Fairy of the Lake, The - Scene 2
SCENE II.
Agga. Incubus! Incubus!
Incubus, (below.) Whu-u-u! Whe-e-ether now?
Wh-o-o calls so loud?
Agga . You know, I trow.
Incubus! Incubus!
Did you not your Mistress hear?
Incub. Ye-e-e-e-yes —
Behold your shivering devil here. Incub.
(Shaking the snow from his sides.) Whu-u-u-u!
What's the business pr'ythee now? Agga.
Son of Frost! you know I trow.
Did you not your Mistress hear?
Incub. Hear? O yes; there's no fear of that, I assure you. When 'tis a woman we serve, our orders are sure to be sufficiently audible! The frosts of Hela cannot plug up one's ears against the clear tones of the feminine organ. But pr'ythee now, leave off your rhyming and your incantations, and blow my fingers for me a little. — It is half a century since I have been able to breathe any thing but sleet and hailstones upon them myself.
Agga. Really I have no warm breath to spare upon so cold a subject.
Incub. Why I suppose, indeed, I am not very engaging. Some thousand years hence, when ice-creams are predestined to become an article of luxury, some lady of honour, may chance to take a liking to a joint or two, by way of stomachic: But at present, I believe, there is no great danger of my being devour'd by the fair sex.
Agga . Not if they are of my taste, at least,
Incub. But pray, good Mrs. Journeywoman Sorceress! have you any further instructions? Any snug little commission for yourself?
Agga. Good Mr. Journeyman Devil! no. — If ever I admit any of your infernal train into my service, it shall be a devil of better quality.
Incub. Aye! aye! Mrs. You are for a good plump roasting Devil I suppose. This essence of snow and icicles might melt before the blaze of your beauty.
Agga. What, you think I have some attractions then?
Incub. Attractions! Before I descended into the regions of Hela, to have my blood converted into icicles, I should have been ready to die for you any half hour of my existence.
Ag. Were you such a Dragon amongst us in your life time? — Come, come; I suspect it was not for this you were sent to The Frozen Regions.
Inc. Why, no: offences of that sort are punished in a Hell of a very different description. In short, there is no dissembling. You know the mysteries of our faith; and the thing speaks for itself. Our fisticuff Divinities and I happened not to set up our horses together on the subject of the exquisite delight of being hacked and hewed into a thousand pieces. Not but that I could be valiant enough in my own way: for my mouth was full of big oaths; and my brow seemed as dark with danger as a thunder-cloud: till a disastrous coincidence took the sword of my renown out of my mouth, and placed it in my hand.
Ag. Ha! ha! poor Incubus! And then I suppose it was perfectly out of its element.
Inc. In short, the signal for battle was given; when suddenly a cold sweat coming over me, I slunk from the ranks; hid myself in a house of conveniency; died of apprehension, before the conflict was decided; was conveyed immediately to the Realms of Mist and Frost, and hung up for an icicle upon the eaves of Hela's palace; where I might right ruefully have remained, without remission or intermission, hope or holiday, the whole predestinated period of my purgation. —
Agga. Purgation? What, then, you do not expect to await The Twilight of the Gods in your present frozen state?
Incub. Schulda forbid! Let me see: according to my calculation, I have now — — — But if your invisible musicians will help me out with an accompaniment, I will describe, in a song, the year of my regeneration.
When the twelvemonth's contention of Cent'ries is done;
Whether eighteen be ended, and nineteen begun,
And Learning and Science their optics shall strain
To find some new nothing to puzzle the brain;
Then the Fates to this world shall my essence restore;
To shudder in Regions of Hela no more.
O! how different the race that my eyes shall behold!
For a soul of my kidney a true age of Gold!
Since none for his fears can be look'd on the worse,
Where they count for their fame not their scars but their purse
Then the Fates to this World, &c.
Then The Fair — Oh! how fair their sweet persons will shine,
When our helmets and scull-caps to them we resign,
When no grace of the form shall in vain be bestow'd,
And nakedness self be the tip of the mode.
Then their motions so easy, their manners so free!
In ferae naturae you'd deem them to be;
And Miss just in her teens, from all bashfulness freed,
Shall now skip o'er the rope, and now skip o'er the tweed:
O! how gay then I'll flirt and I'll flutter around,
Where the belles of the young 19th Cent'ry are found!
Their charms so obtrusive shall kindle a flame,
Shall melt all the ice that now stiffens my frame;
And I'll think, while Love's ardour shall glow in each pore,
Of the Regions of Frost and of Hela no more.
Agga. Incubus! Incubus!
Incubus, (below.) Whu-u-u! Whe-e-ether now?
Wh-o-o calls so loud?
Agga . You know, I trow.
Incubus! Incubus!
Did you not your Mistress hear?
Incub. Ye-e-e-e-yes —
Behold your shivering devil here. Incub.
(Shaking the snow from his sides.) Whu-u-u-u!
What's the business pr'ythee now? Agga.
Son of Frost! you know I trow.
Did you not your Mistress hear?
Incub. Hear? O yes; there's no fear of that, I assure you. When 'tis a woman we serve, our orders are sure to be sufficiently audible! The frosts of Hela cannot plug up one's ears against the clear tones of the feminine organ. But pr'ythee now, leave off your rhyming and your incantations, and blow my fingers for me a little. — It is half a century since I have been able to breathe any thing but sleet and hailstones upon them myself.
Agga. Really I have no warm breath to spare upon so cold a subject.
Incub. Why I suppose, indeed, I am not very engaging. Some thousand years hence, when ice-creams are predestined to become an article of luxury, some lady of honour, may chance to take a liking to a joint or two, by way of stomachic: But at present, I believe, there is no great danger of my being devour'd by the fair sex.
Agga . Not if they are of my taste, at least,
Incub. But pray, good Mrs. Journeywoman Sorceress! have you any further instructions? Any snug little commission for yourself?
Agga. Good Mr. Journeyman Devil! no. — If ever I admit any of your infernal train into my service, it shall be a devil of better quality.
Incub. Aye! aye! Mrs. You are for a good plump roasting Devil I suppose. This essence of snow and icicles might melt before the blaze of your beauty.
Agga. What, you think I have some attractions then?
Incub. Attractions! Before I descended into the regions of Hela, to have my blood converted into icicles, I should have been ready to die for you any half hour of my existence.
Ag. Were you such a Dragon amongst us in your life time? — Come, come; I suspect it was not for this you were sent to The Frozen Regions.
Inc. Why, no: offences of that sort are punished in a Hell of a very different description. In short, there is no dissembling. You know the mysteries of our faith; and the thing speaks for itself. Our fisticuff Divinities and I happened not to set up our horses together on the subject of the exquisite delight of being hacked and hewed into a thousand pieces. Not but that I could be valiant enough in my own way: for my mouth was full of big oaths; and my brow seemed as dark with danger as a thunder-cloud: till a disastrous coincidence took the sword of my renown out of my mouth, and placed it in my hand.
Ag. Ha! ha! poor Incubus! And then I suppose it was perfectly out of its element.
Inc. In short, the signal for battle was given; when suddenly a cold sweat coming over me, I slunk from the ranks; hid myself in a house of conveniency; died of apprehension, before the conflict was decided; was conveyed immediately to the Realms of Mist and Frost, and hung up for an icicle upon the eaves of Hela's palace; where I might right ruefully have remained, without remission or intermission, hope or holiday, the whole predestinated period of my purgation. —
Agga. Purgation? What, then, you do not expect to await The Twilight of the Gods in your present frozen state?
Incub. Schulda forbid! Let me see: according to my calculation, I have now — — — But if your invisible musicians will help me out with an accompaniment, I will describe, in a song, the year of my regeneration.
When the twelvemonth's contention of Cent'ries is done;
Whether eighteen be ended, and nineteen begun,
And Learning and Science their optics shall strain
To find some new nothing to puzzle the brain;
Then the Fates to this world shall my essence restore;
To shudder in Regions of Hela no more.
O! how different the race that my eyes shall behold!
For a soul of my kidney a true age of Gold!
Since none for his fears can be look'd on the worse,
Where they count for their fame not their scars but their purse
Then the Fates to this World, &c.
Then The Fair — Oh! how fair their sweet persons will shine,
When our helmets and scull-caps to them we resign,
When no grace of the form shall in vain be bestow'd,
And nakedness self be the tip of the mode.
Then their motions so easy, their manners so free!
In ferae naturae you'd deem them to be;
And Miss just in her teens, from all bashfulness freed,
Shall now skip o'er the rope, and now skip o'er the tweed:
O! how gay then I'll flirt and I'll flutter around,
Where the belles of the young 19th Cent'ry are found!
Their charms so obtrusive shall kindle a flame,
Shall melt all the ice that now stiffens my frame;
And I'll think, while Love's ardour shall glow in each pore,
Of the Regions of Frost and of Hela no more.
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