CORPORAL. To gratify a whim. I like this riband. It was a present from an old sweetheart of mine. Look what a jaunty air it gives one!—and where's the harm of keeping up appearances?—
HAROLD. What silly vanity! But let me give you a piece of advice: beware of the scrutiny of the king—he has an eye like a hawk, old as he is; and if he should happen to spy your watch-riband—
CORPORAL.
Pooh, pooh!—he would not notice such a trifle.—But who comes yonder? That Hungarian
Karl. Let's make way for him.—He's a fellow I don't fancy. What a man to woo and
win Sophia Mansfield!
HAROLD.
He'll never win her, woo her as he may. Count Laniska will look to that.
[HAROLD, CORPORAL and party retire into tents.
(Enter KARL, in great agitation.)
SONG—KARL.
Confusion!—Again rejected
By the maid I fondly love!
Illusion!—In soul dejected!
Jealous fears my bosom move.
Dear Sophia!—Hope's deceiver!
Whom I love; but love in vain!
Can I to my rival leave her?
No—the thought distracts my brain!
Love—revenge!—Oh, how I falter!
Passion's throes unman me quite:
Now he leads her to he alter—
How I tremble at the sight!
Hold, tormentors! cease to tear me!
All in vain I gasp for breath!
Hated rival—scorn I bear thee
Which can only end in death!
(HAROLD advances.)
HAROLD.
Karl, what ails you?