Look, we have snared the griffin bird.‡

Now have I got my claws on you,

you rascal, you good-for-nothing.

Seeing it’s my son angers me.

Prince:

Hush, Father, don’t trouble yourself.

King:

I am not troubled by this son,

who stands there like a red-faced boy

at my reproach. Are you facing

some knave, me who came upon you,

that you dare speak in such a way?

Explain to the high crown right now

how you came here, right here, here and

now. Spit it out! Hey! Will I get

that stammering confession soon,

running circles around my ears?

Prince:

I neither wear a red face, nor

would I stammer as you believe.

Calm yourself down, Father, be still.

I have an announcement to make,

to you, the realm, the world. I am

engaged.

King:

How so?

Prince:

Yes, yes, engaged in every sense,

as one’s words can only convey,

a vow to pledge, so I’m engaged.

King:

Well! To whom?

Prince:

To a miracle who will not

be a miracle. A creature

such that only a girl can be,

but yet like a girl unheard of.

An image before which magic

takes a knee and rubs its blind eyes.

The divine is in the picture,

so it moves, has life, and belongs

to me as I to it. It’s a bond,

my father, not to be broken.

Blood was shared, and in ours no one

will see the sweetest love end.

King:

Come, Chancellor, come!

Prince:

Allow me to kiss your hand, let

love fall down and beg at your feet.

She’s the one I want to be mine,

who’s worth the throne in every sense.

She will be an embellishment

to our dynasty, a sweet joy

in old age. O chase this sunlight

not from the snow of your white head!

This girl you will warm to, and she’ll

enchant you as she enchants me.

King:

Silence, you have no idea

what I think where it concerns you.

Listen up, my son, I can wear

the face of a bull and I would

rather not have you on my horns.

Step aside, here in the black, so

we can have a word in the dark,

quietly resolve our discord.

Prince:

Don’t you want to see her?

King:

I came with her in my mind’s eye,

already caught up in this dream.

I feel quite well disposed toward her,

but don’t take this to mean that now

I’m no longer opposed to you.

Step to the side here and you will

learn my fatherly intentions.

They step back into the gallery so that only their heads
can be seen.

Cinderella (upon awaking):

Now I would love to know if I

can feel around with these hands.

If it’s a dream, there is nothing.

For dreams, even if they please us,

they just aren’t worth getting up for.

I want to move this foot—like so—