KING. True. Boy, do your duty.
PRINCE. Oh, bother!
(Those words are the last spoken by him in his present state. When we see him again, which is the moment afterwards, he is translated. He looks the same, but so does a clock into which new works have been put. The change is effected quite simply by CINDERELLA delicately raising her skirt and showing him her foot. As the exquisite nature of the sight thus vouchsafed to him penetrates his being a tremor passes through his frame; his vices take flight from him and the virtues enter. It is a heady wakening, and he falls at her feet. The courtiers are awkward, not knowing whether they should fall also. CINDERELLA beams to the children, who utter ribald cries of triumph.)
KING (rotating on his strap). Give him air! Fill your lungs, my son!
QUEEN (on hers). My boy! My boy!
LORD MAYOR (quickly taking the royal cue). Oh, lady fair!
(The PRINCE’S palpitations increase in violence.)
QUEEN. Oh, happy sight!