MONA. Why, what a dreadful stormy night we’re getting, It’s well for me I do not mind a wetting! Full fathom five below those crested waves No tempests ever stir _our_ coral caves. We hear no thunder far below the sea; The mermaids’ haunt is still as still can be; In fact it’s rather dull sometimes down there, And so I come up here and comb my hair.
To-night, alas! another ship went down, I cannot bear to see poor sailors drown.
Good gracious! What is this? As I am alive, Why, it’s a man! I know it is!
(_Steps hurriedly on rock as though going to plunge into sea._)
I’ll dive! I won’t! (_comes down_) I will! (_goes up_) No! (_Hesitates._) Shall I? Will it bite? It’s not a shark? (_Goes up and peeps, comes back holding hand to heart._) It’s put me in a fright. Mona! you silly goose! This palpitation Is strange perhaps, but not a bad sensation. I rather like it. Is it fear? No question! I’m not afraid! Perhaps it’s indigestion? I’ll take another peep.
(_Goes to PRINCE on tip_toe, and comes away rapidly, clapping her hands._)
He’s charming, really! If I could take him home I’d like to dearly. How nice he’d be to play with! Shall I try? He’s fast asleep! I’m sure he wouldn’t die.
His clothes are wet, perhaps he’s shipwrecked, too.
(_PRINCE slowly sits up holding his hand to his side._)
PRINCE DOODLE. Good evening. How d’ye do?
(_Rises with difficulty and comes forward._)
Where am I? Who are you? What’s this? (_Feels water._) It’s water!
MONA. This is the Norway coast, and I’m its daughter. Young sir, you’re wet! your coat—— Might be a better ’un. I’m _young_; but still you won’t find here a _wetter_ ’un.
MONA. Tell me your tale, for stories I love well.
PRINCE DOODLE. Story; why bless you! I have none to tell; Only last night, a-sailing on the ocean, There came a squall, at least so I’ve a notion. It stormed! it blew! it rained! the lightning crashed! We pitched and rolled, (_imitates motion of ship_) and tossed, the thunder flashed; The wind, it rose and howled, and so did we.
PRINCE DOODLE. Things often are at sea. “Cut down the starboard stays’l!” cried I. Then “Splice the jib-boom, there, to the cross-trees, men!”
(_Speaks excitedly, suiting action to words, and using hands as speaking trumpet_,)