University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—A Room in the Castle. Luralie alone.
LURALIE.
My summer holidays are nearly over:
I've roved enough to love to be a rover;
But I have won him, and before I go
Must suit him to our water home below.
That ointment, deadly to all water vermin,
Will change my lover to a gallant merman,
With webs and scales, and horny, lizard tail,
So curled and green—a lovely coat of mail.
This ugly crisis keeps me in the fidgets.
How will he feel with webs between his digits?
Will scales and lizard tail appear alarming?
Will he be shocked at what I think so charming?
This morning I was mischievous and merry;
My heart danced lightly, like a trim-built wherry;
But now a cloud so black, it makes me shiver,
Comes flitting o'er my bosom's sunny river,
As in a magic crystal I can see
Some hurricane approach. Ah! woe is me!

Enter Wizard disguised as a beggar.
WIZARD.
I am uncertain how I shall accost her.

LURALIE.
I know you well, you funny old impostor.

WIZARD.
Fair one, mistaken you might chance to be.

LURALIE
(mimicking him).
Nay, never wag your goatish beard at me.

WIZARD.
Madam, you're merry, but I know you not.
The merest chance has brought me to this spot;
A poor old beggar, spent with hunger's qualms,
Who likes a joke, but far prefers an alms.

LURALIE.
I see, and so by merest chance you came;
Perhaps you'd make your exit by the same.

WIZARD.
Then be it so. On purpose I am here.
It seems thou knowest me,—thou shalt learn to fear.
Would'st thou illude the Wizard's piercing sight?
At this dread sign unmask thee, Water Sprite!

[Waves his wand—throws off his disguise.
LURALIE.
Dear, picturesque old creature, don't be furious!
Oh, what a lovely beard! so soft and curious;
'Twould be such fun in two great rolls to plait it,
A waterfall of beard!—now might I pat it?

[She strokes Wizard's beard.
WIZARD.
No siren art my settled purpose staggers.

LURALIE.
There is no need, dear sir, of looking daggers.

WIZARD.
Spirit, attend! Unbending I proceed.

LURALIE.
Are you so stern and pitiless indeed?

WIZARD.
If I relax my brow at your contrition,
Charge it to pity, not to indecision.
Long hast thou fooled it, all my magic scorning.
Ere you proceed, accept a solemn warning:
If on yon youth thou shalt exert thy malice
To lure him to thy father's fatal palace,
Enchanting him with thy allurements hollow,
I tell thee, nymph, dread punishment shall follow.
'Tis writ within my volume's clasped pages—
Eternal anguish, or a sleep for ages;
But to induce thee to withdraw thy charms
To thy late home, and to thy father's arms,
The sparry vaulted caves thou shalt behold,
See on yon mists the magic scene unrolled.
[Tableau of Luralie's home. Solemn music.
So, fade!—Take care;—thou'rt warned, howe'er it be.
Adieu—adieu—adieu! Remember me!

[Exeunt L. and R.
Enter Johanna and Elspeth.
JOHANNA.
I'm sick of sighing, broken-hearted nearly.
He surely treats me very cavalierly.
[Hands Elspeth a dagger.
Just take this dagger;—To my bosom's centre
Strike home, dear Elspeth, till the daylight enter!

ELSPETH.
The daylight enter!—Mistress, you're insane!
Remember daylight enters through a pain.
We'll first kill time, dear mistress, if we can.
Here comes my sweetheart! Such a funny man.
[Enter Wilhelm.
You come, young man, as usual in the flurries,
A teazing cur.

JOHANNA.
Oh! you're the lamb he worries.

WILHELM.
I am offended by such cruel dealings;
In fact, I'm overpowered with my feelings.
Sweet girl, we'd live together very snugly
If you would have me.

ELSPETH.
Why, you are so ugly!

WILHELM.
I know my face is—

ELSPETH.
Like a buttered muffin.

WILHELM.
I know I am a goose.

[Sighs audibly.
ELSPETH.
You seem to be a puffin.

WILHELM.
Of a small house I have a lease for life.
Oh, be my husband; let me be your wife.
Two cows do browse an acre and a half.

ELSPETH.
And of which cow are you the happy calf?

WILHELM
(to Johanna).
Do, pretty, sweet young woman, help me if you can.

JOHANNA.
Oh, take him, Elspeth, such a nice young man.
A lovely Roman nose and larking eye,
And I am sure he's nearly six feet high.

WILHELM
sings; air, “Mary Blane.”

ELSPETH
sings; air, “Trab, trab.”

[Exeunt.
Enter Zoeline with a glass, applying ointment to his face.
ZOELINE.
Now I am water-proof. My fears I can't o'ermaster,
I feel all over like a mild pitch plaster.
What am I tempted to? Yet I can't doubt her,
'Tis my disease that I can't live without her.
I would be cured—this step is dangerous, sure,
And oft is fatal—the cold-water cure.
[Looks at a pocket glass.
I'm glad to see my face, it does not soil.
Pah! it savours strongly of cod's liver oil.
I need not rub my eyebrows, I suppose.
Now for my chin; now I'll touch up my nose.

Enter Johanna.
JOHANNA.
Well, Zoeline, to you I am most grateful,
I'm rid of that strange girl, so cold and hateful;
She went this morning to the Rhine, they say,
And brought her robes and ornaments away.
I know this happy change to you is owing—
What are you doing? Whither are you going?

ZOELINE.
To marry Luralie. Ha, ha! excuse this laughter;
I thought you'd like to throw the slipper after.
Now don't expostulate—no use in sorrow;
I'm sworn to marry Luralie to-morrow.

JOHANNA
sings.
Faithless, faithless, I was once your idol:
One short month would have dawned upon our bridal;
But before that time was over,
Zoeline, Zoeline, you left me for another.

ZOELINE
sings.
Ah! poor girl, 'tis most distressing,
Most sincerely I deplore
That, you're charming still confessing,
Other charms must I adore.

[Johanna and Zoeline sing together.
JOHANNA.
Zoeline, oh, Zoeline,
I love none but thee, Zoeline;
No other claims one thought of mine.
I love none but thee Zoeline.

ZOELINE.
Luralie, oh, Luralie,
I love none but thee, Luralie;
No other can I hear or see.
I love none but thee, Luralie.

JOHANNA
sings.
Think of the Baron's broken-hearted daughter,
Think of the plunge in the cold and sullen water.
May it haunt you—may it daunt you,
Zoeline—Zoeline—traitor and deceiver!

[Exit.