University of Virginia Library

Scene Fourth.

—The Ogre's only Servant's Hall—Cellar door at back—Prince and Amy discovered seated beside the fire.
Amy.
Another chestnut, love?

Prince.
No,—not one more,
I had a wet, before I came ashore;
Since then my appetite has fast been fleeting;
I think of being eaten, more than eating!

Amy.
Fear nothing; in yon cellar you shall sleep,
The firewood there 'neath lock and key I keep,
And when the family a hunting fare,
I'll let you out, to take a little air!

Prince.
A pleasant future fate for me has hoarded,
In a wood cellar to be lodged and boarded.
Oh! what an endless source of quips and quillets,
A soldier billeted upon the billets!
A lover seeking out the softest too,
That he may sleep upon a billet doux!
A sailor, whom from drowning, Fortune snatches,
To keep a log for ever under hatches.
No! sooner than among these faggots fix,
Let us at once resolve to cut our sticks!

Amy.
There's no escaping from these horrid brutes—
Ravagio has a pair of seven-leagued boots,
He'd soon look over both our naked noses;
That's why the railroad here he so opposes;
For, if on hear-say I may place reliance,
The shoes of swiftness now are worn by science;
And once the march of intellect beginning,
No seven-leagued boots will have a chance of winning.

Prince.
Hence, babbling fears! begone, ye base alarms!
Since legs cannot befriend us, let's try arms!
Have you no weapons but your bow and arrows—
Will they shoot nothing except apes and sparrows?
The Ogres slain, our lives are both secured!

Amy.
You can't kill them—their lives are all ensured;
From mortal weapons they have nought to fear.

Prince.
You make me feel particularly queer;
On what a dreadful coast has fortune toss'd us.

Rav.
(without)
Slave!

Amy.
Master's voice!

Prince.
The Devil and Dr. Faustus!

Amy.
Into the cellar, quick!

Prince.
One moment, dear.
Are you quite sure you've no black beetles here?

Amy.
How can you stop to ask at such a minute?

Prince.
Well, if there's one—by Jove! I can't stay in it!

Amy.
(pushing him into cellar and locking door)
But just in time! They're both coming downstairs.
I'm so alarm'd—I feel at my last prayers!

Enter Ravagio and Tourmentine.
Rav.
Why, how now, slave? didn't you hear me call?

Amy.
Call, sir?

Rav.
Aye, girl,—as loud as I could bawl.
Were you asleep?

Amy.
(aside)
A good excuse. (aloud)
Methinks
I was indeed just taking forty winks.

Rav.
Well, well—no matter—we're not angry, child.

Amy.
(aside)
Child! sure the monster's growing monstrous mild.
What's in the wind? it bodes no good, I fear.

Rav.
Your mistress wants to speak to you, my dear.

Tour.
Come hither, wench—you know the obligation
You're under to us for your preservation?

Amy.
Yes, madam, and with gratitude I view it;
You might have ate me, and you didn't do it.

Tour.
I don't allude to that—for then in truth,
You were so small—you'd not have filled a tooth
Put out to sea—by whom is still a query—
The waves had rocked your cradle, till quite weary
They left it on the rock—whence, to speak freely,
We brought it down, and brought you up genteelly.
As you grew older, plump as any chicken,
We often fancied you'd be pretty picking;
But conscientiously forebore to cook you,
And only into our own service took you.
But now you are a woman grown—

Amy.
Oh dear!
You wouldn't eat me now?

Rav.
No, no, don't fear—
We wish to see you settled well in life,
And mean to make you of our son the wife.

Amy.
The wife of Croquemitain! O! rather make me
Into a pie, and for your dinner bake me!
Or living, tear my tender limbs asunder—

Rav.
Odds!—blood and bones!—what's here to do, I wonder?
Rebellious baggage, are you drunk or mad?

Tour.
Reject my pretty Croky—

Rav.
Come here, lad!
(Enter Croquemitain with surveying instruments, &c.)
D'ye see that girl?

Cro.
Yes; she's a lovely cretur'!

Rav.
Say, would you rather marry her, or eat her?

Cro.
Oh, marry her, by all means, pa, I say;
Then I can eat her, you know, any day—

Amy.
(aside)
The little monster!

Rav.
Ha, ha! so you can.
That's what it is to be an Ogre, man!
(to Amy)
So settle your fine joints—for by my fay,
To-morrow, minx, shall be your wedding day!

Amy.
(aside)
Oh, never shall the sun that morrow see!

Cro.
Sweet wife that is to be, give me the key
Of yonder cave—I'll stow this stuff away.

Amy.
The key! (aside)
O crimini!—what shall I say?
(aloud)
The key—I know not—somewhere on the shelf;
I'll stow the things away—to-night, myself.

Rav.
Aye, aye, 'tis late—to bed—to bed, boy—come.

Cro.
Stop! father! mother!—

Tour.
Wherefore?

Cro.
(sniffing)
Fee! Fo! Fum!

Rav.
Why, Croquemitain, what are you doing there?

Cro.
I smell fresh meat!

Rav.
The deuce you do, lad! where?

Cro.
In the wood cellar!

(a noise of logs falling)
Tour.
Hark! what noise was that?

Rav.
Something knocked something down!

Amy.
'Tis but the cat!

Tour.
The cat! don't tell me, that's the old resource,
Whatever happens, 'tis the cat of course.
The key! ha! here it is—

(snatches it from Amy's girdle, unlocks door, and enters cellar)
Amy.
(aside)
Malicious hag!
I see she'll let the cat out of the bag.

Tour.
(within)
Here! help! I've caught the cat—

Croquemitain runs into cellar, and re-enters with Tourmentine, dragging in the Prince)
Cro.
A tom cat, see!

Rav.
A bouncer, too!

Prince.
(aside)
Here's a catastrophe!

Amy.
(aside)
My budding hopes are torn up by the roots!

Rav.
So I perceive, sir—you are Puss in Boots!

Tour.
What business have you in my servant's hall?

Prince.
I feel, ma'am, I've no business here at all!

Rav.
Are you an engineer, or a surveyor?

Tour.
A chimney-sweeper, or a strolling player?

Rav.
An area sneak, my larder who'd invade?

Tour.
Or a policeman come to court the maid?

Prince.
Briefly, good friends, I'm neither one nor t'other,
But simply a poor Prince—

Cro.
A Prince! O mother!

Prince.
By a huge wave, whilst upon deck he dangled,
Washed overboard to be—rough-dried and mangled!

Rav.
A Prince! a dish fit for a king! why, wife!
I never ate a prince in all my life!
Jugged, he would make delicious food, I warrant,
Only imagine a jugged heir apparent!

Tour.
Poh! you might like a peasant far the best,
So much depends on how a man is drest!

Cro.
Papa! let's keep him for my wedding dinner!

Prince.
(aside)
I'll choke 'em every one as I'm a sinner!

Rav.
Good! in the safe to-night he must be shut up.

Prince.
I feel already most completely cut up!
O, great King Block, my sire! good afternoon;
Your chip will be a chip in porridge soon!

Concerted Piece.
Quartette—Prince, Amy, Ravagio, and Croquemitain—“If true his tale”—“Daughter of St. Mark.”
Rav., Cro.
Pay to his/my tale attention all
In love with servant maids who fall;

Prince.
Of area steps the safety doubt,
And don't walk in though “Master's out.”

Amy.
Pay to my tale attention all
Ye servant maids in love who fall;
Don't bring young men the house about,
But wait till it's your Sunday out.

(they put him into cellar again)
Rav.
Go to bed, wife, and you too, boy. I'll stay,
And watch beside the fire till break o' day.

Tour.
Aye, husband, do—and mind the fire you keep in,
(to Amy)
Slave! where are the gold crowns we always sleep in?

Amy.
Upon your pillows, ready for your heads;
I put them there when I turned down the beds.

Tour.
(to Croquemitain)
So, good night, darling.
(Exit Tourmentine)

Cro.
Good night—and d'ye hear,
“If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear.”
(Exit Croquemitain)

Rav.
(to Amy)
You begone, too! stop—reach me down my book.

Amy.
This, sir?

Rav.
Yes— (reads title)
“Every Ogre his own cook.”
Full of receipts for hashes—roasts—and minces;
I want to see what's the best sauce for princes.

Amy.
(aside)
To set my lover free, I'll rack my brains!
(Exit Amy)

Rav.
Here's a rare dish—“An alderman in chains!”
(reads)
“Take a fat alderman, not past the chair,
They're not so tender when they've once been Mayor;
Stuff him with turtle well below the waist,
And garnish him with gold chain to your taste,
Then let him stand in Guildhall till he's cool”
What next? Oh, “How to make fine gooseberry fool!”
“Take a green-horn, whom fortune has heaped cash on,
And mix him with the cream of London fashion,
Stir him well round till drained of every penny,
And he will make as good a fool as any!”
“Scotch Collops”—something very economical—
“First catch your Scotchman,”—humph! that's rather comical;
The way's to take him as he comes—'tis plain—
You'll never catch him going back again.

Re-enter Amy, unseen by Ravagio.
Amy.
(aside)
I have bethought me of a little wand
Which mistress prizes all things else beyond,
And fingers on it have contrived to lay;
It was a fairy's once I've heard her say.
The Fairy Trufio! ah! that's the name
Of the great personage from whom it came;
But how to use it, hang me if I know!—
O potent Fairy! mighty Trufio!
I wish that brute were fast asleep, (music)
that I
The virtue of thy magic stick might try!

Rav.
Holloa! my eyes I can scarce open keep;
Reading by firelight draws one so to sleep!

(drops books and falls asleep)
Amy.
Bless me! he is asleep! how very odd!
Why this must surely be a wishing rod—
Oh, if it should! ye gods and little fishes!
Think of a woman getting all her wishes!
I'll wish again—heyday! the stick is shorter
Than it appeared before—by a full quarter!
Prudence! if my desires do not keep slow time,
I shall wish all my stick away, in no time!
Of my first wish, first, let me make the most.
(opens door of cellar)
Where are you, love?

Prince.
(bound to a log of wood)
Here, fastened to a post.

Amy.
(releases him)
Let us post hence—for, betwixt you and me,
And that post, I've a secret for you—see!

Prince.
The Ogre fast asleep! but flight is fruitless,
His seven-leagued boots will make our efforts bootless.

Amy.
They would, but for this charming little wishing rod.

Prince.
I took it for a portion of a fishing rod.
How can this help us?

(examining it)
Amy.
Whatsoe'er you lack,
Wish for it, and you'll have it in a crack.

Prince.
Indeed! then wherefore stay to make a doubt of it
In this black hole—I wish that we were out of it.