KING. Oh, glorious hour!
LORD MAYOR (not sure that he was heard the first time). Oh, lady fair!
(The PRINCE springs to his feet. He is looking very queer.)
LORD TIMES (probably remembering how he looked once). The Prince is about to propose!
LORD MAYOR. O yes, O yes, O yes!
KING. Proceed, my son.
PRINCE (with lover-like contortions and addressing himself largely to the feet). Dew of the morning, garden of delight, sweet petals of enchanted nights, the heavens have opened and through the chink thou hast fallen at my feet, even as I fall at thine. Thou art not one but twain, and these the twain—Oh, pretty feet on which my lady walks, are they but feet? O no, O no, O no! They are so small I cannot see them. Hie! A candle that I may see my lady’s feet!
(He kisses one foot, and she holds up the other for similar treatment.)
O Cinderella, if thou wilt deign to wife with me, I’ll do my best to see that through the years you always walk on kisses.