_Helmaar_ (_kneels and kisses her hand_). Speak on, excellent fool.
_Christina and ladies_. Speak on, excellent fool--In came the Lady Eleonora, all in tears.
_Fool_. In comes the Lady Eleonora, all in tears--(_pauses and looks round_). Why now, what makes you all so curious about these tears?--Tears are but salt water, let them come from what eyes they will--my tears are as good as hers--in came John Aleftson, all in tears, just now, and n.o.body kneels to me--n.o.body kisses my hands--n.o.body cares half a straw for my tears--(_folds his arms and looks melancholy_). I am not one of those--I know the cause of my tears too well.
_Helm_. Perhaps they were caused by my unexpected return--hey?
_Fool_ (_scornfully_). No--I am not such a fool as that comes to. Don"t I know that, when you are at home, the poor may hold up their heads, and no journeyman-gentleman of an agent dares then to go about plaguing those who live in cottages? No, no,--I am not such a fool as to cry because Count Helmaar is come back; but the truth is, I cried because I am tired and ashamed of wearing this thing--(_throwing down his fool"s cap upon the floor, changes his tone entirely_)--_I!_--who am brother to the man who saved Count Helmaar"s life--I to wear a fool"s cap and bells--Oh shame! shame!
[_The ladies look at one another with signs of astonishment._]
_Christina_ (_aside_). A lucid interval--poor fool!--I will torment him no more--he has feeling--"twere better he had none.
_Eleon_. Hush!--hear him!
_Aleft_. (_throwing himself at the counts feet_). n.o.ble count, I have submitted to be thought a fool; I have worn this fool"s cap in your absence, that I might indulge my humour, and enjoy the liberty of speaking my mind freely to the people of all conditions. Now that you are returned, I have no need of such a disguise--I may now speak the truth without fear, and without a cap and bells.--I resign my salary, and give back the ensign of my office--(_presents the fool"s cap_).
[_Exit_.]
_Christina_. He might well say, that none but fools should pay compliments--this is the best compliment that has been paid you, brother.
_Eleon_. And observe, he has resigned his salary.
_Helm_. From this moment let it be doubled:--he made an excellent use of money when he was a fool--may he make half as good a use of it now he is a wise man.
_Christina_. Amen--and now I hope we are to have some more dancing.
[_Exeunt_.]
ACT II.
SCENE--_By moonlight--a forest--a castle illuminated at a distance.--A group of peasants seated on the ground, each with a knapsack beside him.--One peasant lies stretched on the ground_.
_1st Peasant_. Why, what I say is, that the wheel of the cart being broken, and the horse dead lame, and Charles there in that plight--(_points to the sleeping peasant_)--it is a folly to think of getting on further this evening.
_2nd Peasant_. And what I say is, it"s folly to sleep here, seeing I know the country, and am certain sure we have not above one mile at furthest to go, before we get to the end of our journey.
_1st Peasant_ (_pointing to the sleeper_). He can"t walk a mile--he"s done for--dog tired--
_3rd Peasant_. Are you _certain_ sure we have only one mile further to go?
_2nd Peasant_. Certain sure--
_All, except the sleeper and the 1st Peasant_. Oh, let us go on, then, and we can carry the knapsacks on our backs for this one mile.
_1st Peasant_. You must carry him, then, knapsack and all.
_All together_. So we will.
_2nd Peasant_. But first, do you see, let"s waken him; for a sleeping man"s twice as heavy as one that"s awake--Hollo, friend! waken!
waken!--(_he shakes the sleeper, who snores loudly_)--Good Lord, he snores loud enough to waken all the birds in the wood.
[_All the peasants shout in the sleeper"s ear, and he starts up, shaking himself._]
_Charles_. Am I awake?--(_stretching_.)
_2nd Peasant_. No, not yet, man--Why, don"t you know where you are? Ay; here"s the moon--and these be trees; and--I be a man, and what do you call this? (_holding up a knapsack_.)
_Charles_. A knapsack, I say, to be sure:--I"m as broad awake as the best of you.
_2nd Peasant_. Come on, then; we"ve a great way further to go before you sleep again.
_Charles_. A great way further! further to-night!--No, no.
_2nd Peasant_. Yes, yes; we settled it all while you were fast asleep--You are to be carried, you and your knapsack.
[_They prepare to carry him_.]
_Charles_ (_starting up, and struggling with them_). I"ve legs to walk--I won"t be carried!--I, a Swede, and be carried!--No! No!--
_All together_. Yes! Yes!
_Charles_. No! No!--(_he struggles for his knapsack, which comes untied in the struggle, and all the things fall out_.)--There, this comes of playing the fool.
[_They help him to pick up the things, and exclaim,_]
_All_. There"s no harm done--(_throwing the knapsack over his shoulder_).
_Charles_. I"m the first to march, after all.
_Peasants_. Ay, in your sleep!
[_Exeunt, laughing._]
_Enter_ CATHERINE"S _two little Children_.
_Little Girl_. I am sure I heard some voices this way--suppose it was the fairies!
_Little Boy_. It was only the rustling of the leaves. There are no such things as fairies; but if there were any such, we have no need to fear them.
_Little Boy sings_.
I.
Nor elves, nor fays, nor magic charm, Have pow"r, or will, to work us harm; For those who dare the truth to tell, Fays, elves, and fairies, wish them well.