as my sweet, innocent child.

Why would I have any reason,

cause, or right to hate one as dear

to me as a child of my own breast!

O do not believe that coy voice

that whispers of sin, which it’s not.

Believe your right, not your left ear,

I mean that false one telling you

that I am this evil mother

green-eyed at beauty. Don’t be fooled

by such an absurd fairy tale

stuffing the world’s greedy ears full

of these newsy bits that I am

mad with jealousy, by nature

evil. It is just idle talk.

I love you. To admit this has

never been said more sincerely.

That you’re so lovely gives me joy.

Beauty in one’s own child is balm

for a mother’s love gone weary,

not the goad to some heinous deed,

like the fairy tale has laid out

for this story line here, this play.

Don’t turn away. Be a dear child.

Trust a parent’s word as your own.

Snow White:

O I believed you with pleasure,

for believing is quiet bliss.

But how much faith is going to make

me believe when no faith exists,

where a roguish malice lurks, where

injustice sits with a proud neck?

You speak as kindly as you can,

and yet you still cannot act kind.

Those eyes, flashing so scornfully,

wince at me so threatening, so

unmotherly, laugh with menace

at the affection on your tongue,

with derision. They speak the truth,

and they alone, those proud eyes, I

believe, not the backstabber’s tongue.

Prince:

I believe you see right, my child.

Queen:

Must you keep helping, little prince,*

feeding more flames to the fire, where

a flood of healing is needed?

A stranger clad in motley clothes

should not step too close to a queen.

Prince:

Why not dare to rise against you,

you fiend, for the princess’s sake?

Queen:

What?

Prince:

Yes, and while I look small and weak,

I’ll echo this a thousand times,

ten—a hundred thousand times for you:

a dreadful crime’s taken place here,

and one that points to you, the Queen.

Poison was strewn for this sweet child,

set out as though she were a dog.

Why not admit your wickedness,

your good conscience! You, fair child,

let’s go up for a little while

and contemplate this grievous thing.

If you’re too weak, just lay your head

upon my faithful shoulder here,

which would cherish such a burden.

From you, Queen, we shall take our leave

for now of a short span of time.

Then we’ll continue our talk.

(To Snow White) Come,

permit me this sweet liberty.

He leads her inside the palace.

Queen:

Just go, broken mast and rigging.

Go newlyweds, married to death.

Go misery, lead weakness away,

and be very dear arm in arm.

Come, fair Hunter, let’s have a talk.