give up your fiddle: I dreamed they were killing the sow.

WILHELM.
I can't give up my fiddle. Oh, pardon, good woman, I beg.

FRAU.
Yourself, young man, and your fiddle we'll certainly lower a peg.

BARON.
Begone, rash youth, forswear these mad night capers:
Take your old fiddle, and take to your scrapers.

FRAU.
And if you can't resist your tuneful failing,
You must reserve your music for the railing.

[Exeunt L. and R.

Scene V.

—A Room in the Castle. Enter Johanna and Elspeth.
JOHANNA.
Quick! Father wants his lunch—draw in the table;
Make all as comfortable as we're able.
Here is his meerschaum; place his gruel here—
'Tis good for gout. Oh, hide that jug of beer,
And then, perhaps, he'd like to take a light nap;
Shake up his pillow—where's his gown and night-cap?
We'll sit with him, it will prevent me fretting.

ELSPETH.
You'll spoil him, ma'am, you'll ruin him with petting.

JOHANNA.
To please my father, could I do too much?

ELSPETH.
He comes! hark to the bumping of his crutch.

Enter Baron.
JOHANNA.
Well, father dear, are you complaining still?

BARON.
Tut! child, I'm very cross and very ill—
I'm off my oats.

ELSPETH.
This petulance give over;
You're off your oats because you live in clover.
Here is your luncheon, sir.

JOHANNA.
Elspeth, be quiet!

BARON.
What trash is that? What meagre prison diet?

JOHANNA.
'Tis some nice gruel, father.

BARON.
Throw it out!

JOHANNA.
I only thought 'twas very good for gout.
What would you wish, sir?

BARON.
I intend to lunch
On devil'd kidneys and on brandy punch.
They'd have me waste away on bread and water.

ELSPETH.
Fie! You're a pretty man to have a daughter.

JOHANNA.
Oh! ever thus from childhood was my fate!
I don't know how I earned my father's hate.

BARON
(melting).
I melt to tears. Poor goose! she looks so mild.
Come here, my eldest-born and only child.

JOHANNA.
Dear Sir! I did my best to make you snug.

BARON.
You did, my offspring. Come, a filial hug.
Bless you, my child, my little nurse you'll be.
Sit on your cross old daddy's gouty knee;
For though his aggravations are not small,
He's not so bad a fellow after all.

Enter Frau.
FRAU.
I've caught them at their sentimental chatter.

BARON.
Well, woman, well! you've caught us, and what matter?

FRAU.
I am not dreaming of you, old Stupidity.
The time is come, we'll seize it with avidity.
I've caught the gallant and that minx together,
Enjoying quietly the summer weather;
Walking there quietly, above all dodging,
As if they had a right to board and lodging.
Give me your arm, old man, till you behold her—
She'd feast on us, indeed.

BARON.
We'll give her the cold shoulder.

[He hobbles out on Frau's arm.
JOHANNA.
Come, Elspeth, quick! we'll steal off softly now.

ELSPETH.
I go, although I'd like to see the row.

[Exeunt.
Enter Zoeline and Luralie, dogged by Baron and Frau.
FRAU.
There's impudence! Come, dear, just turn them out.
Quick! Baron!—be decisive.

BARON.
Oh my gout!

FRAU.
Why, Baron dear, I think you must be drunk.

BARON.
No, Frau, my darling, only in a funk.

FRAU.
Just have their luggage rolled off to the coach.

BARON.
That might be deemed a truc-ulent reproach.

FRAU.
My mouth is shut when I should furious be.

BARON.
I wish 'twas lock-jaw, and I had the key.

FRAU.
I really don't know how I was outwitted,
But when 'twas I myself her stay permitted,
I can't go back.

BARON.
You ought to be a dab
At going back, like any sour old crab.

FRAU
(patting him on the shoulder).
Baron! be at them like a dear old fellow.

BARON.
She's licking me—the cobra di capello.

FRAU.
Be at them! See, they're looking at us now!

GOBBET
(starting out).
Harroose, old Baron; Hi! Harroose, old Frau!

[Gobbet hunts out Baron and Frau.
ZOELINE.
Dear Luralie, thus twine our hands together;
Water or earth shall have no power to sever
This hand from mine.

LURALIE.
Water! Art thou in earnest?
I fear thou'lt waver when the truth thou learnest.
Yet I would question thee.

ZOELINE.
Come, love, begin.

LURALIE.
You're webbed, of course, and have a dorsal fin.

ZOELINE.
Yes—and a little tail that's scarcely grown.

LURALIE.
Well, sir, you swim, of course, like any—

ZOELINE.
Stone!

LURALIE.
Pray can you dive when wind and wave are driving?

ZOELINE.
Out of my depth my tendency is diving,
Though from a child I've lived a dip detesting.

LURALIE.
Ah, Zoeline! do stop this dreadful jesting,
Now, should you wed the Rhine King's beauteous daughter,
How long, perhaps, could you stay under water—
Beneath the lovely Rhine, now, were you in it?

ZOELINE.
Well, let me see—suppose we say a minute.

LURALIE.
No longer?

ZOELINE.
Well, I shouldn't mind the soaking.
But I'm peculiarly averse to choking.
What's this? In tears! Your meaning I would construe.

LURALIE.
But I will weep! Don't comfort me, you monster.
'Tis little that you care about my wishes,
And won't come down to see the pretty fishes.
[Sings; air, “Come to my gipsy home.”

ZOELINE
(much moved).
I yield, I go; these words my soul environ;
I rush to take the fatal plunge, my Siren;
The Rhine King beckons us with osier truncheon.
I go—but first I think we'll order luncheon.
Ho! Gobbet!

GOBBET.
Here, sir.

ZOELINE.
I was near forgetting
We'd want a stimulant before the wetting.

[Gobbet brings wine.
ZOELINE.
Here's good old Rhenish, and no flavour finer:
A goblet fill up.

GOBBET.
In a fillup, Mein Herr.

ZOELINE.
Stay, for your mistress first a goblet fill.

LURALIE.
Pure water be it, and about a gill.
To-morrow evening, when the moon is up,
You'll find a magic ring within this cup;
Then, if you really love me, do not linger,
But place the ring upon your marriage finger,
And hasten to the shore, where rustling sedges
And tiny ripples glance with silver edges;
Where reeds and osiers in the breeze are swinging,
You'll find me combing my long hair, and singing.
But first,—anoint your body with this ointment;
'Twill make you water-proof,—keep your appointment.

ZOELINE.
Farewell! my ardent love at nothing quails.

[Exit Luralie.
GOBBET.
That stuff will make him all break out in scales.

ZOELINE
sings.
Yes, I believe thee, whate'er may betide me;
Thy music is round me, its cadence shall guide me;
I'll sleep, and thy form shall be kneeling beside me,
My cold hand be clasping in thine.
Thus let me sleep—ah! how calmly reclining,
As o'er me the stars from thy soft lids keep shining,
For ever, for ever in lonely endeavour
To lighten the darkness of mine.