PRINCE ERIC enters from the right; he is pale and unkempt, and his face retains evidence of the night's carouse.
The QUEEN rises, frightened.
ERIC. Did I scare you?
QUEEN. Not exactly.
ERIC. I can take myself out of the way. I was only looking for a glass of water.
He goes to the water-bottle, fills a cup full of water and gulps it down; then another, and still another.
QUEEN. Are you sick?
ERIC. [Impertinently] Only a little leaky.
QUEEN. What do you mean?
ERIC. Well, dry, if you please. The more wine you drink, the dryer gets your throat. The wetter, the dryer—that's madness, like everything else.
QUEEN. Why do you hate me?