SCENE — Outer Walls and Courtyard of Castle Adamant. Melissa,
SachaRissa, and ladies discovered, armed with
battleaxes.
CHORUS
"Death to the Invader!"
Chorus: Death to the invader!
Strike a deadly blow,
As an old Crusader
Struck his Paynim foe!
Let our martial thunder
Fill his soul with wonder,
Tear his ranks asunder,
Lay the tyrant low!
Death to the invader!
Strike a deadly blow,
As an old Crusader
Struck his Paynim foe!
Melissa: Thus our courage, all untarnish'd,
We're instructed to display;
But to tell the truth unvarnish'd,
We are more inclined to say,
"Please you, do not hurt us,"
All: "Do not hurt us, if it please you!"
Melissa: "Please you let us be."
All: "Let us be — let us be!"
Melissa: "Soldiers disconcert us."
All: "Disconcert us, if it please you!"
Melissa: "Frighten'd maids are we!"
All: "Maids are we, maids are we!"
Melissa: Please you,
All: Do not hurt us;
Melissa: Please you,
All: Let us be.
Mel & Cho: Frighten'd maids are we, frighten'd maids are we!
Melissa: But 'twould be an error
To confess our terror,
So in Ida's name,
Boldly we exclaim:
Mel & Cho: Death to the invader!
Strike a deadly blow,
As an old Crusader
Struck his Paynim foe!
(Flourish. Enter Princess, armed, attended by Blanche and Psyche.)
Princess: I like your spirit, girls! We have to meet
Stern bearded warriors in fight to-day;
Wear naught but what is necessary to
Preserve your dignity before their eyes,
And give your limbs full play.
Blanche: One moment, ma'am,
Here is a paradox we should not pass
Without inquiry. We are prone to say
"This thing is Needful — that, Superfluous"—
Yet they invariably co-exist!
We find the Needful comprehended in
The circle of the grand Superfluous,
Yet the Superfluous cannot be brought
Unless you're amply furnished with the Needful.
These singular considerations are—
Princess: Superfluous, yet not Needful — so you see
The terms may independently exist.
(To Ladies) Women of Adamant, we have to show
That women, educated to the task,
Can meet Man, face to face, on his own ground,
And beat him there. Now, let us set to work;
Where is our lady surgeon?
Sach.: Madam, here!
Princess: We shall require your skill to heal the wounds
Of those that fall.
Sach.: (Alarmed) What, heal the wounded?
Princess: Yes!
Sach.: And cut off real live legs and arms?
Princess: Of course!
Sach.: I wouldn't do it for a thousand pounds!
Princess: Why, how is this? Are you faint-hearted, girl?
You've often cut them off in theory!
Sach.: In theory I'll cut them off again
With pleasure, and as often as you like,
But not in practice.
Princess: Coward! Get you hence,
I've craft enough for that, and courage too,
I'll do your work! My fusiliers, advance!,
Why, you are armed with axes! Gilded toys!
Where are your rifles, pray?
Chloe: Why, please you, ma'am,
We left them in the armoury, for fear
That in the heat and turmoil of the fight,
They might go off!
Princess: "They might!" Oh, craven souls!
Go off yourselves! Thank heaven I have a heart
That quails not at the thought of meeting men;
I will discharge your rifles! Off with you!
(Exit Chloe)
Where's my bandmistress?
Ada: Please you, ma'am, the band
Do not feel well, and can't come out today!
Princess: Why, this is flat rebellion! I've no time
To talk to them just now. But, happily,
I can play several instruments at once,
And I will drown the shrieks of those that fall
With trumpet music, such as soldiers love!
How stand we with respect to gunpowder?
My Lady Psyche — you who superintend
Our lab'ratory — are you well prepared
To blow these bearded rascals into shreds?
Psyche: Why, madam—
Princess: Well?
Psyche: Let us try gentler means.
We can dispense with fulminating grains
While we have eyes with which to flash our rage!
We can dispense with villainous saltpetre
While we have tongues with which to blow them up!
We can dispense, in short, with all the arts
That brutalize the practical polemist!
Princess: (Contemptuously) I never knew a more dispensing
chemist!
Away, away — I'll meet these men alone
Since all my women have deserted me!
(Exeunt all but Princess, singing
refrain of
"Please you, do not hurt us",
pianissimo.)
Princess: So fail my cherished plans — so fails my faith—
And with it hope, and all that comes of hope!
Song - Princess
"I Built upon a Rock"
Princess: I built upon a rock,
But ere Destruction's hand
Dealt equal lot
To Court and cot,
My rock had turn'd to sand!
I leant upon an oak,
But in the hour of need,
Alack-a-day,
My trusted stay
Was but a bruis-ed reed!
A bruis-ed reed!
Ah faithless rock,
My simple faith to mock!
Ah trait'rous oak,
Thy worthlessness to cloak,
Thy worthlessness to cloak!
I drew a sword of steel
But when to home and hearth
The battle's breath
Bore fire and death,
My sword was but a lath!
I lit a beacon fire,
But on a stormy day
Of frost and rime,
In wintertime,
My fire had died away,
Had died away!
Ah, coward steel,
That fear can un-anneal!
False fire indeed,
To fail me in my need,
To fail me in my need!
(Princess Sinks upon a rock. Enter Chloe and all the Ladies)
Chloe: Madam, your father and your brothers claim
An audience!
Princess: What do they do here?
Chloe: They come
To fight for you!
Princess: Admit them!
Blanche: Infamous!
One's brothers, ma'am, are men!
Princess: So I have heard.
But all my women seem to fail me when
I need them most. In this emergency,
Even one's brothers may be turned to use.
Gama: (Entering, pale and unnerved) My daughter!
Princess: Father! Thou art free!
Gama: Aye, free!
Free as a tethered ass! I come to thee
With words from Hildebrand. Those duly given
I must return to blank captivity.
I'm free so far.
Princess: Your message.
Gama: Hildebrand
Is loth to war with women. Pit my sons,
My three brave sons, against these popinjays,
These tufted jack-a-dandy featherheads,
And on the issue let thy hand depend!
Princess: Insult on insult's head! Are we a stake
For fighting men? What fiend possesses thee,
That thou has come with offers such as these
From such as he to such an one as I?
Gama: I am possessed
By the pale devil of a shaking heart!
My stubborn will is bent. I dare not face
That devilish monarch's black malignity!
He tortures me with torments worse than death,
I haven't anything to grumble at!
He finds out what particular meats I love,
And gives me them. The very choicest wines,
The costliest robes — the richest rooms are mine.
He suffers none to thwart my simplest plan,
And gives strict orders none should contradict me!
He's made my life a curse! (Weeps)
Princess: My tortured father!
SONG (King GAMA with CHORUS of GIRLS)
"Whene'er I Spoke"
Gama: Whene'er I poke
Sarcastic joke
Replete with malice spiteful,
This people mild
Politely smil'd,
And voted me delightful!
Now, when a wight
Sits up all night
Ill-natur'd jokes devising,
And all his wiles
Are met with smiles
It's hard, there's no disguising!
Ah! Oh, don't the days seem lank and long
When all goes right and nothing goes wrong,
And isn't your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Chorus: Oh, isn't your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Gama: When German bands
From music stands
Play'd Wagner imperfectly —
I bade them go—
They didn't say no,
But off they went directly!
The organ boys
They stopp'd their noise,
With readiness surprising,
And grinning herds
Of hurdy-gurds
Retired apologising!
Ah! Oh, don't the days seem lank and long
When all goes right and nothing goes wrong,
And isn't your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Chorus: Oh, isn't your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Gama: I offer'd gold
In sums untold
To all who'd contradict me—
I said I'd pay
A pound a day
To any one who kick'd me—
I've brib'd with toys
Great vulgar boys
To utter something spiteful,
But, bless you, no!
They would be so
Confoundedly politeful!
Ah! In short, these aggravating lads,
They tickle my tastes, they feed my fads,
They give me this and they give me that,
And I've nothing whatever to grumble at!
Chorus: Oh, isn't your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
(Gama Bursts into tears and falls sobbing
on a seat.)
Princess: My poor old father! How he must have suffered!
Well, well, I yield!
Gama: (Hysterically) She yields! I'm saved, I'm saved!
(Exit)
Princess: Open the gates — admit these warriors,
Then get you all within the castle walls.
(Exit)
(The gates are opened and the Girls mount the
battlements as the
Soldiers enter. Arac, Guron and Scynthius
also enter.)
Chorus of Soldiers
"When anger spreads his wing"
Chorus: When anger spread his wing,
And all seems dark as night for it,
There's nothing but to fight for it,
But ere you pitch your ring,
Select a pretty site for it,
(This spot is suited quite for it,)
And then you gaily sing,
And then you gaily sing:
"Oh I love the jolly rattle
Of an orde-al by battle,
There's an end of tittle-tattle
When your enemy is dead.
It's an arrant molly-coddle
Fears a crack upon his noddle
And he's only fit to swaddle
In a downy feather-bed!
Ladies: For a Soldiers: Oh, I
fight's love the
a jolly
kind rattle
of Of an
thing orde-al by battle
That I There's an
love end of
to tittle
look tattle,
up- When your
on, enemy is dead.
So It's an
let arrant
us molly-
sing, coddle
Long Fears a
live crack upon
the his
King, noddle,
And his And he's
son only fit to
Hi- swaddle, In a
la- downy fea-
ri-on! ther bed!
(During this, Hilarion, Florian,
and Cyril are
brought out by the "Daughters of
the Plough".
They are still bound and wear
the robes.
Enter GAMA.)
Gama: Hilarion! Cyril! Florian! dressed as women!
Is this indeed Hilarion?
Hilar.: Yes, it is!
Gama: Why, you look handsome in your women's clothes!
Stick to 'em! Men's attire becomes you not!
(To CYRIL and FLORIAN) And you, young ladies, will you please to
pray
King Hildebrand to set me free again?
Hang on his neck and gaze into his eyes,
He never could resist a pretty face!
Hilar.: You dog, you'll find, though I wear woman's garb,
My sword is long and sharp!
Gama: Hush, pretty one!
Here's a virago! Here's a termagant!
If length and sharpness go for anything,
You'll want no sword while you can wag your tongue!
Cyril: What need to waste your words on such as he?
He's old and crippled.
Gama: Aye, but I've three sons,
Fine fellows, young and muscular, and brave,
They're well worth talking to! Come, what d'ye say?
Arac: Aye, pretty ones, engage yourselves with us,
If three rude warriors affright you not!
Hilar.: Old as you are, I'd wring your shrivelled neck
If you were not the Princess Ida's father.
Gama: If I were not the Princess Ida's father,
And so had not her brothers for my sons,
No doubt you'd wring my neck — in safety too!
Come, come, Hilarion, begin, begin!
Give them no quarter — they will give you none.
You've this advantage over warriors
Who kill their country's enemies for pay,—
You know what you are fighting for — look there!
(Pointing to Ladies on the
battlements)
(Exit Gamma. Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril
are led off.)
SONG (Arac, Guron, Scynthius and Chorus)
"This Helmet, I Suppose"
Arac: This helmet, I suppose,
Was meant to ward off blows,
It's very hot
And weighs a lot,
As many a guardsman knows,
As many a guardsman knows,
As many a guardsman knows,
As many a guardsman knows,
So off, so off that helmet goes.
Others: Yes, yes, yes,
So off that helmet goes!
(Giving their helmets to
attendants)
Arac: This tight-fitting cuirass
Is but a useless mass,
It's made of steel,
And weighs a deal,
This tight-fitting cuirass
Is but a useless mass,
A man is but an ass
Who fights in a cuirass,
So off, so off goes that cuirass.
Others: Yes, yes, yes,
So off goes that cuirass!
(Removing
cuirasses)
Arac: These brassets, truth to tell,
May look uncommon well,
But in a fight
They're much too tight,
They're like a lobster shell,
They're like a lobster shell!
Others: Yes, yes, yes,
They're like a lobster shell.
(Removing
their brassets)
Arac: These things I treat the same
(indicating leg pieces)
(I quite forget their name.)
They turn one's legs
To cribbage pegs—
Their aid I thus disclaim,
Their aid I thus disclaim,
Though I forget their name,
Though I forget their name,
Their aid, their aid I thus disclaim!
Others: Yes, yes, yes,
All: Their aid (we/they) thus disclaim!
(They remove their leg pieces and wear close-fitting shape suits.)
Enter Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril
(Desperate fight between the three Princes
and the three
Knights, during which the Ladies on the
battlements and
the Soldiers on the stage sing the
following chorus):
CHORUS DURING THE FIGHT
"This is our Duty"
Chorus: This is our duty plain towards
Our Princess all immaculate,
We ought to bless her brothers' swords,
And piously ejaculate:
Oh, Hungary!
Oh, Hungary!
Oh, doughty sons of Hungary!
May all success
Attend and bless
Your warlike ironmongery!
Hilarion! Hilarion! Hilarion!
(By this time, Arac, Guron, and
Scynthius are
on the ground, wounded —
Hilarion, Cyril and
Florian stand
over them.)
Princess: (Entering through gate and followed by Ladies,
Hildebrand, and Gama.)
Hold! stay your hands! — we yield ourselves to you!
Ladies, my brothers all lie bleeding there!
Bind up their wounds — but look the other way.
(Coming down) Is this the end? (Bitterly to Lady
Blanche)
How say you, Lady Blanche—
Can I with dignity my post resign?
And if I do, will you then take my place?
Blanche: To answer this, it's meet that we consult
The great Potential Mysteries; I mean
The five Subjunctive Possibilities—
The May, the Might, the Would, the Could, the Should.
Can you resign? The Prince May claim you; if
He Might, you Could — and if you Should, I Would!
Princess: I thought as much! Then to my fate I yield—
So ends my cherished scheme! Oh, I had hoped
To band all women with my maiden throng,
And make them all abjure tyrannic Man!
Hildebd: A noble aim!
Princess: You ridicule it now;
But if I carried out this glorious scheme,
At my exalted name Posterity
Would bow in gratitude!
Hildebd: But pray
reflect —
If you enlist all women in your cause,
And make them all abjure tyrannic Man,
The obvious question then arises, "How
Is this Posterity to be provided?"
Princess: I never thought of that! My Lady Blanche,
How do you solve the riddle?
Blanche: Don't ask me —
Abstract Philosophy won't answer it.
Take him — he is your Shall. Give in to Fate!
Princess: And you desert me. I alone am staunch!
Hilarion: Madam, you placed your trust in Woman — well,
Woman has failed you utterly — try Man,
Give him one chance, it's only fair — besides,
Women are far too precious, too divine,
To try unproven theories upon.
Experiments, the proverb says, are made
On humble subjects — try our grosser clay,
And mould it as you will!
Cyril: Remember, too
Dear Madam, if at any time you feel
A-weary of the Prince, you can return
To Castle Adamant, and rule your girls
As heretofore, you know.
Princess: And shall I find
The Lady Psyche here?
Psyche: If Cyril, ma'am,
Does not behave himself, I think you will.
Princess: And you Melissa, shall I find you here?
Melissa: Madam, however Florian turns out,
Unhesitatingly I answer, No!
Gama: Consider this, my love, if your mama
Had looked on matters from your point of view
(I wish she had), why where would you have been?
Blanche: There's an unbounded field of speculation,
On which I could discourse for hours!
Princess: No doubt!
We will not trouble you. Hilarion,
I have been wrong — I see my error now.
Take me, Hilarion — "We will walk this world
Yoked in all exercise of noble end!
And so through those dark gates across the wild
That no one knows!" Indeed, I love thee — Come!
Finale
"With joy abiding"
Princess: With joy abiding,
Together gliding
Through life's variety,
In sweet society,
And thus enthroning
The love I'm owning,
On this atoning
I will rely!
Chorus: It were profanity
For poor humanity
To treat as vanity
The sway of Love.
In no locality
Or principality
Is our mortality
It's sway above!
Hilarion: When day is fading,
With serenading
And such frivolity
Of tender quality—
With scented showers
Of fairest flowers,
The happy hours
Will gaily fly!
The happy hours will gaily fly!
Chorus: It were profanity
For poor humanity
To treat as vanity
The sway of Love.
In no locality
Or principality
Is our mortality
It's sway above!
1st Sops: In no lo- Others:
cality Or princi- Its
pality Is our mor- sway
tality It's sway a- a-
bove! bove!
Princess & With scented Others:
Hilarion: showers Of fairest Its
flowers, The happy sway
hours will gaily a-
fly! bove!
All: In no locality
Or principality
Is our mortality
Above the sway of love!
Curtain
RUDDIGORE
or
The Witch's Curse
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
MORTALS
SIR RUTHVEN MURGATROYD (disguised as Robin Oakapple, a Young
Farmer)
RICHARD DAUNTLESS (his Foster-Brother, a Man-o'-war's man)
SIR DESPARD MURGATROYD, OF RUDDIGORE (a Wicked Baronet)
OLD ADAM GOODHEART (Robin's Faithful Servant)
ROSE MAYBUD (a Village Maiden)
MAD MARGARET
DAME HANNAH (Rose's Aunt)
ZORAH and RUTH (Professional Bridesmaids)
GHOSTS
SIR RUPERT MURGATROYD (the First Baronet)
SIR JASPER MURGATROYD (the Third Baronet)
SIR LIONEL MURGATROYD (the Sixth Baronet)
SIR CONRAD MURGATROYD (the Twelfth Baronet)
SIR DESMOND MURGATROYD (the Sixteenth Baronet)
SIR GILBERT MURGATROYD (the Eighteenth Baronet)
SIR MERVYN MURGATROYD (the Twentieth Baronet)
and
SIR RODERIC MURGATROYD (the Twenty-first Baronet)
Chorus of Officers, Ancestors, Professional Bridesmaids, and
Villagers
ACT I
The Fishing Village of Rederring, in Cornwall
ACT II
The Picture Gallery in Ruddigore Castle
TIME
Early in the 19th Century
ACT I
SCENE. The fishing village of Rederring (in Cornwall). Rose
Maybud's cottage is seen L.
Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids. They range themselves in front of
Rose's cottage.
CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.
Fair is Rose as bright May-day;
Soft is Rose as the warm west-wind;
Sweet is Rose as the new-mown hay—
Rose is queen of maiden-kind!
Rose, all glowing
With virgin blushes, say—
Is anybody going
To marry you to-day?
SOLO—ZORAH.
Every day, as the days roll on,
Bridesmaids' garb we gaily don,
Sure that a maid so fairly famed
Can't long remain unclaimed.
Hour by hour and day by day,
Several months have passed away,
Though she's the fairest flower that blows,
No one has married Rose!
CHORUS.
Rose, all glowing
With virgin blushes, say—
Is anybody going
To marry you to-day?
ZORAH. Hour by hour and day by day,
Months have passed away.
CHORUS. Fair is Rose as bright Mayday, etc.
(Enter Dame Hannah, from cottage.)
HANNAH. Nay, gentle maidens, you sing well but vainly, for
Rose is still heart-free, and looks but coldly upon her many
suitors.
ZORAH. It's very disappointing. Every young man in the
village is in love with her, but they are appalled by her beauty
and modesty, and won't declare themselves; so, until she makes
her own choice, there's no chance for anybody else.
RUTH. This is, perhaps, the only village in the world that
possesses an endowed corps of professional bridesmaids who are
bound to be on duty every day from ten to four—and it is at
least six months since our services were required. The pious
charity by which we exist is practically wasted!
ZOR. We shall be disendowed—that will be the end of it!
Dame Hannah—you're a nice old person—you could marry if you
liked. There's old Adam—Robin's faithful servant—he loves you
with all the frenzy of a boy of fourteen.
HAN. Nay—that may never be, for I am pledged!
ALL. To whom?
HAN. To an eternal maidenhood! Many years ago I was
betrothed to a god-like youth who woo'd me under an assumed name.
But on the very day upon which our wedding was to have been
celebrated, I discovered that he was no other than Sir Roderic
Murgatroyd, one of the bad Baronets of Ruddigore, and the uncle
of the man who now bears that title. As a son of that accursed
race he was no husband for an honest girl, so, madly as I loved
him, I left him then and there. He died but ten years since, but
I never saw him again.
ZOR. But why should you not marry a bad Baronet of
Ruddigore?
RUTH. All baronets are bad; but was he worse than other
baronets?
HAN. My child, he was accursed.
ZOR. But who cursed him? Not you, I trust!
HAN. The curse is on all his line and has been, ever since
the time of Sir Rupert, the first Baronet. Listen, and you shall
hear the legend:
LEGEND—HANNAH.
Sir Rupert Murgatroyd
His leisure and his riches
He ruthlessly employed
In persecuting witches.
With fear he'd make them quake—
He'd duck them in his lake—
He'd break their bones
With sticks and stones,
And burn them at the stake!
CHORUS. This sport he much enjoyed,
Did Rupert Murgatroyd—
No sense of shame
Or pity came
To Rupert Murgatroyd!
Once, on the village green,
A palsied hag he roasted,
And what took place, I ween,
Shook his composure boasted;
For, as the torture grim
Seized on each withered limb,
The writhing dame
`Mid fire and flame
Yelled forth this curse on him:
"Each lord of Ruddigore,
Despite his best endeavour,
Shall do one crime, or more,
Once, every day, for ever!
This doom he can't defy,
However he may try,
For should he stay
His hand, that day
In torture he shall die!"
The prophecy came true:
Each heir who held the title
Had, every day, to do
Some crime of import vital;
Until, with guilt o'erplied,
"I'll sin no more!" he cried,
And on the day
He said that say,
In agony he died!
CHORUS. And thus, with sinning cloyed,
Has died each Murgatroyd,
And so shall fall,
Both one and all,
Each coming Murgatroyd!
(Exeunt Chorus of Bridesmaids.)
(Enter Rose Maybud from cottage, with small basket on her arm.)
HAN. Whither away, dear Rose? On some errand of charity,
as is thy wont?
ROSE. A few gifts, dear aunt, for deserving villagers. Lo,
here is some peppermint rock for old gaffer Gadderby, a set of
false teeth for pretty little Ruth Rowbottom, and a pound of
snuff for the poor orphan girl on the hill.
HAN. Ah, Rose, pity that so much goodness should not help
to make some gallant youth happy for life! Rose, why dost thou
harden that little heart of thine? Is there none hereaway whom
thou couldst love?
ROSE. And if there were such an one, verily it would ill
become me to tell him so.
HAN. Nay, dear one, where true love is, there is little
need of prim formality.
ROSE. Hush, dear aunt, for thy words pain me sorely. Hung
in a plated dish-cover to the knocker of the workhouse door, with
naught that I could call mine own, save a change of baby-linen
and a book of etiquette, little wonder if I have always regarded
that work as a voice from a parent's tomb. This hallowed volume
(producing a book of etiquette), composed, if I may believe the
title-page, by no less an authority than the wife of a Lord
Mayor, has been, through life, my guide and monitor. By its
solemn precepts I have learnt to test the moral worth of all who
approach me. The man who bites his bread, or eats peas with a
knife, I look upon as a lost creature, and he who has not
acquired the proper way of entering and leaving a room is the
object of my pitying horror. There are those in this village who
bite their nails, dear aunt, and nearly all are wont to use their
pocket combs in public places. In truth I could pursue this
painful theme much further, but behold, I have said enough.
HAN. But is there not one among them who is faultless, in
thine eyes? For example—young Robin. He combines the manners
of a Marquis with the morals of a Methodist. Couldst thou not
love him?
ROSE. And even if I could, how should I confess it unto
him? For lo, he is shy, and sayeth naught!
BALLAD—ROSE.
If somebody there chanced to be
Who loved me in a manner true,
My heart would point him out to me,
And I would point him out to you.
(Referring But here it says of those who point—
to book.) Their manners must be out of joint—
You may not point—
You must not point—
It's manners out of joint, to point!
Ah! Had I the love of such as he,
Some quiet spot he'd take me to,
Then he could whisper it to me,
And I could whisper it to you.
(Referring But whispering, I've somewhere met,
to book.) Is contrary to etiquette:
Where can it be (Searching book.)
Now let me see—(Finding reference.)
Yes, yes!
It's contrary to etiquette!
(Showing it to Dame Hannah.)
If any well-bred youth I knew,
Polite and gentle, neat and trim,
Then I would hint as much to you,
And you could hint as much to him.
(Referring But here it says, in plainest print,
to book.) "It's most unladylike to hint"—
You may not hint,
You must not hint—
It says you mustn't hint, in print!
Ah! And if I loved him through and through—
(True love and not a passing whim),
Then I could speak of it to you,
And you could speak of it to him.
(Referring But here I find it doesn't do
to book.) To speak until you're spoken to.
Where can it be? (Searching book.)
Now let me see—(Finding reference.)
Yes, yes!
"Don't speak until you're spoken to!"
(Exit Dame Hannah.)
ROSE. Poor aunt! Little did the good soul think, when she
breathed the hallowed name of Robin, that he would do even as
well as another. But he resembleth all the youths in this
village, in that he is unduly bashful in my presence, and lo, it
is hard to bring him to the point. But soft, he is here!
(Rose is about to go when Robin enters and calls her.)
ROBIN. Mistress Rose!
ROSE. (Surprised.) Master Robin!
ROB. I wished to say that—it is fine.
ROSE. It is passing fine.
ROB. But we do want rain.
ROSE. Aye, sorely! Is that all?
ROB. (Sighing.) That is all.
ROSE. Good day, Master Robin!
ROB. Good day, Mistress Rose! (Both going—both stop.)
ROSE. I crave pardon, I—
ROB. I beg pardon, I—
ROSE. You were about to say?—
ROB. I would fain consult you—
ROSE. Truly?
ROB. It is about a friend.
ROSE. In truth I have a friend myself.
ROB. Indeed? I mean, of course—
ROSE. And I would fain consult you—
ROB. (Anxiously.) About him?
ROSE. (Prudishly.) About her.
ROB. (Relieved.) Let us consult one another.
DUET-ROBIN and ROSE
ROB. I know a youth who loves a little maid—
(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)
Silent is he, for he's modest and afraid—
(Hey, but he's timid as a youth can be!)
ROSE. I know a maid who loves a gallant youth,
(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
She cannot tell him all the sad, sad truth—
(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)
ROB. Poor little man!
ROSE. Poor little maid!
ROB. Poor little man!
ROSE. Poor little maid!
BOTH. Now tell me pray, and tell me true,
What in the world should the (young man\maiden) do?
ROB. He cannot eat and he cannot sleep—
(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)
Daily he goes for to wail—for to weep—
(Hey, but he's wretched as a youth can be!)
ROSE. She's very thin and she's very pale—
(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
Daily she goes for to weep—for to wail—
(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)
ROB. Poor little maid!
ROSE. Poor little man!
ROB. Poor little maid!
ROSE. Poor little man!
BOTH. Now tell me pray, and tell me true,
What in the world should the (young man\maiden) do?
ROSE. If I were the youth I should offer her my name—
(Hey, but her face is a sight for to see!)
ROB. If were the maid I should fan his honest flame—
(Hey, but he's bashful as a youth can be!)
ROSE. If I were the youth I should speak to her to-day—
(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
ROB. If I were the maid I should meet the lad half way—
(For I really do believe that timid youth will
die!)
ROSE. Poor little man!
ROB. Poor little maid!
ROSE. Poor little man!
ROB. Poor little maid!
BOTH. I thank you, (miss\sir), for your counsel true;
I'll tell that (youth\maid) what (he\she) ought to
do!
(Exit ROSE.)
ROB. Poor child! I sometimes think that if she wasn't
quite so particular I might venture—but no, no—even then I
should be unworthy of her!
(He sits desponding. Enter Old Adam.)
ADAM. My kind master is sad! Dear Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd—
ROB. Hush! As you love me, breathe not that hated name.
Twenty years ago, in horror at the prospect of inheriting that
hideous title, and with it the ban that compels all who succeed
to the baronetcy to commit at least one deadly crime per day, for
life, I fled my home, and concealed myself in this innocent
village under the name of Robin Oakapple. My younger brother,
Despard, believing me to be dead, succeeded to the title and its
attendant curse. For twenty years I have been dead and buried.
Don't dig me up now.
ADAM. Dear master, it shall be as you wish, for have I not
sworn to obey you for ever in all things? Yet, as we are here
alone, and as I belong to that particular description of good old
man to whom the truth is a refreshing novelty, let me call you by
your own right title once more! (Robin assents.) Sir Ruthven
Murgatroyd! Baronet! Of Ruddigore! Whew! It's like eight
hours at the seaside!
ROB. My poor old friend! Would there were more like you!
ADAM. Would there were indeed! But I bring you good
tidings. Your foster-brother, Richard, has returned from
sea—his ship the Tom-Tit rides yonder at anchor, and he himself
is even now in this very village!
ROB. My beloved foster-brother? No, no—it cannot be!
ADAM. It is even so—and see, he comes this way!
(Exeunt together.)
(Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids.)
CHORUS.
From the briny sea
Comes young Richard, all victorious!
Valorous is he—
His achievements all are glorious!
Let the welkin ring
With the news we bring
Sing it—shout it—
Tell about it—
Safe and sound returneth he,
All victorious from the sea!
(Enter Richard. The girls welcome him as he greets old
acquaintances.)
BALLAD—RICHARD.
I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop,
And, off Cape Finistere,
A merchantman we see,
A Frenchman, going free,
So we made for the bold Mounseer,
D'ye see?
We made for the bold Mounseer.
CHORUS. So we made for the bold Mounseer,
D'ye see?
We made for the bold Mounseer.
But she proved to be a Frigate—and she up with her
ports,
And fires with a thirty-two!
It come uncommon near,
But we answered with a cheer,
Which paralysed the Parley-voo,
D'ye see?
Which paralysed the Parley-voo!
CHORUS. Which paralysed the Parley-voo,
D'ye see?
Which paralysed the Parley-voo!
Then our Captain he up and he says, says he,
"That chap we need not fear,—
We can take her, if we like,
She is sartin for to strike,
For she's only a darned Mounseer,
D'ye see?
She's only a darned Mounseer!"
CHORUS. For she's only a darned Mounseer,
D'ye see?
She's only a darned Mounseer!
"But to fight a French fal-lal—it's like hittin' of a
gal!
It's a lubberly thing for to do;
For we, with all our faults,
Why, we're sturdy British salts,
While she's only a Parley-voo,
D'ye see?
While she's only a poor Parley-voo!"
CHORUS. While she's only a Parley-voo,
D'ye see?
While she's only a poor Parley-voo!'
So we up with our helm, and we scuds before the breeze
As we gives a compassionating cheer;
Froggee answers with a shout
As he sees us go about,
Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,
D'ye see?
Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!
CHORUS. Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,
D'ye see?
Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!
And I'll wager in their joy they kissed each other's
cheek
(Which is what them furriners do),
And they blessed their lucky stars
We were hardy British tars
Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo,
D'ye see?
Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!
CHORUS. Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo,
D'ye see?
Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!
(HORNPIPE.)
(Exeunt Chorus.)
(Enter Robin.)
ROB. Richard!
RICH. Robin!
ROB. My beloved foster-brother, and very dearest friend,
welcome home again after ten long years at sea! It is such deeds
as yours that cause our flag to be loved and dreaded throughout
the civilized world!
RICH. Why, lord love ye, Rob, that's but a trifle to what
we have done in the way of sparing life! I believe I may say,
without exaggeration, that the marciful little Tom-Tit has spared
more French frigates than any craft afloat! But 'taint for a
British seaman to brag, so I'll just stow my jawin' tackle and
belay. (Robin sighs.) But 'vast heavin', messmate, what's
brought you all a-cockbill?
ROB. Alas, Dick, I love Rose Maybud, and love in vain!
RICH. You love in vain? Come, that's too good! Why,
you're a fine strapping muscular young fellow—tall and strong as
a to'-gall'n'-m'st—taut as a forestay—aye, and a barrowknight
to boot, if all had their rights!
ROB. Hush, Richard—not a word about my true rank, which
none here suspect. Yes, I know well enough that few men are
better calculated to win a woman's heart than I. I'm a fine
fellow, Dick, and worthy any woman's love—happy the girl who
gets me, say I. But I'm timid, Dick; shy—nervous—modest—
retiring—diffident—and I cannot tell her, Dick, I cannot tell
her! Ah, you've no idea what a poor opinion I have of myself,
and how little I deserve it.
RICH. Robin, do you call to mind how, years ago, we swore
that, come what might, we would always act upon our hearts'
dictates?
ROB. Aye, Dick, and I've always kept that oath. In doubt,
difficulty, and danger I've always asked my heart what I should
do, and it has never failed me.
RICH. Right! Let your heart be your compass, with a clear
conscience for your binnacle light, and you'll sail ten knots on
a bowline, clear of shoals, rocks, and quicksands! Well, now,
what does my heart say in this here difficult situation? Why, it
says, "Dick," it says—(it calls me Dick acos it's known me from
a babby)—"Dick," it says, "you ain't shy—you ain't
modest—speak you up for him as is!" Robin, my lad, just you lay
me alongside, and when she's becalmed under my lee, I'll spin her
a yarn that shall sarve to fish you two together for life!
ROB. Will you do this thing for me? Can you, do you think?
Yes (feeling his pulse). There's no false modesty about you.
Your—what I would call bumptious self-assertiveness (I mean the
expression in its complimentary sense) has already made you a
bos'n's mate, and it will make an admiral of you in time, if you
work it properly, you dear, incompetent old impostor! My dear
fellow, I'd give my right arm for one tenth of your modest
assurance!
SONG—ROBIN.
My boy, you may take it from me,
That of all the afflictions accurst
With which a man's saddled
And hampered and addled,
A diffident nature's the worst.
Though clever as clever can be—
A Crichton of early romance—
You must stir it and stump it,
And blow your own trumpet,
Or, trust me, you haven't a chance!
If you wish in the world to advance,
Your merits you're bound to enhance,
You must stir it and stump it,
And blow your own trumpet,
Or, trust me, you haven't a chance!
Now take, for example, my case:
I've a bright intellectual brain—
In all London city
There's no one so witty—
I've thought so again and again.
I've a highly intelligent face—
My features cannot be denied—
But, whatever I try, sir,
I fail in—and why, sir?
I'm modesty personified!
If you wish in the world to advance, etc.
As a poet, I'm tender and quaint—
I've passion and fervour and grace—
From Ovid and Horace
To Swinburne and Morris,
They all of them take a back place.
Then I sing and I play and I paint:
Though none are accomplished as I,
To say so were treason:
You ask me the reason?
I'm diffident, modest, and shy!
If you wish in the world to advance, etc.
(Exit Robin.)
RICH. (looking after him). Ah, it's a thousand pities he's
such a poor opinion of himself, for a finer fellow don't walk!
Well, I'll do my best for him. "Plead for him as though it was
for your own father"—that's what my heart's a-remarkin' to me
just now. But here she comes! Steady! Steady it is! (Enter
Rose—he is much struck by her.) By the Port Admiral, but she's
a tight little craft! Come, come, she's not for you, Dick, and
yet—she's fit to marry Lord Nelson! By the Flag of Old England,
I can't look at her unmoved.
ROSE. Sir, you are agitated—
RICH. Aye, aye, my lass, well said! I am agitated, true
enough!—took flat aback, my girl; but 'tis naught—'twill pass.
(Aside.) This here heart of mine's a-dictatin' to me like
anythink. Question is, Have I a right to disregard its
promptings?
ROSE. Can I do aught to relieve thine anguish, for it
seemeth to me that thou art in sore trouble? This
apple—(offering a damaged apple).
RICH. (looking at it and returning it). No, my lass,
'tain't that: I'm—I'm took flat aback—I never see anything like
you in all my born days. Parbuckle me, if you ain't the
loveliest gal I've ever set eyes on. There—I can't say fairer
than that, can I?
ROSE. No. (Aside.) The question is, Is it meet that an
utter stranger should thus express himself? (Refers to book.)
Yes—"Always speak the truth."
RICH. I'd no thoughts of sayin' this here to you on my own
account, for, truth to tell, I was chartered by another; but when
I see you my heart it up and it says, says it, "This is the very
lass for you, Dick"—"speak up to her, Dick," it says—(it calls
me Dick acos we was at school together)—"tell her all, Dick," it
says, "never sail under false colours—it's mean!" That's what
my heart tells me to say, and in my rough, common-sailor fashion,
I've said it, and I'm a-waiting for your reply. I'm a-tremblin',
miss. Lookye here—(holding out his hand). That's narvousness!
ROSE (aside). Now, how should a maiden deal with such an
one? (Consults book.) "Keep no one in unnecessary suspense."
(Aloud.) Behold, I will not keep you in unnecessary suspense.
(Refers to book.) "In accepting an offer of marriage, do so with
apparent hesitation." (Aloud.) I take you, but with a certain
show of reluctance. (Refers to book.) "Avoid any appearance of
eagerness." (Aloud.) Though you will bear in mind that I am far
from anxious to do so. (Refers to book.) "A little show of
emotion will not be misplaced!" (Aloud.) Pardon this tear!
(Wipes her eye.)
RICH. Rose, you've made me the happiest blue-jacket in
England! I wouldn't change places with the Admiral of the Fleet,
no matter who he's a-huggin' of at this present moment! But,
axin' your pardon, miss (wiping his lips with his hand), might I
be permitted to salute the flag I'm a-goin' to sail under?
ROSE (referring to book). "An engaged young lady should not
permit too many familiarities." (Aloud.) Once! (Richard kisses
her.)
DUET—RICHARD and ROSE.
RICH. The battle's roar is over,
O my love!
Embrace thy tender lover,
O my love!
From tempests' welter,
From war's alarms,
O give me shelter
Within those arms!
Thy smile alluring,
All heart-ache curing,
Gives peace enduring,
O my love!
ROSE. If heart both true and tender,
O my love!
A life-love can engender,
O my love!
A truce to sighing
And tears of brine,
For joy undying
Shall aye be mine,
BOTH. And thou and I, love,
Shall live and die, love,
Without a sigh, love—
My own, my love!
(Enter Robin, with Chorus of Bridesmaids.)
CHORUS.
If well his suit has sped,
Oh, may they soon be wed!
Oh, tell us, tell us, pray,
What doth the maiden say?
In singing are we justified,
Hall the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!
Let the nuptial knot be tied:
In fair phrases
Hymn their praises,
Hail the Bridegroom—hall the Bride?
ROB. Well—what news? Have you spoken to her?
RICH. Aye, my lad, I have—so to speak—spoke her.
ROB. And she refuses?
RICH. Why, no, I can't truly say she do.
ROB. Then she accepts! My darling! (Embraces her.)
BRIDESMAIDS.
Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride! etc.
ROSE (aside, referring to her book). Now, what should a
maiden do when she is embraced by the wrong gentleman?
RICH. Belay, my lad, belay. You don't understand.
ROSE. Oh, sir, belay, I beseech you!
RICH. You see, it's like this: she accepts—but it's me!
ROB. You! (Richard embraces Rose.)
BRIDESMAIDS.
Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!
When the nuptial knot is tied—
ROB. (interrupting angrily). Hold your tongues, will you!
Now then, what does this mean?
RICH. My poor lad, my heart grieves for thee, but it's like
this: the moment I see her, and just as I was a-goin' to mention
your name, my heart it up and it says, says it—"Dick, you've
fell in love with her yourself," it says; "be honest and
sailor-like—don't skulk under false colours—speak up," it says,
"take her, you dog, and with her my blessin'!"
BRIDESMAIDS.
Hail the Bridegroom—hail the bride—
ROB. Will you be quiet! Go away! (Chorus makes faces at
him and exeunt.) Vulgar girls!
RICH. What could I do? I'm bound to obey my heart's
dictates.
ROB. Of course—no doubt. It's quite right—I don't
mind—that is, not particularly—only it's—it is disappointing,
you know.
ROSE (to Robin). Oh, but, sir, I knew not that thou didst
seek me in wedlock, or in very truth I should not have hearkened
unto this man, for behold, he is but a lowly mariner, and very
poor withal, whereas thou art a tiller of the land, and thou hast
fat oxen, and many sheep and swine, a considerable dairy farm and
much corn and oil!
RICH. That's true, my lass, but it's done now, ain't it,
Rob?
ROSE. Still it may be that I should not be happy in thy
love. I am passing young and little able to judge. Moreover, as
to thy character I know naught!
ROB. Nay, Rose, I'll answer for that. Dick has won thy
love fairly. Broken-hearted as I am, I'll stand up for Dick
through thick and thin!
RICH. (with emotion). Thankye, messmate! that's well said.
That's spoken honest. Thankye, Rob! (Grasps his hand.)
ROSE. Yet methinks I have heard that sailors are but
worldly men, and little prone to lead serious and thoughtful
lives!
ROB. And what then? Admit that Dick is not a steady
character, and that when he's excited he uses language that would
make your hair curl. Grant that—he does. It's the truth, and
I'm not going to deny it. But look at his good qualities. He's
as nimble as a pony, and his hornpipe is the talk of the fleet!
RICH. Thankye, Rob! That's well spoken. Thankye, Rob!
ROSE. But it may be that he drinketh strong waters which do
bemuse a man, and make him even as the wild beasts of the desert!
ROB. Well, suppose he does, and I don't say he don't, for
rum's his bane, and ever has been. He does drink—I won't deny
it. But what of that? Look at his arms—tattooed to the
shoulder! (Rich. rolls up his sleeves.) No, no—I won't hear a
word against Dick!
ROSE. But they say that mariners are but rarely true to
those whom they profess to love!
ROB. Granted—granted—and I don't say that Dick isn't as
bad as any of 'em. (Rich. chuckles.) You are, you know you are,
you dog! a devil of a fellow—a regular out-and-out Lothario!
But what then? You can't have everything, and a better hand at
turning-in a dead-eye don't walk a deck! And what an
accomplishment that is in a family man! No, no—not a word
against Dick. I'll stick up for him through thick and thin!
RICH. Thankye, Rob, thankye. You're a true friend. I've
acted accordin' to my heart's dictates, and such orders as them
no man should disobey.
ENSEMBLE—RICHARD, ROBIN, and ROSE.
In sailing o'er life's ocean wide
Your heart should be your only guide;
With summer sea and favouring wind,
Yourself in port you'll surely find.
SOLO—RICHARD.
My heart says, "To this maiden strike—
She's captured you.
She's just the sort of girl you like—
You know you do.
If other man her heart should gain,
I shall resign."
That's what it says to me quite plain,
This heart of mine.
SOLO—ROBIN.
My heart says, "You've a prosperous lot,
With acres wide;
You mean to settle all you've got
Upon your bride."
It don't pretend to shape my acts
By word or sign;
It merely states these simple facts,
This heart of mine!
SOLO—ROSE.
Ten minutes since my heart said "white"—
It now says "black".
It then said "left"—it now says "right"—
Hearts often tack.
I must obey its latest strain—
You tell me so. (To Richard.)
But should it change its mind again,
I'll let you know.
(Turning from Richard to Robin, who embraces her.)
ENSEMBLE.
In sailing o'er life's ocean wide
No doubt the heart should be your guide;
But it is awkward when you find
A heart that does not know its mind!
(Exeunt Robin with Rose L., and Richard, weeping, R.)
(Enter Mad Margaret. She is wildly dressed in picturesque tatters,
and is an obvious caricature of theatrical madness.)
SCENA—MARGARET.
Cheerily carols the lark
Over the cot.
Merrily whistles the clerk
Scratching a blot.
But the lark
And the clerk,
I remark,
Comfort me not!
Over the ripening peach
Buzzes the bee.
Splash on the billowy beach
Tumbles the sea.
But the peach
And the beach
They are each
Nothing to me!
And why?
Who am I?
Daft Madge! Crazy Meg!
Mad Margaret! Poor Peg!
He! he! he! he! (chuckling).
Mad, I?
Yes, very!
But why?
Mystery!
Don't call!
Whisht! whisht!
No crime—
'Tis only
That I'm
Love-lonely!
That's all!
BALLAD—MARGARET.
To a garden full of posies
Cometh one to gather flowers,
And he wanders through its bowers
Toying with the wanton roses,
Who, uprising from their beds,
Hold on high their shameless heads
With their pretty lips a-pouting,
Never doubting—never doubting
That for Cytherean posies
He would gather aught but roses!
In a nest of weeds and nettles
Lay a violet, half-hidden,
Hoping that his glance unbidden
Yet might fall upon her petals.
Though she lived alone, apart,
Hope lay nestling at her heart,
But, alas, the cruel awaking
Set her little heart a-breaking,
For he gathered for his posies
Only roses—only roses!
(Bursts into tears.)
(Enter Rose.)
ROSE. A maiden, and in tears? Can I do aught to soften thy
sorrow? This apple—(offering apple).
MAR. (Examines it and rejects it.) No! (Mysteriously.)
Tell me, are you mad?
ROSE. I? No! That is, I think not.
MAR. That's well! Then you don't love Sir Despard
Murgatroyd? All mad girls love him. I love him. I'm poor Mad
Margaret—Crazy Meg—Poor Peg! He! he! he! he! (chuckling).
ROSE. Thou lovest the bad Baronet of Ruddigore? Oh,
horrible—too horrible!
MAR. You pity me? Then be my mother! The squirrel had a
mother, but she drank and the squirrel fled! Hush! They sing a
brave song in our parts—it runs somewhat thus: (Sings.)
"The cat and the dog and the little puppee
Sat down in a—down in a—in a——
I forget what they sat down in, but so the song goes!
Listen—I've come to pinch her!
ROSE. Mercy, whom?
MAR. You mean "who".
ROSE. Nay! it is the accusative after the verb.
MAR. True. (Whispers melodramatically.) I have come to
pinch Rose Maybud!
ROSE. (Aside, alarmed.) Rose Maybud!
MAR. Aye! I love him—he loved me once. But that's all
gone, fisht! He gave me an Italian glance—thus (business)—and
made me his. He will give her an Italian glance, and make her
his. But it shall not be, for I'll stamp on her—stamp on her-
-stamp on her! Did you ever kill anybody? No? Why not?
Listen—I killed a fly this morning! It buzzed, and I wouldn't
have it. So it died—pop! So shall she!
ROSE. But, behold, I am Rose Maybud, and I would fain not
die "pop."
MAR. You are Rose Maybud?
ROSE. Yes, sweet Rose Maybud!
MAR. Strange! They told me she was beautiful! And he
loves you! No, no! If I thought that, I would treat you as the
auctioneer and land-agent treated the lady-bird—I would rend you
asunder!
ROSE. Nay, be pacified, for behold I am pledged to another,
and lo, we are to be wedded this very day!
MAR. Swear me that! Come to a Commissioner and let me have
it on affidavit! I once made an affidavit—but it died—it died-
-it died! But see, they come—Sir Despard and his evil crew!
Hide, hide—they are all mad—quite mad!
ROSE. What makes you think that?
MAR. Hush! They sing choruses in public. That's mad
enough, I think. Go—hide away, or they will seize you! Hush!
Quite softly—quite, quite softly!
(Exeunt together, on tiptoe.)
(Enter Chorus of Bucks and Blades, heralded by Chorus of
Bridesmaids.)
CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.
Welcome, gentry,
For your entry
Sets our tender hearts a-beating.
Men of station,
Admiration
Prompts this unaffected greeting.
Hearty greeting offer we!
CHORUS OF BUCKS AND BLADES.
When thoroughly tired
Of being admired,
By ladies of gentle degree—degree,
With flattery sated,
High-flown and inflated,
Away from the city we flee—we flee!
From charms intramural
To prettiness rural
The sudden transition
Is simply Elysian,
So come, Amaryllis,
Come, Chloe and Phyllis,
Your slaves, for the moment, are we!
ALL. From charms intramural, etc.
CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.
The sons of the tillage
Who dwell in this village
Are people of lowly degree—degree.
Though honest and active,
They're most unattractive,
And awkward as awkward can be—can be.
They're clumsy clodhoppers
With axes and choppers,
And shepherds and ploughmen
And drovers and cowmen,
And hedgers and reapers
And carters and keepers,
But never a lover for me!
ENSEMBLE.
BRIDESMAIDS. BUCKS AND BLADES.
So welcome gentry, etc. When thoroughly tired, etc.
(Enter Sir Despard Murgatroyd.)
SONG AND CHORUS—SIR DESPARD.
SIR D. Oh, why am I moody and sad?
CH. Can't guess!
SIR D. And why am I guiltily mad?
CH. Confess!
SIR D. Because I am thoroughly bad!
CH. Oh yes—
SIR D. You'll see it at once in my face.
Oh, why am I husky and hoarse?
CH. Ah, why?
SIR D. It's the workings of conscience, of course.
CH. Fie, fie!
SIR D. And huskiness stands for remorse,
CH. Oh my!
SIR D. At least it does so in my case!
SIR D. When in crime one is fully employed—
CH. Like you—
SIR D. Your expression gets warped and destroyed:
CH. It do.
SIR D. It's a penalty none can avoid;
CH. How true!
SIR D. I once was a nice-looking youth;
But like stone from a strong catapult—
CH. (explaining to each other). A trice—
SIR D. I rushed at my terrible cult—
CH. (explaining to each other). That's vice—
SIR D. Observe the unpleasant result!
CH. Not nice.
SIR D. Indeed I am telling the truth!
SIR D. Oh, innocent, happy though poor!
CH. That's we—
SIR D. If I had been virtuous, I'm sure—
CH. Like me—
SIR D. I should be as nice-looking as you're!
CH. May be.
SIR D. You are very nice-looking indeed!
Oh, innocents, listen in time—
CH. We doe,
SIR D. Avoid an existence of crime—
CH. Just so—
SIR D. Or you'll be as ugly as I'm—
CH. (loudly). No! No!
SIR D. And now, if you please, we'll proceed.
(All the girls express their horror of Sir Despard. As he
approaches them they fly from him, terror-stricken, leaving
him alone on the stage.)
SIR D. Poor children, how they loathe me—me whose hands
are certainly steeped in infamy, but whose heart is as the heart
of a little child! But what is a poor baronet to do, when a
whole picture gallery of ancestors step down from their frames
and threaten him with an excruciating death if he hesitate to
commit his daily crime? But ha! ha! I am even with them!
(Mysteriously.) I get my crime over the first thing in the
morning, and then, ha! ha! for the rest of the day I do good—I
do good—I do good! (Melodramatically.) Two days since, I stole
a child and built an orphan asylum. Yesterday I robbed a bank
and endowed a bishopric. To-day I carry off Rose Maybud and
atone with a cathedral! This is what it is to be the sport and
toy of a Picture Gallery! But I will be bitterly revenged upon
them! I will give them all to the Nation, and nobody shall ever
look upon their faces again!
(Enter Richard.)
RICH. Ax your honour's pardon, but—
SIR D. Ha! observed! And by a mariner! What would you
with me, fellow?
RICH. Your honour, I'm a poor man-o'-war's-man, becalmed in
the doldrums—
SIR D. I don't know them.
RICH. And I make bold to ax your honour's advice. Does
your honour know what it is to have a heart?
SIR D. My honour knows what it is to have a complete
apparatus for conducting the circulation of the blood through the
veins and arteries of the human body.
RICH. Aye, but has your honour a heart that ups and looks
you in the face, and gives you quarter-deck orders that it's life
and death to disobey?
SIR D. I have not a heart of that description, but I have a
Picture Gallery that presumes to take that liberty.
RICH. Well, your honour, it's like this—Your honour had an
elder brother—
SIR D. It had.
RICH. Who should have inherited your title and, with it,
its cuss.
SIR D. Aye, but he died. Oh, Ruthven!—
RICH. He didn't.
SIR D. He did not?
RICH. He didn't. On the contrary, he lives in this here
very village, under the name of Robin Oakapple, and he's a-going
to marry Rose Maybud this very day.
SIR D. Ruthven alive, and going to marry Rose Maybud! Can
this be possible?
RICH. Now the question I was going to ask your honour is-
-Ought I to tell your honour this?
SIR D. I don't know. It's a delicate point. I think you
ought. Mind, I'm not sure, but I think so.
RICH. That's what my heart says. It says, "Dick," it says
(it calls me Dick acos it's entitled to take that liberty), "that
there young gal would recoil from him if she knowed what he
really were. Ought you to stand off and on, and let this young
gal take this false step and never fire a shot across her bows to
bring her to? No," it says, "you did not ought." And I won't
ought, accordin'.
SIR D. Then you really feel yourself at liberty to tell me
that my elder brother lives—that I may charge him with his cruel
deceit, and transfer to his shoulders the hideous thraldom under
which I have laboured for so many years! Free—free at last!
Free to live a blameless life, and to die beloved and regretted
by all who knew me!
DUET—SIR DESPARD and RICHARD.
RICH. You understand?
SIR D. I think I do;
With vigour unshaken
This step shall be taken.
It's neatly planned.
RICH. I think so too;
I'll readily bet it
You'll never regret it!
BOTH. For duty, duty must be done;
The rule applies to every one,
And painful though that duty be,
To shirk the task were fiddle-de-dee!
SIR D. The bridegroom comes—
RICH. Likewise the bride—
The maidens are very
Elated and merry;
They are her chums.
SIR D. To lash their pride
Were almost a pity,
The pretty committee!
BOTH. But duty, duty must be done;
The rule applies to every one,
And painful though that duty be,
To shirk the task were fiddle-de-dee!
(Exeunt Richard and Sir Despard.)
(Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids and Bucks.)
CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.
Hail the bride of seventeen summers:
In fair phrases
Hymn her praises;
Lift your song on high, all comers.
She rejoices
In your voices.
Smiling summer beams upon her,
Shedding every blessing on her:
Maidens greet her—
Kindly treat her—
You may all be brides some day!
CHORUS OF BUCKS.
Hail the bridegroom who advances,
Agitated,
Yet elated.
He's in easy circumstances,
Young and lusty,
True and trusty.
ALL. Smiling summer beams upon her, etc.
(Enter Robin, attended by Richard and Old Adam, meeting Rose,
attended by Zorah and Dame Hannah. Rose and Robin embrace.)
MADRIGAL.
ROSE, DAME HANNAH, RICHARD, OLD ADAM with CHORUS.
ROSE. When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day—
Life is love in merry May!
GIRLS. Spring is green—Fal lal la!
Summer's rose—Fal lal la!
QUARTET. It is sad when summer goes,
Fa la!
MEN. Autumn's gold—Fah lal la!
Winter's grey—Fah lal la!
QUARTET. Winter still is far away—
Fa la!
CHORUS. Leaves in autumn fade and fall,
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fa la!
HANNAH. In the spring-time seed is sown:
In the summer grass is mown:
In the autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
GIRLS. Spring is hope—Fal lal la!
Summer's joy—Fal lal la!
QUARTET. Spring and summer never cloy.
Fa la!
MEN. Autumn,toil—Fal lal la!
Winter, rest—Fal lal la!
QUARTET. Winter, after all, is best—
Fal la!
CHORUS. Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, aye, and winter too—
Every season has its cheer,
Life is lovely all the year!
Fa la!
(Gavotte.)
(After Gavotte, enter Sir Despard.)
SIR D. Hold, bride and bridegroom, ere you wed each other,
I claim young Robin as my elder brother!
His rightful title I have long enjoyed:
I claim him as Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd!
CHORUS. O wonder!
ROSE (wildly). Deny the falsehood, Robin, as you should,
It is a plot!
ROB. I would, if conscientiously I could,
But I cannot!
CHORUS. Ah, base one! Ah, base one!
SOLO—ROBIN.
As pure and blameless peasant,
I cannot, I regret,
Deny a truth unpleasant,
I am that Baronet!
CHORUS. He is that Baronet!
ROBIN. But when completely rated
Bad Baronet am I,
That I am what he's stated
I'll recklessly deny!
CHORUS. He'll recklessly deny!
ROB. When I'm a bad Bart. I will tell taradiddles!
CHORUS. He'll tell taradiddles when he's a bad Bart.
ROB. I'll play a bad part on the falsest of fiddles.
CHORUS. On very false fiddles he'll play a bad part!
ROB. But until that takes place I must be conscientious—
CHORUS. He'll be conscientious until that takes place.
ROB. Then adieu with good grace to my morals sententious!
CHORUS. To morals sententious adieu with good grace!
ZOR. Who is the wretch who hath betrayed thee?
Let him stand forth!
RICH. (coming forward). 'Twas I!
ALL. Die, traitor!
RICH. Hold! my conscience made me!
Withhold your wrath!
SOLO—RICHARD.
Within this breast there beats a heart
Whose voice can't be gainsaid.
It bade me thy true rank impart,
And I at once obeyed.
I knew 'twould blight thy budding fate—
I knew 'twould cause thee anguish great—
But did I therefore hesitate?
No! I at once obeyed!
ALL. Acclaim him who, when his true heart
Bade him young Robin's rank impart,
Immediately obeyed!
SOLO—ROSE (addressing Robin).
Farewell!
Thou hadst my heart—
'Twas quickly won!
But now we part—
Thy face I shun!
Farewell!
Go bend the knee
At Vice's shrine,
Of life with me
All hope resign.
Farewell! Farewell! Farewell!
(To Sir Despard.) Take me—I am thy bride!
BRIDESMAIDS.
Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!
When the nuptial knot is tied;
Every day will bring some joy
That can never, never cloy!
(Enter Margaret, who listens.)
SIR D. Excuse me, I'm a virtuous person now—
ROSE. That's why I wed you!
SIR D. And I to Margaret must keep my vow!
MAR. Have I misread you?
Oh, joy! with newly kindled rapture warmed,
I kneel before you! (Kneels.)
SIR D. I once disliked you; now that I've reformed,
How I adore you! (They embrace.)
BRIDESMAIDS.
Hail the Bridegroom-hail the Bride!
When the nuptial knot is tied;
Every day will bring some joy
That can never, never cloy!
ROSE. Richard, of him I love bereft,
Through thy design,
Thou art the only one that's left,
So I am thine! (They embrace.)
BRIDESMAIDS.
Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!
Let the nuptial knot be tied!
DUET—ROSE and RICHARD.
Oh, happy the lily
When kissed by the bee;
And, sipping tranquilly,
Quite happy is he;
And happy the filly
That neighs in her pride;
But happier than any,
A pound to a penny,
A lover is, when he
Embraces his bride!
DUET—SIR DESPARD and MARGARET.
Oh, happy the flowers
That blossom in June,
And happy the bowers
That gain by the boon,
But happier by hours
The man of descent,
Who, folly regretting,
Is bent on forgetting
His bad baronetting,
And means to repent!
TRIO—HANNAH, ADAM, and ZORAH.
Oh, happy the blossom
That blooms on the lea,
Likewise the opossum
That sits on a tree,
But when you come across 'em,
They cannot compare
With those who are treading
The dance at a wedding,
While people are spreading
The best of good fare!
SOLO—ROBIN.
Oh, wretched the debtor
Who's signing a deed!
And wretched the letter
That no one can read!
But very much better
Their lot it must be
Than that of the person
I'm making this verse on,
Whose head there's a curse on—
Alluding to me!
Repeat ensemble with Chorus.
(Dance)
(At the end of the dance Robin falls senseless on the stage.
Picture.)
END OF ACT I
ACT II
Scene.—Picture Gallery in Ruddigore Castle. The walls are
covered with full-length portraits of the Baronets of
Ruddigore from the time of James I.—the first being that of
Sir Rupert, alluded to in the legend; the last, that of the
last deceased Baronet, Sir Roderic.
Enter Robin and Adam melodramatically. They are greatly altered
in appearance, Robin wearing the haggard aspect of a guilty
roue; Adam, that of the wicked steward to such a man.
DUET—ROBIN and ADAM.
ROB. I once was as meek as a new-born lamb,
I'm now Sir Murgatroyd—ha! ha!
With greater precision
(Without the elision),
Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd—ha! ha!
ADAM. And I, who was once his valley-de-sham,
As steward I'm now employed—ha! ha!
The dickens may take him—
I'll never forsake him!
As steward I'm now employed—ha! ha!
ADDITIONAL SONG
(Omitted after opening night.)
ROB. My face is the index to my mind,
All venom and spleen and gall—ha! ha!
Or, properly speaking,
It soon will be reeking,
With venom and spleen and gall—ha! ha!
ADAM. My name from Adam Goodheart you'll find
I've changed to Gideon Crawle—ha! ha!
For bad Bart's steward
Whose heart is much too hard
Is always Gideon Crawle—ha! ha!
BOTH. How dreadful when an innocent heart
Becomes, perforce, a bad young Bart.,
And still more hard on old Adam,
His former faithful valley-de-sham!
ROB. This is a painful state of things, old Adam!
ADAM. Painful, indeed! Ah, my poor master, when I swore
that, come what would, I would serve you in all things for ever,
I little thought to what a pass it would bring me! The
confidential adviser to the greatest villain unhung! Now, sir,
to business. What crime do you propose to commit to-day?
ROB. How should I know? As my confidential adviser, it's
your duty to suggest something.
ADAM. Sir, I loathe the life you are leading, but a good
old man's oath is paramount, and I obey. Richard Dauntless is
here with pretty Rose Maybud, to ask your consent to their
marriage. Poison their beer.
ROB. No—not that—I know I'm a bad Bart., but I'm not as
bad a Bart. as all that.
ADAM. Well, there you are, you see! It's no use my making
suggestions if you don't adopt them.
ROB. (melodramatically). How would it be, do you think,
were I to lure him here with cunning wile—bind him with good
stout rope to yonder post—and then, by making hideous faces at
him, curdle the heart-blood in his arteries, and freeze the very
marrow in his bones? How say you, Adam, is not the scheme well
planned?
ADAM. It would be simply rude—nothing more. But
soft—they come!
(Adam and Robin retire up as Richard and Rose enter, preceded by
Chorus of Bridesmaids.)
DUET—RICHARD and ROSE.
RICH. Happily coupled are we,
You see—
I am a jolly Jack Tar,
My star,
And you are the fairest,
The richest and rarest
Of innocent lasses you are,
By far—
Of innocent lasses you are!
Fanned by a favouring gale,
You'll sail
Over life's treacherous sea
With me,
And as for bad weather,
We'll brave it together,
And you shall creep under my lee,
My wee!
And you shall creep under my lee!
For you are such a smart little craft—
Such a neat little, sweet little craft,
Such a bright little, tight little,
Slight little, light little,
Trim little, prim little craft!
CHORUS. For she is such, etc.
ROSE. My hopes will be blighted, I fear,
My dear;
In a month you'll be going to sea,
Quite free,
And all of my wishes
You'll throw to the fishes
As though they were never to be;
Poor me!
As though they were never to be.
And I shall be left all alone
To moan,
And weep at your cruel deceit,
Complete;
While you'll be asserting
Your freedom by flirting
With every woman you meet,
You cheat—Ah!
With every woman you meet! Ah!
Though I am such a smart little craft—
Such a neat little, sweet little craft,
Such a bright little, tight little,
Slight little, light little,
Trim little, prim little craft!
CHORUS. Though she is such, etc.
(Enter Robin.)
ROB. Soho! pretty one—in my power at last, eh? Know ye
not that I have those within my call who, at my lightest bidding,
would immure ye in an uncomfortable dungeon? (Calling.) What
ho! within there!
RICH. Hold—we are prepared for this (producing a Union
Jack). Here is a flag that none dare defy (all kneel), and while
this glorious rag floats over Rose Maybud's head, the man does
not live who would dare to lay unlicensed hand upon her!
ROB. Foiled—and by a Union Jack! But a time will come,
and then—-
ROSE. Nay, let me plead with him. (To Robin.) Sir Ruthven,
have pity. In my book of etiquette the case of a maiden about to
be wedded to one who unexpectedly turns out to be a baronet with
a curse on him is not considered. Time was when you loved me
madly. Prove that this was no selfish love by according your
consent to my marriage with one who, if he be not you yourself,
is the next best thing—your dearest friend!
BALLAD—ROSE.
In bygone days I had thy love—
Thou hadst my heart.
But Fate, all human vows above,
Our lives did part!
By the old love thou hadst for me—
By the fond heart that beat for thee—
By joys that never now can be,
Grant thou my prayer!
ALL (kneeling). Grant thou her prayer!
ROB. (recitative). Take her—I yield!
ALL. (recitative). Oh, rapture! (All rising.)
CHORUS. Away to the parson we go—
Say we're solicitous very
That he will turn two into one—
Singing hey, derry down derry!
RICH. For she is such a smart little craft-
ROSE. Such a neat little, sweet little craft—
RICH. Such a bright little-
ROSE. Tight little-
RICH. Slight little-
ROSE. Light little-
BOTH. Trim little, prim little craft!
CHORUS. For she is such a smart little craft, etc.
(Exeunt all but Robin.)
ROB. For a week I have fulfilled my accursed doom! I have
duly committed a crime a day! Not a great crime, I trust, but
still, in the eyes of one as strictly regulated as I used to be,
a crime. But will my ghostly ancestors be satisfied with what I
have done, or will they regard it as an unworthy subterfuge?
(Addressing Pictures.) Oh, my forefathers, wallowers in blood,
there came at last a day when, sick of crime, you, each and
every, vowed to sin no more, and so, in agony, called welcome
Death to free you from your cloying guiltiness. Let the sweet
psalm of that repentant hour soften your long-dead hearts, and
tune your souls to mercy on your poor posterity! (Kneeling).
(The stage darkens for a moment. It becomes light again, and the
Pictures are seen to have become animated.)
CHORUS OF FAMILY PORTRAITS.
Painted emblems of a race,
All accurst in days of yore,
Each from his accustomed place
Steps into the world once more.
(The Pictures step from their frames and march round the stage.)
Baronet of Ruddigore,
Last of our accursed line,
Down upon the oaken floor—
Down upon those knees of thine.
Coward, poltroon, shaker, squeamer,
Blockhead, sluggard, dullard, dreamer,
Shirker, shuffler, crawler, creeper,
Sniffler, snuffler, wailer, weeper,
Earthworm, maggot, tadpole, weevil!
Set upon thy course of evil,
Lest the King of Spectre-land
Set on thee his grisly hand!
(The Spectre of Sir Roderic descends from his frame.)
SIR ROD. Beware! beware! beware!
ROB. Gaunt vision, who art thou
That thus, with icy glare
And stern relentless brow,
Appearest, who knows how?
SIR ROD. I am the spectre of the late
Sir Roderic Murgatroyd,
Who comes to warn thee that thy fate
Thou canst not now avoid.
ROB. Alas, poor ghost!
SIR ROD. The pity you
Express for nothing goes:
We spectres are a jollier crew
Than you, perhaps, suppose!
CHORUS. We spectres are a jollier crew
Than you, perhaps, suppose!
SONG—SIR RODERIC.
When the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and the bat in
the moonlight flies,
And inky clouds, like funeral shrouds, sail over the midnight
skies—
When the footpads quail at the night-bird's wail, and black dogs
bay at the moon,
Then is the spectres' holiday—then is the ghosts' high-noon!
CHORUS. Ha! ha!
Then is the ghosts' high-noon!
As the sob of the breeze sweeps over the trees, and the mists lie
low on the fen,
From grey tomb-stones are gathered the bones that once were women
and men,
And away they go, with a mop and a mow, to the revel that ends
too soon,
For cockcrow limits our holiday—the dead of the night's
high-noon!
CHORUS. Ha! ha!
The dead of the night's high-noon!
And then each ghost with his ladye-toast to their churchyard beds
takes flight,
With a kiss, perhaps, on her lantern chaps, and a grisly grim
"good-night";
Till the welcome knell of the midnight bell rings forth its
jolliest tune,
And ushers in our next high holiday—the dead of the night's
high-noon!
CHORUS. Ha! ha!
The dead of the night's high-noon!
Ha! ha! ha! ha!
ROB. I recognize you now—you are the picture that hangs at
the end of the gallery.
SIR ROD. In a bad light. I am.
ROB. Are you considered a good likeness?
SIR ROD. Pretty well. Flattering.
ROB. Because as a work of art you are poor.
SIR ROD. I am crude in colour, but I have only been painted
ten years. In a couple of centuries I shall be an Old Master,
and then you will be sorry you spoke lightly of me.
ROB. And may I ask why you have left your frames?
SIR ROD. It is our duty to see that our successors commit
their daily crimes in a conscientious and workmanlike fashion.
It is our duty to remind you that you are evading the conditions
under which you are permitted to exist.
ROB. Really, I don't know what you'd have. I've only been
a bad baronet a week, and I've committed a crime punctually every
day.
SIR ROD. Let us inquire into this. Monday?
ROB. Monday was a Bank Holiday.
SIR ROD. True. Tuesday?
ROB. On Tuesday I made a false income-tax return.
ALL. Ha! ha!
1ST GHOST. That's nothing.
2ND GHOST. Nothing at all.
3RD GHOST. Everybody does that.
4TH GHOST. It's expected of you.
SIR ROD. Wednesday?
ROB. (melodramatically). On Wednesday I forged a will.
SIR ROD. Whose will?
ROB. My own.
SIR ROD. My good sir, you can't forge your own will!
ROB. Can't I, though! I like that! I did! Besides, if a
man can't forge his own will, whose will can he forge?
1ST GHOST. There's something in that.
2ND GHOST. Yes, it seems reasonable.
3RD GHOST. At first sight it does.
4TH GHOST. Fallacy somewhere, I fancy!
ROB. A man can do what he likes with his own!
SIR ROD. I suppose he can.
ROB. Well, then, he can forge his own will, stoopid! On
Thursday I shot a fox.
1ST GHOST. Hear, hear!
SIR ROD. That's better (addressing Ghosts). Pass the fox,
I think? (They assent.) Yes, pass the fox. Friday?
ROB. On Friday I forged a cheque.
SIR ROD. Whose cheque?
ROB. Old Adam's.
SIR ROD. But Old Adam hasn't a banker.
ROB. I didn't say I forged his banker—I said I forged his
cheque. On Saturday I disinherited my only son.
SIR ROD. But you haven't got a son.
ROB. No—not yet. I disinherited him in advance, to save
time. You see—by this arrangement—he'll be born ready
disinherited.
SIR ROD. I see. But I don't think you can do that.
ROB. My good sir, if I can't disinherit my own unborn son,
whose unborn son can I disinherit?
SIR ROD. Humph! These arguments sound very well, but I
can't help thinking that, if they were reduced to syllogistic
form, they wouldn't hold water. Now quite understand us. We are
foggy, but we don't permit our fogginess to be presumed upon.
Unless you undertake to—well, suppose we say, carry off a lady?
(Addressing Ghosts.) Those who are in favour of his carrying off
a lady? (All hold up their hands except a Bishop.) Those of the
contrary opinion? (Bishop holds up his hands.) Oh, you're never
satisfied! Yes, unless you undertake to carry off a lady at
once—I don't care what lady—any lady—choose your lady—you
perish in inconceivable agonies.
ROB. Carry off a lady? Certainly not, on any account.
I've the greatest respect for ladies, and I wouldn't do anything
of the kind for worlds! No, no. I'm not that kind of baronet, I
assure you! If that's all you've got to say, you'd better go
back to your frames.
SIR ROD. Very good—then let the agonies commence.
(Ghosts make passes. Robin begins to writhe in agony.)
ROB. Oh! Oh! Don't do that! I can't stand it!
SIR ROD. Painful, isn't it? It gets worse by degrees.
ROB. Oh—Oh! Stop a bit! Stop it, will you? I want to
speak.
(Sir Roderic makes signs to Ghosts, who resume their attitudes.)
SIR ROD. Better?
ROB. Yes—better now! Whew!
SIR ROD. Well, do you consent?
ROB. But it's such an ungentlemanly thing to do!
SIR ROD. As you please. (To Ghosts.) Carry on!
ROB. Stop—I can't stand it! I agree! I promise! It
shall be done!
SIR ROD. To-day?
ROB. To-day!
SIR ROD. At once?
ROB. At once! I retract! I apologize! I had no idea it
was anything like that!
CHORUS.
He yields! He answers to our call!
We do not ask for more.
A sturdy fellow, after all,
This latest Ruddigore!
All perish in unheard-of woe
Who dare our wills defy;
We want your pardon, ere we go,
For having agonized you so—
So pardon us—
So pardon us—
So pardon us—
Or die!
ROB. I pardon you!
I pardon you!
ALL. He pardons us-
Hurrah!
(The Ghosts return to their frames.)
CHORUS. Painted emblems of a race,
All accurst in days of yore,
Each to his accustomed place
Steps unwillingly once more!
(By this time the Ghosts have changed to pictures again. Robin
is overcome by emotion.)
(Enter Adam.)
ADAM. My poor master, you are not well—
ROB. Old Adam, it won't do—I've seen 'em—all my
ancestors—they're just gone. They say that I must do something
desperate at once, or perish in horrible agonies. Go—go to
yonder village—carry off a maiden—bring her here at once—any
one—I don't care which—
ADAM. But—
ROB. Not a word, but obey! Fly!
(Exeunt Adam)
RECIT. and SONG—ROBIN.
Away, Remorse!
Compunction, hence!.
Go, Moral Force!
Go, Penitence!
To Virtue's plea
A long farewell—
Propriety,
I ring your knell!
Come, guiltiness of deadliest hue!
Come, desperate deeds of derring-do!
Henceforth all the crimes that I find in the Times.
I've promised to perpetrate daily;
To-morrow I start with a petrified heart,
On a regular course of Old Bailey.
There's confidence tricking, bad coin, pocket-picking,
And several other disgraces—
There's postage-stamp prigging, and then thimble-rigging,
The three-card delusion at races!
Oh! A baronet's rank is exceedingly nice,
But the title's uncommonly dear at the price!
Ye well-to-do squires, who live in the shires,
Where petty distinctions are vital,
Who found Athenaeums and local museums,
With a view to a baronet's title—
Ye butchers and bakers and candlestick makers
Who sneer at all things that are tradey—
Whose middle-class lives are embarrassed by wives
Who long to parade as "My Lady",
Oh! allow me to offer a word of advice,
The title's uncommonly dear at the price!
Ye supple M.P.'s who go down on your knees,
Your precious identity sinking,
And vote black or white as your leaders indite
(Which saves you the trouble of thinking),
For your country's good fame, her repute, or her shame,
You don't care the snuff of a candle—
But you're paid for your game when you're told that your name
Will be graced by a baronet's handle—
Oh! Allow me to give you a word of advice—
The title's uncommonly dear at the price!
(Exit Robin.)
(Enter Despard and Margaret. They are both dressed in sober black
of formal cut, and present a strong contrast to their
appearance in Act I.)
DUET.
DES. I once was a very abandoned person—
MAR. Making the most of evil chances.
DES. Nobody could conceive a worse 'un—
MAR. Even in all the old romances.
DES. I blush for my wild extravagances,
But be so kind
To bear in mind,
MAR. We were the victims of circumstances!
(Dance.)
That is one of our blameless dances.
MAR. I was once an exceedingly odd young lady—
DES. Suffering much from spleen and vapours.
MAR. Clergymen thought my conduct shady—
DES. She didn't spend much upon linen-drapers.
MAR. It certainly entertained the gapers.
My ways were strange
Beyond all range—
DES. Paragraphs got into all the papers.
(Dance.)
DES. We only cut respectable capers.
DES. I've given up all my wild proceedings.
MAR. My taste for a wandering life is waning.
DES. Now I'm a dab at penny readings.
MAR. They are not remarkably entertaining.
DES. A moderate livelihood we're gaining.
MAR. In fact we rule
A National School.
DES. The duties are dull, but I'm not complaining.
(Dance.)
This sort of thing takes a deal of training!
DES. We have been married a week.
MAR. One happy, happy week!
DES. Our new life—
MAR. Is delightful indeed!
DES. So calm!
MAR. So unimpassioned! (Wildly). Master, all this I owe
to you! See, I am no longer wild and untidy. My hair is combed.
My face is washed. My boots fit!
DES. Margaret, don't. Pray restrain yourself. Remember,
you are now a district visitor.
MAR. A gentle district visitor!
DES. You are orderly, methodical, neat; you have your
emotions well under control.
MAR. I have! (Wildly). Master, when I think of all you
have done for me, I fall at your feet. I embrace your ankles. I
hug your knees! (Doing so.)
DES. Hush. This is not well. This is calculated to
provoke remark. Be composed, I beg!
MAR. Ah! you are angry with poor little Mad Margaret!
DES. No, not angry; but a district visitor should learn to
eschew melodrama. Visit the poor, by all means, and give them
tea and barley-water, but don't do it as if you were
administering a bowl of deadly nightshade. It upsets them. Then
when you nurse sick people, and find them not as well as could be
expected, why go into hysterics?
MAR. Why not?
DES. Because it's too jumpy for a sick-room.
MAR. How strange! Oh, Master! Master!—how shall I express
the all-absorbing gratitude that—(about to throw herself at his
feet).
DES. Now! (Warningly).
MAR. Yes, I know, dear—it shan't occur again. (He is
seated—she sits on the ground by him.) Shall I tell you one of
poor Mad Margaret's odd thoughts? Well, then, when I am lying
awake at night, and the pale moonlight streams through the
latticed casement, strange fancies crowd upon my poor mad brain,
and I sometimes think that if we could hit upon some word for you
to use whenever I am about to relapse—some word that teems with
hidden meaning—like "Basingstoke"—it might recall me to my
saner self. For, after all, I am only Mad Margaret! Daft Meg!
Poor Meg! He! he! he!
DES. Poor child, she wanders! But soft—some one
comes—Margaret—pray recollect yourself—Basingstoke, I beg!
Margaret, if you don't Basingstoke at once, I shall be seriously
angry.
MAR. (recovering herself). Basingstoke it is!
DES. Then make it so.
(Enter Robin. He starts on seeing them.)
ROB. Despard! And his young wife! This visit is
unexpected.
MAR. Shall I fly at him? Shall I tear him limb from limb?
Shall I rend him asunder? Say but the word and—
DES. Basingstoke!
MAR. (suddenly demure). Basingstoke it is!
DES. (aside). Then make it so. (Aloud.) My brother—I
call you brother still, despite your horrible profligacy—we have
come to urge you to abandon the evil courses to which you have
committed yourself, and at any cost to become a pure and
blameless ratepayer.
ROB. But I've done no wrong yet.
MAR. (wildly). No wrong! He has done no wrong! Did you
hear that!
DES. Basingstoke!
MAR. (recovering herself). Basingstoke it is!
DES. My brother—I still call you brother, you observe—you
forget that you have been, in the eye of the law, a Bad Baronet
of Ruddigore for ten years—and you are therefore responsible—in
the eye of the law—for all the misdeeds committed by the unhappy
gentleman who occupied your place.
ROB. I see! Bless my heart, I never thought of that! Was
I very bad?
DES. Awful. Wasn't he? (To Margaret).
ROB. And I've been going on like this for how long?
DES. Ten years! Think of all the atrocities you have
committed—by attorney as it were—during that period. Remember
how you trifled with this poor child's affections—how you raised
her hopes on high (don't cry, my love—Basingstoke, you know),
only to trample them in the dust when they were at the very
zenith of their fullness. Oh fie, sir, fie—she trusted you!
ROB. Did she? What a scoundrel I must have been! There,
there—don't cry, my dear (to Margaret, who is sobbing on Robin's
breast), it's all right now. Birmingham, you know—Birmingham—
MAR. (sobbing). It's Ba—Ba—Basingstoke!
ROB. Basingstoke! Of course it is—Basingstoke.
MAR. Then make it so!
ROB. There, there—it's all right—he's married you
now—that is, I've married you (turning to Despard)—I say, which
of us has married her?
DES. Oh, I've married her.
ROB. (aside). Oh, I'm glad of that. (To Margaret.) Yes,
he's married you now (passing her over to Despard), and anything
more disreputable than my conduct seems to have been I've never
even heard of. But my mind is made up—I will defy my ancestors.
I will refuse to obey their behests, thus, by courting death,
atone in some degree for the infamy of my career!
MAR. I knew it—I knew it—God bless
you—(Hysterically).
DES. Basingstoke!
MAR. Basingstoke it is! (Recovers herself.)
PATTER-TRIO.
ROBIN, DESPARD, and MARGARET.
ROB. My eyes are fully open to my awful situation—
I shall go at once to Roderic and make him an oration.
I shall tell him I've recovered my forgotten moral senses,
And I don't care twopence-halfpenny for any consequences.
Now I do not want to perish by the sword or by the dagger,
But a martyr may indulge a little pardonable swagger,
And a word or two of compliment my vanity would flatter,
But I've got to die tomorrow, so it really doesn't matter!
DES. So it really doesn't matter—
MAR. So it really doesn't matter—
ALL. So it really doesn't matter, matter, matter, matter, matter!
MAR. If were not a little mad and generally silly
I should give you my advice upon the subject, willy-nilly;
I should show you in a moment how to grapple with the
question,
And you'd really be astonished at the force of my
suggestion.
On the subject I shall write you a most valuable letter,
Full of excellent suggestions when I feel a little better,
But at present I'm afraid I am as mad as any hatter,
So I'll keep 'em to myself, for my opinion doesn't matter!
DES. Her opinion doesn't matter—
ROB. Her opinion doesn't matter—
ALL. Her opinion doesn't matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter!
DES. If I had been so lucky as to have a steady brother
Who could talk to me as we are talking now to one another—
Who could give me good advice when he discovered I was
erring
(Which is just the very favour which on you I am
conferring),
My story would have made a rather interesting idyll,
And I might have lived and died a very decent indiwiddle.
This particularly rapid, unintelligible patter
Isn't generally heard, and if it is it doesn't matter!
ROB. If it is it doesn't matter—
MAR. If it is it doesn't matter—
ALL. If it is it doesn't matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter!
(Exeunt Despard and Margaret.)
(Enter Adam.)
ADAM (guiltily). Master—the deed is done!
ROB. What deed?
ADAM. She is here—alone, unprotected—
ROB. Who?
ADAM. The maiden. I've carried her off—I had a hard task,
for she fought like a tiger-cat!
ROB. Great heaven, I had forgotten her! I had hoped to
have died unspotted by crime, but I am foiled again—and by a
tiger-cat! Produce her—and leave us!
(Adam introduces Dame Hannah, very much excited, and exits.)
ROB. Dame Hannah! This is—this is not what I expected.
HAN. Well, sir, and what would you with me? Oh, you have
begun bravely—bravely indeed! Unappalled by the calm dignity of
blameless womanhood, your minion has torn me from my spotless
home, and dragged me, blindfold and shrieking, through hedges,
over stiles, and across a very difficult country, and left me,
helpless and trembling, at your mercy! Yet not helpless, coward
sir, for approach one step—nay, but the twentieth part of one
poor inch—and this poniard (produces a very small dagger) shall
teach ye what it is to lay unholy hands on old Stephen Trusty's
daughter!
ROB. Madam, I am extremely sorry for this. It is not at
all what I intended—anything more correct—more deeply
respectful than my intentions towards you, it would be impossible
for any one—however particular—to desire.
HAN. Bah, I am not to be tricked by smooth words,
hypocrite! But be warned in time, for there are, without, a
hundred gallant hearts whose trusty blades would hack him limb
from limb who dared to lay unholy hands on old Stephen Trusty's
daughter!
ROB. And this is what it is to embark upon a career of
unlicensed pleasure!
(Dame Hannah, who has taken a formidable dagger from one of the
armed figures, throws her small dagger to Robin.)
HAN. Harkye, miscreant, you have secured me, and I am your
poor prisoner; but if you think I cannot take care of myself you
are very much mistaken. Now then, it's one to one, and let the
best man win!
(Making for him.)
ROB. (in an agony of terror). Don't! don't look at me like
that! I can't bear it! Roderic! Uncle! Save me!
(Sir Roderic enters, from his picture. He comes down the stage.)
ROD. What is the matter? Have you carried her off?
ROB. I have—she is there—look at her—she terrifies me!
ROD. (looking at Hannah). Little Nannikin!
HAN. (amazed). Roddy-doddy!
ROD. My own old love! Why, how came you here?
HAN. This brute—he carried me off! Bodily! But I'll show
him! (about to rush at Robin).
ROD. Stop! (To Rob.) What do you mean by carrying off
this lady? Are you aware that once upon a time she was engaged
to be married to me? I'm very angry—very angry indeed.
ROB. Now I hope this will be a lesson to you in future not
to—
ROD. Hold your tongue, sir.
ROB. Yes, uncle.
ROD. Have you given him any encouragement?
HAN. (to Rob.). Have I given you any encouragement?
Frankly now, have I?
ROB. No. Frankly, you have not. Anything more
scrupulously correct than your conduct, it would be impossible to
desire.
ROD. You go away.
ROB. Yes, uncle. (Exit Robin.)
ROD. This is a strange meeting after so many years!
HAN. Very. I thought you were dead.
ROD. I am. I died ten years ago.
HAN. And are you pretty comfortable?
ROD. Pretty well—that is—yes, pretty well.
HAN. You don't deserve to be, for I loved you all the
while, dear; and it made me dreadfully unhappy to hear of all
your goings-on, you bad, bad boy!
BALLAD—DAME HANNAH.
There grew a little flower
'Neath a great oak tree:
When the tempest 'gan to lower
Little heeded she:
No need had she to cower,
For she dreaded not its power—
She was happy in the bower
Of her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower
And the great oak tree!
BOTH. Sing hey,
Lackaday! etc.
When she found that he was fickle,
Was that great oak tree,
She was in a pretty pickle,
As she well might be—
But his gallantries were mickle,
For Death followed with his sickle,
And her tears began to trickle
For her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday! etc.
BOTH. Sing hey,
Lackaday! etc.
Said she, "He loved me never,
Did that great oak tree,
But I'm neither rich nor clever,
And so why should he?
But though fate our fortunes sever,
To be constant I'll endeavour,
Aye, for ever and for ever,
To my great oak tree!'
Sing hey,
Lackaday! etc.
BOTH. Sing hey,
Lackaday! etc.
(Falls weeping on Sir Roderic's bosom.)
(Enter Robin, excitedly, followed by all the characters and Chorus
of Bridesmaids.)
ROB. Stop a bit—both of you.
ROD. This intrusion is unmannerly.
HAN. I'm surprised at you.
ROB. I can't stop to apologize—an idea has just occurred
to me. A Baronet of Ruddigore can only die through refusing to
commit his daily crime.
ROD. No doubt.
ROB. Therefore, to refuse to commit a daily crime is
tantamount to suicide!
ROD. It would seem so.
ROB. But suicide is, itself, a crime—and so, by your own
showing, you ought never to have died at all!
ROD. I see—I understand! Then I'm practically alive!
ROB. Undoubtedly! (Sir Roderic embraces Dame Hannah.) Rose,
when you believed that I was a simple farmer, I believe you loved
me?
ROSE. Madly, passionately!
ROB. But when I became a bad baronet, you very properly
loved Richard instead?
ROSE. Passionately, madly!
ROB. But if I should turn out not to be a bad baronet after
all, how would you love me then?
ROSE. Madly, passionately!
ROB. As before?
ROSE. Why, of course.
ROB. My darling! (They embrace.)
RICH. Here, I say, belay!
ROSE. Oh, sir, belay, if it's absolutely necessary!
ROB. Belay? Certainly not!
FINALE
ROB. Having been a wicked baronet a week
Once again a modest livelihood I seek.
Agricultural employment
Is to me a keen enjoyment,
For I'm naturally diffident and meek!
ROSE. When a man has been a naughty baronet,
And expresses deep repentance and regret,
You should help him, if you're able,
Like the mousie in the fable,
That's the teaching of my Book of Etiquette.
CHORUS. That's the teaching in her Book of Etiquette.
RICH. If you ask me why I do not pipe my eye,
Like an honest British sailor, I reply,
That with Zorah for my missis,
There'll be bread and cheese and kisses,
Which is just the sort of ration I enjye!
CHORUS. Which is just the sort of ration you enjye!
DES. and MAR. Prompted by a keen desire to evoke
All the blessed calm of matrimony's yoke,
We shall toddle off tomorrow,
From this scene of sin and sorrow,
For to settle in the town of Basingstoke!
ALL. For happy the lily
That's kissed by the bee;
And, sipping tranquilly,
Quite happy is he;
And happy the filly
That neighs in her pride;
But happier than any,
A pound to a penny,
A lover is, when he
Embraces his bride!
CURTAIN
THE SORCERER
Libretto by William S. Gilbert
Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, an Elderly Baronet
Alexis, of the Grenadier Guards—His Son
Dr. Daly, Vicar of Ploverleigh
John Wellington Wells, of J. W. Wells & Co., Family Sorcerers
Lady Sangazure, a Lady of Ancient Lineage
Aline, Her Daughter—betrothed to Alexis
Mrs. Partlet, a Pew-Opener
Constance, her Daughter
Chorus of Villagers
ACT I—Grounds of Sir Marmaduke's Mansion, Mid-day
(Twelve hours are supposed to elapse between Acts I and II)
ACT II— Grounds of Sir Marmaduke's Mansion, Midnight
ACT I.
SCENE—Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's Elizabethan Mansion, mid-day.
CHORUS OF VILLAGERS
Ring forth, ye bells,
With clarion sound—
Forget your knells,
For joys abound.
Forget your notes
Of mournful lay,
And from your throats
Pour joy to-day.
For to-day young Alexis—young Alexis Pointdextre
Is betrothed to Aline—to Aline Sangazure,
And that pride of his sex is—of his sex is to be next her
At the feast on the green—on the green, oh, be sure!
Ring forth, ye bells etc.
(Exeunt the men
into house.)
(Enter Mrs. Partlet with Constance, her daughter)
RECITATIVE
MRS. P. Constance, my daughter, why this strange depression?
The village rings with seasonable joy,
Because the young and amiable Alexis,
Heir to the great Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre,
Is plighted to Aline, the only daughter
Of Annabella, Lady Sangazure.
You, you alone are sad and out of spirits;
What is the reason? Speak, my daughter, speak!
CON. Oh, mother, do not ask! If my complexion
From red to white should change in quick succession,
And then from white to red, oh, take no notice!
If my poor limbs should tremble with emotion,
Pay no attention, mother—it is nothing!
If long and deep-drawn sighs I chance to utter,
Oh, heed them not, their cause must ne'er be known!
Mrs. Partlet motions to Chorus to leave her with Constance. Exeunt
ladies of Chorus.
ARIA—CONSTANCE
When he is here,
I sigh with pleasure—
When he is gone,
I sigh with grief.
My hopeless fear
No soul can measure—
His love alone
Can give my aching heart relief!
When he is cold,
I weep for sorrow—
When he is kind,
I weep for joy.
My grief untold
Knows no to-morrow—
My woe can find
No hope, no solace, no alloy!
MRS. P. Come, tell me all about it! Do not fear—
I, too, have loved; but that was long ago!
Who is the object of your young affections?
CONST. Hush, mother! He is here! (Looking off)
Enter Dr. Daly. He is pensive and does not see them
MRS. P. (amazed) Our reverend vicar!
CONST. Oh, pity me, my heart is almost broken!
MRS. P. My child, be comforted. To such an union
I shall not offer any opposition.
Take him—he's yours! May you and he be happy!
CONST. But, mother dear, he is not yours to give!
MRS. P. That's true, indeed!
CONST. He might object!
MRS. P. He might.
But come—take heart—I'll probe him on the subject.
Be comforted—leave this affair to me.
(They
withdraw.)
RECITATIVE—DR. DALY
The air is charged with amatory numbers—
Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays.
Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbers
The aching memory of the old, old days?
BALLAD
Time was when Love and I were well acquainted.
Time was when we walked ever hand in hand.
A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted,
None better-loved than I in all the land!
Time was, when maidens of the noblest station,
Forsaking even military men,
Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration—
Ah me, I was a fair young curate then!
Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled;
Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear;
Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled;
And when I coughed all thought the end was near!
I had no care—no jealous doubts hung o'er me—
For I was loved beyond all other men.
Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me—
Ah me, I was a pale young curate them!
(At the conclusion of the ballad, Mrs. Partlet comes forward with
Constance.)
MRS. P. Good day, reverend sir.
DR. D. Ah, good Mrs. Partlet, I am glad to see you. And
your little daughter, Constance! Why, she is quite a little
woman, I declare!
CONST. (aside) Oh, mother, I cannot speak to him!
MRS. P. Yes, reverend sir, she is nearly eighteen, and as
good a girl as ever stepped. (Aside to Dr. Daly) Ah, sir, I'm
afraid I shall soon lose her!
DR. D. (aside to Mrs. Partlet) Dear me, you pain me very
much. Is she delicate?
MRS. P. Oh no, sir—I don't mean that—but young girls look
to get married.
DR. D. Oh, I take you. To be sure. But there's plenty of
time for that. Four or five years hence, Mrs. Partlet, four or
five years hence. But when the time does come, I shall have much
pleasure in marrying her myself—
CONST. (aside) Oh, mother!
DR. D. To some strapping young fellow in her own rank of
life.
CONST. (in tears) He does not love me!
MRS. P. I have often wondered, reverend sir (if you'll
excuse the liberty), that you have never married.
DR. D. (aside) Be still, my fluttering heart!
MRS. P. A clergyman's wife does so much good in a village.
besides that, you are not as young as you were, and before very
long you will want somebody to nurse you, and look after your
little comforts.
DR. D. Mrs. Partlet, there is much truth in what you say.
I am indeed getting on in years, and a helpmate would cheer my
declining days. Time was when it might have been; but I have
left it too long—I am an old fogy, now, am I not, my dear? (to
Constance)—a very old fogy, indeed. Ha! ha! No, Mrs. Partlet,
my mind is quite made up. I shall live and die a solitary old
bachelor.
CONST. Oh, mother, mother! (Sobs on Mrs. Partlet's bosom)
MRS. P. Come, come, dear one, don't fret. At a more
fitting time we will try again—we will try again.
(Exeunt Mrs. Partlet and
Constance.)
DR. D. (looking after them) Poor little girl! I'm afraid
she has something on her mind. She is rather comely. Time was
when this old heart would have throbbed in double-time at the
sight of such a fairy form! But tush! I am puling! Here comes
the young Alexis with his proud and happy father. Let me dry
this tell-tale tear!
Enter Sir Marmaduke and Alexis
RECITATIVE
DR. D. Sir Marmaduke—my dear young friend, Alexis—
On this most happy, most auspicious plighting—
Permit me as a true old friend to tender
My best, my very best congratulations!
SIR M. Sir, you are most obleeging!
ALEX. Dr. Daly
My dear old tutor, and my valued pastor,
I thank you from the bottom of my heart!
(Spoken
through music)
DR. D. May fortune bless you! may the middle distance
Of your young life be pleasant as the foreground—
The joyous foreground! and, when you have reached it,
May that which now is the far-off horizon
(But which will then become the middle distance),
In fruitful promise be exceeded only
By that which will have opened, in the meantime,
Into a new and glorious horizon!
SIR M. Dear Sir, that is an excellent example
Of an old school of stately compliment
To which I have, through life, been much addicted.
Will you obleege me with a copy of it,
In clerkly manuscript, that I myself
May use it on appropriate occasions?
DR. D. Sir, you shall have a fairly-written copy
Ere Sol has sunk into his western slumbers!
(Exit
Dr. Daly)
SIR M. (to Alexis, who is in a reverie) Come, come, my
son—your fiancee will be here in five minutes. Rouse yourself
to receive her.
ALEXIS Oh rapture!
SIR M. Yes, you are a fortunate young fellow, and I will
not disguise from you that this union with the House of Sangazure
realizes my fondest wishes. Aline is rich, and she comes of a
sufficiently old family, for she is the seven thousand and
thirty-seventh in direct descent from Helen of Troy. True, there
was a blot on the escutcheon of that lady—that affair with
Paris—but where is the family, other than my own, in which there
is no flaw? You are a lucky fellow, sir—a very lucky fellow!
ALEXIS Father, I am welling over with limpid joy! No
sicklying taint of sorrow overlies the lucid lake of liquid love,
upon which, hand in hand, Aline and I are to float into eternity!
SIR M. Alexis, I desire that of your love for this young
lady you do not speak so openly. You are always singing ballads
in praise of her beauty, and you expect the very menials who wait
behind your chair to chorus your ecstasies. It is not delicate.
ALEXIS Father, a man who loves as I love—
SIR M. Pooh pooh, sir! fifty years ago I madly loved your
future mother-in-law, the Lady Sangazure, and I have reason to
believe that she returned my love. But were we guilty of the
indelicacy of publicly rushing into each other's arms,
exclaiming—
"Oh, my adored one!" "Beloved boy!"
"Ecstatic rapture!" "Unmingled joy!"
which seems to be the modern fashion of love-making? No! it was
"Madam, I trust you are in the enjoyment of good health"—"Sir,
you are vastly polite, I protest I am mighty well"—and so forth.
Much more delicate—much more respectful. But see—Aline
approaches—let us retire, that she may compose herself for the
interesting ceremony in which she is to play so important a part.
(Exeunt Sir Marmaduke and
Alexis.)
(Enter Aline on terrace, preceded by Chorus of Girls.)
CHORUS OF GIRLS
With heart and with voice
Let us welcome this mating:
To the youth of her choice,
With a heart palpitating,
Comes the lovely Aline!
May their love never cloy!
May their bliss me unbounded!
With a halo of joy
May their lives be surrounded!
Heaven bless our Aline!
RECITATIVE—ALINE.
My kindly friends, I thank you for this greeting
And as you wish me every earthly joy,
I trust your wishes may have quick fulfillment!
ARIA—ALINE.
Oh, happy young heart!
Comes thy young lord a-wooing
With joy in his eyes,
And pride in his breast—
Make much of thy prize,
For he is the best
That ever came a-suing.
Yet—yet we must part,
Young heart!
Yet—yet we must part!
Oh, merry young heart,
Bright are the days of thy wooing!
But happier far
The days untried—
No sorrow can mar,
When love has tied
The knot there's no undoing.
Then, never to part,
Young heart!
Then, never to part!
Enter Lady Sangazure
RECITATIVE—LADY S.
My child, I join in these congratulations:
Heed not the tear that dims this aged eye!
Old memories crowd upon me. Though I sorrow,
'Tis for myself, Aline, and not for thee!
Enter Alexis, preceded by Chorus of Men
CHORUS OF MEN AND WOMEN
With heart and with voice
Let us welcome this mating;
To the maid of his choice,
With a heart palpitating,
Comes Alexis, the brave!.
(Sir Marmaduke enters. Lady Sangazure and he exhibit signs of
strong
emotion at the sight of each other which they endeavor to
repress. Alexis and Aline rush into each other's arms.)
RECITATIVE
ALEXIS Oh, my adored one!
ALINE Beloved boy!
ALEXIS Ecstatic rapture!
ALINE Unmingled joy!
(They
retire up.)
DUET—SIR MARMADUKE and LADY SANGAZURE
SIR M. (with stately courtesy)
Welcome joy, adieu to sadness!
As Aurora gilds the day,
So those eyes, twin orbs of gladness,
Chase the clouds of care away.
Irresistible incentive
Bids me humbly kiss your hand;
I'm your service most attentive—
Most attentive to command!
(Aside with frantic vehemence)
Wild with adoration!
Mad with fascination!
To indulge my lamentation
No occasion do I miss!
Goaded to distraction
By maddening inaction,
I find some satisfaction
In apostophe like this:
"Sangazure immortal,
"Sangazure divine,
"Welcome to my portal,
"Angel, oh be mine!"
(Aloud with much ceremony)
Irresistible incentive
Bids me humbly kiss your hand;
I'm your servant most attentive—
Most attentive to command!
LADY S. Sir, I thank you most politely
For your grateful courtesee;
Compliment more true and knightly
Never yet was paid to me!
Chivalry is an ingredient
Sadly lacking in our land—
Sir, I am your most obedient,
Most obedient to command!
(Aside and with great vehemence)
Wild with adoration!
Mad with fascination!
To indulge my lamentation
No occasion do I miss!
Goaded to distraction
By maddening inaction,
I find some satisfaction
In apostophe like this:
"Marmaduke immortal,
"Marmaduke divine,
"Take me to thy portal,
"Loved one, oh be mine!"
(Aloud with much ceremony)
Chivalry is an ingredient
Sadly lacking in our land;
Sir, I am your most obedient,
Most obedient to command!
(During this the Notary has entered, with marriage contract.)
RECITATIVE—NOTARY
All is prepared for sealing and for signing,
The contract has been drafted as agreed;
Approach the table, oh, ye lovers pining,
With hand and seal come execute the deed!
(Alexis and Aline advance and sign, Alexis supported by Sir
Marmaduke,
Aline by her Mother.)
CHORUS
See they sign, without a quiver, it—
Then to seal proceed.
They deliver it—they deliver it
As their Act and Deed!
ALEX. I deliver it—I deliver it
As my Act and Deed!.
ALINE. I deliver it—I deliver it.
As my Act and Deed!
CHO. With heart and with voice
Let us welcome this mating;
Leave them here to rejoice,
With true love palpitating,
Alexis the brave,
And the lovely Aline!
(Exeunt all but Alexis
and Aline.)
ALEXIS At last we are alone! My darling, you are now
irrevocably betrothed to me. Are you not very, very happy?
ALINE Oh, Alexis, can you doubt it? Do I not love you
beyond all on earth, and am I not beloved in return? Is not true
love, faithfully given and faithfully returned, the source of
every earthly joy?
ALEXIS Of that there can be no doubt. Oh, that the world
could be persuaded of the truth of that maxim! Oh, that the
world would break down the artificial barriers of rank, wealth,
education, age, beauty, habits, taste, and temper, and recognize
the glorious principle, that in marriage alone is to be found the
panacea for every ill!
ALINE Continue to preach that sweet doctrine, and you will
succeed, oh, evangel of true happiness!
ALEXIS I hope so, but as yet the cause progresses but
slowly. Still I have made some converts to the principle, that
men and women should be coupled in matrimony without distinction
of rank. I have lectured on the subject at Mechanics'
Institutes, and the mechanics were unanimous in favour of my
views. I have preached in workhouses, beershops, and Lunatic
Asylums, and I have been received with enthusiasm. I have
addressed navvies on the advantages that would accrue to them if
they married wealthy ladies of rank, and not a navvy dissented!
ALINE Noble fellows! And yet there are those who hold that
the uneducated classes are not open to argument! And what do the
countesses say?
ALEXIS Why, at present, it can't be denied, the aristocracy
hold aloof.
ALINE Ah, the working man is the true Intelligence after
all!
ALEXIS He is a noble creature when he is quite sober. Yes,
Aline, true happiness comes of true love, and true love should be
independent of external influences. It should live upon itself
and by itself—in itself love should live for love alone!
BALLAD—ALEXIS
Love feeds on many kinds of food, I know,
Some love for rank, some for duty:
Some give their hearts away for empty show,
And others for youth and beauty.
To love for money all the world is prone:
Some love themselves, and live all lonely:
Give me the love that loves for love alone—
I love that love—I love it only!
What man for any other joy can thirst,
Whose loving wife adores him duly?
Want, misery, and care may do their worst,
If loving woman loves you truly.
A lover's thoughts are ever with his own—
None truly loved is ever lonely:
Give me the love that loves for love alone—
I love that love—I love it only!
ALINE Oh, Alexis, those are noble principles!
ALEXIS Yes, Aline, and I am going to take a desperate step
in support of them. Have you ever heard of the firm of J. W.
Wells & Co., the old-established Family Sorcerers in St. Mary
Axe?
ALINE I have seen their advertisement.
ALEXIS They have invented a philtre, which, if report may
be believed, is simply infallible. I intend to distribute it
through the village, and within half an hour of my doing so there
will not be an adult in the place who will not have learnt the
secret of pure and lasting happiness. What do you say to that?
ALINE Well, dear, of course a filter is a very useful thing
in a house; but still I don't quite see that it is the sort of
thing that places its possessor on the very pinnacle of earthly
joy.
ALEXIS Aline, you misunderstand me. I didn't say a
filter—I said a philtre.
ALINE (alarmed) You don't mean a love-potion?
ALEXIS On the contrary—I do mean a love potion.
ALINE Oh, Alexis! I don't think it would be right. I
don't indeed. And then—a real magician! Oh, it would be
downright wicked.
ALEXIS Aline, is it, or is it not, a laudable object to
steep the whole village up to its lips in love, and to couple
them in matrimony without distinction of age, rank, or fortune?
ALINE Unquestionably, but—
ALEXIS Then unpleasant as it must be to have recourse to
supernatural aid, I must nevertheless pocket my aversion, in
deference to the great and good end I have in view. (Calling)
Hercules.
(Enter a Page from tent)
PAGE Yes, sir.
ALEXIS Is Mr. Wells there?
PAGE He's in the tent, sir—refreshing.
ALEXIS Ask him to be so good as to step this way.
PAGE Yes, sir.
(Exit Page)
ALINE Oh, but, Alexis! A real Sorcerer! Oh, I shall be
frightened to death!
ALEXIS I trust my Aline will not yield to fear while the
strong right arm of her Alexis is here to protect her.
ALINE It's nonsense, dear, to talk of your protecting me
with your strong right arm, in face of the fact that this Family
Sorcerer could change me into a guinea-pig before you could turn
round.
ALEXIS He could change you into a guinea-pig, no doubt, but
it is most unlikely that he would take such a liberty. It's a
most respectable firm, and I am sure he would never be guilty of
so untradesmanlike an act.
(Enter Mr. Wells from tent)
WELLS Good day, sir. (Aline much terrified.)
ALEXIS Good day—I believe you are a Sorcerer.
WELLS Yes, sir, we practice Necromancy in all its branches.
We've a choice assortment of wishing-caps, divining-rods,
amulets, charms, and counter-charms. We can cast you a nativity
at a low figure, and we have a horoscope at three-and-six that we
can guarantee. Our Abudah chests, each containing a patent Hag
who comes out and prophesies disasters, with spring complete, are
strongly recommended. Our Aladdin lamps are very chaste, and our
Prophetic Tablets, foretelling everything—from a change of
Ministry down to a rise in Unified—are much enquired for. Our
penny Curse—one of the cheapest things in the trade—is
considered infallible. We have some very superior Blessings,
too, but they're very little asked for. We've only sold one
since Christmas—to a gentleman who bought it to send to his
mother-in-law—but it turned out that he was afflicted in the
head, and it's been returned on our hands. But our sale of penny
Curses, especially on Saturday nights, is tremendous. We can't
turn 'em out fast enough.
SONG—MR. WELLS
Oh! my name is John Wellington Wells,
I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
In blessings and curses
And ever-filled purses,
In prophecies, witches, and knells.
If you want a proud foe to "make tracks"—
If you'd melt a rich uncle in wax—
You've but to look in
On the resident Djinn,
Number seventy, Simmery Axe!
We've a first-class assortment of magic;
And for raising a posthumous shade
With effects that are comic or tragic,
There's no cheaper house in the trade.
Love-philtre—we've quantities of it;
And for knowledge if any one burns,
We keep an extremely small prophet, a prophet
Who brings us unbounded returns:
For he can prophesy
With a wink of his eye,
Peep with security
Into futurity,
Sum up your history,
Clear up a mystery,
Humour proclivity
For a nativity—for a nativity;
With mirrors so magical,
Tetrapods tragical,
Bogies spectacular,
Answers oracular,
Facts astronomical,
Solemn or comical,
And, if you want it, he
Makes a reduction on taking a quantity!
Oh!
If any one anything lacks,
He'll find it all ready in stacks,
If he'll only look in
On the resident Djinn,
Number seventy, Simmery Axe!
He can raise you hosts
Of ghosts,
And that without reflectors;
And creepy things
With wings,
And gaunt and grisly spectres.
He can fill you crowds
Of shrouds,
And horrify you vastly;
He can rack your brains
With chains,
And gibberings grim and ghastly.
And then, if you plan it, he
Changes organity,
With an urbanity,
Full of Satanity,
Vexes humanity
With an inanity
Fatal to vanity—
Driving your foes to the verge of insanity!
Barring tautology,
In demonology,
'Lectro-biology,
Mystic nosology,
Spirit philology,
High-class astrology,
Such is his knowledge, he
Isn't the man to require an apology!
Oh!
My name is John Wellington Wells,
I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
In blessings and curses
And ever-filled purses,
In prophecies, witches, and knells.
If any one anything lacks,
He'll find it all ready in stacks,
If he'll only look in
On the resident Djinn,
Number seventy, Simmery Axe!
ALEXIS I have sent for you to consult you on a very
important matter. I believe you advertise a Patent Oxy-Hydrogen
Love-at-first-sight Philtre?
WELLS Sir, it is our leading article. (Producing a phial.)
ALEXIS Now I want to know if you can confidently guarantee
it as possessing all the qualities you claim for it in your
advertisement?
WELLS Sir, we are not in the habit of puffing our goods.
Ours is an old-established house with a large family connection,
and every assurance held out in the advertisement is fully
realized. (Hurt)
ALINE (aside) Oh, Alexis, don't offend him! He'll change
us into something dreadful—I know he will!
ALEXIS I am anxious from purely philanthropical motives to
distribute this philtre, secretly, among the inhabitants of this
village. I shall of course require a quantity. How do you sell
it?
WELLS In buying a quantity, sir, we should strongly advise
your taking it in the wood, and drawing it off as you happen to
want it. We have it in four-and-a-half and nine gallon
casks—also in pipes and hogsheads for laying down, and we deduct
10 per cent from prompt cash.
ALEXIS I should mention that I am a Member of the Army and
Navy Stores.
WELLS In that case we deduct 25 percent.
ALEXIS Aline, the villagers will assemble to carouse in a
few minutes. Go and fetch the tea-pot.
ALINE But, Alexis—
ALEXIS My dear, you must obey me, if you please. Go and
fetch the teapot.
ALINE (going) I'm sure Dr. Daly would disapprove of it!
(Exit Aline.)
ALEXIS And how soon does it take effect?
WELLS In twelve hours. Whoever drinks of it loses
consciousness for that period, and on waking falls in love, as a
matter of course, with the first lady he meets who has also
tasted it, and his affection is at once returned. One trial will
prove the fact.
Enter Aline with large tea-pot
ALEXIS Good: then, Mr. Wells, I shall feel obliged if you
will at once pour as much philtre into this teapot as will
suffice to affect the whole village.
ALINE But bless me, Alexis, many of the villages are
married people!
WELLS Madam, this philtre is compounded on the strictest
principles. On married people it has no effect whatever. But
are you quite sure that you have nerve enough to carry you
through the fearful ordeal?
ALEXIS In the good cause I fear nothing.
WELLS Very good, then, we will proceed at once to the
Incantation.
The stage grows dark.
INCANTATION
WELLS. Sprites of earth and air—
Fiends of flame and fire—
Demon souls,
Come here in shoals,
This dreaded deed inspire!
Appear, appear, appear.
MALE VOICES. Good master, we are here!
WELLS. Noisome hags of night—
Imps of deadly shade—
Pallid ghosts,
Arise in hosts,
And lend me all your aid.
Appear, appear, appear!
FEMALE VOICES. Good master, we are here!
ALEXIS. (aside) Hark, they assemble,
These fiends of the night!
ALINE. (aside) Oh Alexis, I tremble,
Seek safety in flight!
ARIA - ALINE
Let us fly to a far-off land,
Where peace and plenty dwell—
Where the sigh of the silver strand
Is echoed in every shell
To the joy that land will give,
On the wings of Love we'll fly;
In innocence, there to live—
In innocence there to die!
CHORUS OF SPIRITS.
Too late—too late
It may not be!
That happy fate
Is not for (me/thee)!
ALEXIS, ALINE, and MR. W.
Too late—too late,
That may not be!
That happy fate,
Is not for thee!
MR. WELLS
Now shrivelled hags, with poison bags,
Discharge your loathsome loads!
Spit flame and fire, unholy choir!
Belch forth your venom, toads!
Ye demons fell, with yelp and yell,
Shed curses far afield—
Ye fiends of night, your filthy blight
In noisome plenty yield!
WELLS (pouring phial into tea-pot—flash)
Number One!
CHORUS It is done!
WELLS (same business) Number Two! (flash)
CHORUS One too few!
WELLS Number Three! (flash)
CHORUS Set us free!
Set us free-our work is done
Ha! ha! ha!
Set us free—our course is run!
Ha! ha! ha!
ALINE AND ALEXIS (aside)
Let us fly to a far-off land,
Where peace and plenty dwell—
Where the sigh of the silver strand
Is echoed in every shell.
CHORUS OF FIENDS.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
(Stage grows light. Mr. Wells beckons villagers. Enter villagers
and all the dramatis personae, dancing joyously. Mrs. Partlet and
Mr. Wells then distribute tea-cups.)
CHORUS.
Now to the banquet we press;
Now for the eggs, the ham;
Now for the mustard and cress,
Now for the strawberry jam!
Now for the tea of our host,
Now for the rollicking bun,
Now for the muffin and toast,
Now for the gay Sally Lunn!
WOMEN. The eggs and the ham, and the strawberry jam!
MEN. The rollicking bun, and the gay Sally Lunn!
The rollicking, rollicking bun!
RECITATIVE—SIR MARMADUKE
Be happy all—the feast is spread before ye;
Fear nothing, but enjoy yourselves, I pray!
Eat, aye, and drink—be merry, I implore ye,
For once let thoughtless Folly rule the day.
TEA-CUP BRINDISI
Eat, drink, and be gay,
Banish all worry and sorrow,
Laugh gaily to-day,
Weep, if you're sorry, to-morrow!
Come, pass the cup around—
I will go bail for the liquor;
It's strong, I'll be bound,
For it was brewed by the vicar!
CHORUS.
None so knowing as he
At brewing a jorum of tea,
Ha! ha!
A pretty stiff jorum of tea.
TRIO—WELLS, ALINE, and ALEXIS. (aside)
See—see—they drink—
All thoughts unheeding,
The tea-cups clink,
They are exceeding!
Their hearts will melt
In half-an-hour—
Then will be felt
The potions power!
(During this verse Constance has brought a small tea-pot, kettle,
caddy, and cosy to Dr. Daly. He makes tea scientifically.)
BRINDISI, 2nd Verse—DR. DALY (with the tea-pot)
Pain, trouble, and care,
Misery, heart-ache, and worry,
Quick, out of your lair!
Get you gone in a hurry!
Toil, sorrow, and plot,
Fly away quicker and quicker—
Three spoons in the pot—
That is the brew of your vicar!
CHORUS
None so cunning as he
At brewing a jorum of tea,
Ha! ha!
A pretty stiff jorum of tea!
ENSEMBLE—ALEXIS and ALINE (aside)
Oh love, true love—unworldly, abiding!
Source of all pleasure—true fountain of joy,—
Oh love, true love—divinely confiding,
Exquisite treasure that knows no alloy,—
Oh love, true love, rich harvest of gladness,
Peace-bearing tillage—great garner of bliss,—
Oh love, true love, look down on our sadness —
Dwell in this village—oh, hear us in this!
(It becomes evident by the strange conduct of the characters that
the charm is working. All rub their eyes, and stagger about the
stage as if under the influence of a narcotic.)
TUTTI (aside) ALEXIS, MR. WELLS and ALINE
Oh, marvellous illusion! A marvellous illusion!
Oh, terrible surprise! A terrible surprise
What is this strange confusion Excites a strange confusion
That veils my aching eyes? Within their aching eyes—
I must regain my senses, They must regain their senses,
Restoring Reason's law, Restoring Reason's law,
Or fearful inferences Or fearful inferences
Society will draw! Society will draw!
(Those who have partaken of the philtre struggle in vain against
its effects, and, at the end of the chorus, fall insensible on
the stage.)
END OF ACT I
ACT II
Scene—Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's mansion by moonlight. All the
peasantry are discovered asleep on the ground, as at the end of
Act I.
Enter Mr. Wells, on tiptoe, followed by Alexis and Aline. Mr. Wells
carries a dark lantern.
TRIO—ALEXIS, ALINE, and MR. WELLS
'Tis twelve, I think,
And at this mystic hour
The magic drink
Should manifest its power.
Oh, slumbering forms,
How little ye have guessed
That fire that warms
Each apathetic breast!
ALEX. But stay, my father is not here!
ALINE. And pray where is my mother dear?
MR. WELLS. I did not think it meet to see
A dame of lengthy pedigree,
A Baronet and K.C.B.
A Doctor of Divinity,
And that respectable Q.C.,
All fast asleep, al-fresco-ly,
And so I had them taken home
And put to bed respectably!
I trust my conduct meets your approbation.
ALEX. Sir, you have acted with discrimination,
And shown more delicate appreciation
Than we expect of persons of your station.
MR. WELLS. But stay—they waken one by one —
The spell has worked—the deed is done!
I would suggest that we retire
While Love, the Housemaid, lights her kitchen
fire!
(Exeunt Mr. Wells, Alexis and Aline, on tiptoe, as the villagers
stretch their arms, yawn, rub their eyes, and sit up.)