University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

—FROG POOL, IN THE MARSHES.
Hunting Music.—Cries of ‘Tallyho,’ &c.—'Squire enters, in hunting costume, &c.
'Squire.
Tallyheigho! where are you, great and small?
Tallyheigho! I've lost the fox and all.
I'll sing a song—there's nobody desires it,
But then the situation here requires it.
SONG, 'Squire.—Air, ‘Old Towler.’
Ah! it's no use! this shouting's all in vain;
And this eye—oh! sees nothing, once again.
Each step I take goes further in a bog—
Hollo! what's that? uncommon like a frog.
Frogs appear in succession.
And here another—and another, too—
Another still succeeds—stop, that will do.
Another yet—and, lo! a sixth appears—
I do begin to have un-'Squirelike fears;
I'm much afraid, since this dark place I'm brought to,
I haven't been so good, quite, as I ought to.
[Light appears.
Oh, dear! what lights are round about me flying?
To find the road back now, it's no use trying.
Why did I hunt at all? why, why endeavour—
I'm getting further in the slosh than ever.
Oh! here's a plight—I do repent me much—
I'm a great rascal, I've behaved as such.
I can't remember now one virtuous action;
I caught a vagrant, that's a satisfaction,
And put him in the cage—'twas justice nerved it;
But, then, I'm not quite sure that he deserved it.
Hollo! these frogs are climbing all about—
I'm in a pretty mess—who'll help me out?

Music.—Will-o'-the-Wisp appears.
Will.
I will, if you indeed repent your way?

'Squire.
I truly do—the one I took to-day.

Will.
I mean, if you are really and sincerely
Ashamed of all you have done?

'Squire.
I am, most clearly.
But tell me, please, to whom I am indebted
For asking me how much I have regretted?

Will.
I'll tell you in a song.

'Squire.
Ah! I tried singing;
I sung out loudly, but no aid 'twas bringing.

[Song, Will-o'-the-Wisp.—Composed by J. H. Tully.
I'm Will-o'-the-Wisp, who leads astray
Travellers, till they lose their way.
Wherever my light is seen, beware,
For danger then is lurking there.
Glancing dark eyes seem to be,
Harmless beams enough to see,
But under those long dark lashes lie
Will-o'-the-Wisp's own witchery.
I'm Will-o'-the-Wisp, who lures by night,
Mortals with my flickering light;
In every shape you see me come,
To lead the wanderer far from home.
But of all my forms, there's one I'll tell,
That never fails to serve me well,—
Beware the light of a love-lit eye,
It is Will-o'-the-Wisp's own witchery.

'Squire.
Will-o'-the-Wisp you are, then?

Will.
You are right.
I'm always seen about these fens at night.

'Squire.
I see—if fenny folks your aid require,
You come to light them home: that I admire.
In fact, I've come to add-mire at every movement.
Ad-miring you is really an improvement.

Will.
No jesting, sir; to get out of this bog
You'll have to be indebted to a dog.

'Squire.
At such a thing a man should not demur,
We never know what's going to a cur.

Will.
Come hither, lad!

[Whistles.
'Squire.
He seems to know his name.

Will.
It's Mother Hubbard's Dog—you've seen the same.

[At this intelligence the 'Squire is making off—he is met by the Dog.— Comic Business.—'Squire solicits pardon on his knees—Dog grants it, and blesses him.—Will-o'-the-Wisp beckons him away, and 'Squire is then led off by Dog, and followed by the Frogs.