 | The Prince of Happy Land ; or, The Fawn in the Fores |  |
203
Scene Third.
—The Forest.Enter Floretta.
Flor.
Was ever a poor female so afflicted?
At daybreak, as the Fairy had predicted,
Her Serene Highness bounded out of bed,
Once more a poor unhappy quadruped!
Skipped upon four legs all the room about—
Scratched at the door with one, to be let out—
And when I wouldn't, lifted up the latch
With her own nose, and jump'd clean o'er the hatch!
This way she ran—but it's no use my following—
I'm downright hoarse with whooping and with holloing.
Air—Floretta—“The Gipsy Tent.”
At daybreak, as the Fairy had predicted,
Her Serene Highness bounded out of bed,
Once more a poor unhappy quadruped!
Skipped upon four legs all the room about—
Scratched at the door with one, to be let out—
And when I wouldn't, lifted up the latch
With her own nose, and jump'd clean o'er the hatch!
This way she ran—but it's no use my following—
I'm downright hoarse with whooping and with holloing.
Beating about the bush,
Wildly I go—
Through the brush wood I brush
After my doe!
Some cruel bow may have
Aimed at her breast.
Some Richard Roe may have
Caused her arrest!
Beating about the bush, &c.
Down run like rain dear,
My tears from each eye,
Hunting in vain dear,
I go in full cry!
Beating about the bush, &c
(looking off)
Wildly I go—
Through the brush wood I brush
After my doe!
Some cruel bow may have
Aimed at her breast.
Some Richard Roe may have
Caused her arrest!
Beating about the bush, &c.
Down run like rain dear,
My tears from each eye,
Hunting in vain dear,
I go in full cry!
Beating about the bush, &c
Footsteps!—a young man running through the wood.
What game's he after?—I'll be sworn no good.
I vow the horrid monster's got a bow!
Enter Prince Felix, with bow and arrow.
Prince.
Have you seen a white deer, ma'am?
Flor.
Dear sir, no!
Prince.
Did not one pass this way? a doe—a hind—
A fawn—a—
204
No, sir, nothing of the kind.
(aside)
He has been hunting her!—I must invent
Some story, which may put him off the scent.
Prince.
Provoking! 'twas the prettiest little thing!
I found it drinking at yon crystal spring;
At sight of me it started—stood at gaze
An instant—then in many pretty ways
Expressed—it really seemed—joy at our meeting
But still as I advanced, it kept retreating,
Until perceiving me about to fling
Around its neck this little silken string,
It cleared the bushes at a bound, and flew
Like lightning from me!
Flor.
Very proper too.
Prince.
Proper! I took my bow—
Flor.
You didn't shoot?
Prince.
I didn't mean, of course, to kill the brute.
Flor.
The brute!
Prince.
If not a brute, what should it be?
Flor.
If you have killed her, you're the brute, not she.
Prince.
Civil, I vow—but moderate your ire,
And hear my story out—I didn't fire;
She was too quick for me, and in the brake
Had vanished ere a sure aim I could take.
Flor.
A sure aim! Why, then, there! you own you would
Have killed the poor dear creature, if you could.
Prince.
You silly woman, I have told you no.
I am a crack shot both with gun and bow;
And if I get a chance again, you'll see
I'll pin it, through one ear, against a tree,
And so catch it alive.
Flor.
Let me catch you
At such a trick; you'll catch it if I do.
Duo—Prince and Floretta.
Air—“In son ricco.”
Prince.
I shall not stand upon trifles,
To secure that fawn so white,
I am a captain in the Rifles,
And a crack Toxopholite!
To secure that fawn so white,
I am a captain in the Rifles,
And a crack Toxopholite!
205
You may crack about your shooting,
But if any such young rake
Come for venison here freebooting,
A fine hash of it he'll make.
But if any such young rake
Come for venison here freebooting,
A fine hash of it he'll make.
Prince.
Pistols too, as well I handle,
If you've someone to shew fight,
I can snuff out a wax candle,
At twelve paces any night.
If you've someone to shew fight,
I can snuff out a wax candle,
At twelve paces any night.
Flor.
In that horrid way don't chatter,
If that fawn you better knew,
Instead of popping at her,
You would be for popping to.
If that fawn you better knew,
Instead of popping at her,
You would be for popping to.
Prince.
Hush!
Flor.
I won't hush!
Prince.
For your life, not a word,
A rustling in that bush I'm sure I heard.
Music—The head of the Fawn appears for an instant above the bush, the next minute it is seen to leap through a gap, and is lost amidst the trees.
Prince.
Yes! there it is—and there! yoicks! gone away!
(aims and shoots)
Flor.
Murder! he's going to shoot. Oh, don't sir, pray!
Prince.
Hit her, or my name isn't Felix!
Flor.
What!
Felix, Prince Felix?
Prince.
Yes!
Flor.
Then if you've shot
That fawn, and nailed it bleeding to a tree,
You've done for Mrs. F. that was to be.
(runs out)
Prince.
I've done for Mrs. F! The woman's mad!
And who is Mrs. F. suppose I had?
Pooh, bother Mrs. F! Whilst here I'm guessing
That crazy wench my venison will be dressing!
(music—Exit Prince, after Floretta, hastily)
| The Prince of Happy Land ; or, The Fawn in the Fores | |