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The Troll-courtier.
Now the small-fry are happy!
Peer.
[Struggling with a little Imp that has bit himself fast to his ear.]
Let go will you, beast The Courtier.
[Hitting him across the fingers.]
Gently, you scamp, with a scion of royalty! Peer. A rat-hole! [Runs to it.
The Imps.
Be quick, Brother Nixie, and block it!
Peer.
The old one was bad, but the youngsters are worse!
The Imps.
Slash him!
Peer.
Oh, would I were small as a mouse!
[Rushing around.
The Imps.
[Swarming round him.]
Close the ring! Close the ring!
Peer.
[Weeping.]
Were I only a louse!
[He falls.
The Imps.
Now into his eyes!
