King: Yes, bother his eyes!
Lady S: He lives, you say?
King: In a sort of way.
Lady S: Then have him shot.
King: Decidedly not.
Lady S: Or crush him flat.
King: I cannot do that.
Both: O royal Rex,
My her blameless sex
Abhors such conduct shady.
You I plead in vain,
You will never gain
Respectable English lady!
(Dance of repudiation by Lady Sophy. Exit followed by King.)
March. Enter all the Court, heralding the arrival of the Princess
Zara, who enters, escorted by Captain Fitzbattleaxe and four
Troopers, all in the full uniform of the First Life Guards.
CHORUS.
Oh, maiden, rich
In Girton lore
That wisdom which,
We prized before,
We do confess
Is nothingness,
And rather less,
Perhaps, than more.
On each of us
Thy learning shed.
On calculus
May we be fed.
And teach us, please,
To speak with ease,
All languages,
Alive and dead!
SOLO—Princess and Chorus
Zara: Five years have flown since I took wing—
Time flies, and his footstep ne'er retards—
I'm the eldest daughter of your King.
Troop: And we are her escort—First Life Guards!
On the royal yacht,
When the waves were white,
In a helmet hot
And a tunic tight,
And our great big boots,
We defied the storm;
For we're not recruits,
And his uniform
A well drilled trooper ne'er discards—
And we are her escort—First Life Guards!
Zara: These gentlemen I present to you,
The pride and boast of their barrack-yards;
They've taken, O! such care of me!
Troop: For we are her escort—First Life Guards!
When the tempest rose,
And the ship went so—
Do you suppose
We were ill? No, no!
Though a qualmish lot
In a tunic tight,
And a helmet hot,
And a breastplate bright
(Which a well-drilled trooper ne'er discards),
We stood as her escort—First Life Guards!
CHORUS
Knightsbridge nursemaids—serving fairies—
Stars of proud Belgravian airies;
At stern duty's call you leave them,
Though you know how that must grieve them!
Zara: Tantantarara-rara-rara!
Fitz: Trumpet-call of Princess Zara!
Cho: That's trump-call, and they're all trump cards—
They are her escort—First Life Guards!
ENSEMBLE
Chorus Princess Zara and Fitzbattleaxe
Ladies Oh! the hours are gold,
And the joys untold,
Knightsbridge nursemaids, etc. When my eyes behold
My beloved Princess;
Men And the years will seem
When the tempest rose, etc. But a brief day-dream,
In the joy extreme
Of our happiness!
Full Chorus: Knightsbridge nursemaids, serving fairies, etc.
(Enter King, Princess Nekaya and Kalyba, and Lady Sophy. As the
King enters, the escort present arms.)
King: Zara! my beloved daughter! Why, how well you look and
how lovely you have grown! (embraces her.)
Zara: My dear father! (embracing him) And my two beautiful
little sisters! (embracing them)
Nekaya: Not beautiful.
Kalyba: Nice-looking.
Zara: But first let me present to you the English warrior who
commands my escort, and who has taken, O! such care of me
during my voyage—Captain Fitzbattleaxe!
Troopers: The First Life Guards.
When the tempest rose,
And the ship went so—
(Captain Fitzbattleaxe motions them to be silent. The Troopers
place themselves in the four corners of the stage, standing at
ease, immovably, as if on sentry. Each is surrounded by an
admiring group of young ladies, of whom they take no notice.)
King: (to Capt. Fitz.) Sir, you come from a country where
every virtue flourishes. We trust that you will not criticize too
severely such shortcomings as you may detect in our semi-barbarous
society.
Fitz.: (looking at Zara) Sir, I have eyes for nothing but the
blameless and the beautiful.
King: We thank you—he is really very polite! (Lady
Sophy, who has been greatly scandalized by the attentions paid to
the Lifeguardsmen by the young ladies, marches the Princesses
Nekaya and Kalyba towards an exit.) Lady Sophy, do not leave us.
Lady S.: Sir, your children are young, and, so far, innocent. If
they are to remain so, it is necessary that they be at once
removed from the contamination of their present disgraceful
surroundings. (She marches them off.)
King: (whose attention has thus been called to the proceedings
of the young ladies—aside) Dear, dear! They really should-
n't. (Aloud) Captain Fitzbattleaxe—
Fitz.: Sir.
King: Your Troopers appear to be receiving a troublesome
amount of attention from those young ladies. I know how strict
you English soldiers are, and I should be extremely distressed if
anything occurred to shock their puritanical British
sensitiveness.
Fitz.: Oh, I don't think there's any chance of that.
King: You think not? They won't be offended?
Fitz.: Oh no! They are quite hardened to it. They get a good
deal of that sort of thing, standing sentry at the Horse Guards.
King: It's English, is it?
Fitz.: It's particularly English.
King: Then, of course, it's all right. Pray proceed, ladies,
it's particularly English. Come, my daughter, for we have much to
say to each other.
Zara: Farewell, Captain Fitzbattleaxe! I cannot thank you too
em-phatically for the devoted care with which you have watched
over me during our long and eventful voyage.
DUET — Zara and Captain Fitzbattleaxe.
Zara: Ah! gallant soldier, brave and true
In tented field and tourney,
I grieve to have occasioned you
So very long a journey.
A British warrior gives up all—
His home and island beauty—
When summoned to the trumpet call
Of Regimental Duty!
Cho: Tantantara-rara-rara!
Trumpet call of the Princess Zara!
ENSEMBLE
Men Fitz. and Zara (aside)
A British warrior gives up all, etc. Oh my joy, my pride,
My delight to hide,
Let us sing, aside,
Ladies What in truth we feel,
Let us whisper low
Knightsbridge nursemaids, etc. Of our love's glad glow,
Lest the truth we show
We would fain conceal.
Fitz.: Such escort duty, as his due,
To young Lifeguardsman falling
Completely reconciles him to
His uneventful calling.
When soldier seeks Utopian glades
In charge of Youth and Beauty,
Then pleasure merely masquerades
As Regimental Duty!
All: Tantantarara-rara-rara!
Trumpet-call of Princess Zara!
ENSEMBLE
Men Fitz. and Zara (aside)
A British warrior gives up all, etc. Oh! my hours are gold,
And the joys untold,
When my eyes behold
Ladies My beloved Princess;
And the years will seem
Knightsbridge nursemaids, etc. But a brief day-dream,
In the joy extreme
Of our happiness!
(Exeunt King and Zara in one direction, Lifeguardsmen and crowd in
opposite direction. Enter, at back, Scaphio and Phantis, who
watch Zara as she goes off. Scaphio is seated, shaking violently,
and obviously under the influence of some strong emotion.)
Phantis: There—tell me, Scaphio, is she not beautiful? Can
you wonder that I love her so passionately?
Scaphio: No. She is extraordinarily—miraculously lovely!
Good heavens, what a singularly beautiful girl!
Phantis: I knew you would say so!
Scaphio: What exquisite charm of manner! What surprising
delicacy of gesture! Why, she's a goddess! a very goddess!
Phantis: (rather taken aback) Yes—she's—she's an
attractive girl.
Scaphio: Attractive? Why, you must be blind!—She's
entrancing—enthralling—intoxicating! (Aside) God
bless my heart, what's the matter with me?
Phantis: (alarmed) Yes. You—you promised to help me to
get her father's consent, you know.
Scaphio: Promised! Yes, but the convulsion has come, my good
boy! It is she—my ideal! Why, what's this? (Staggering)
Phantis! Stop me—I'm going mad—mad with the love of
her!
Phantis: Scaphio, compose yourself, I beg. The girl is perfectly
opaque! Besides, remember—each of us is helpless without
the other. You can't succeed without my consent, you know.
Scaphio: And you dare to threaten? Oh, ungrateful! When you
came to me, palsied with love for this girl, and implored my
assis-tance, did I not unhesitatingly promise it? And this is the
return you make? Out of my sight, ingrate! (Aside) Dear! dear!
what is the matter with me? (Enter Capt. Fitzbattleaxe and Zara)
Zara: Dear me. I'm afraid we are interrupting a tete-a-tete.
Scaphio: (breathlessly) No, no. You come very appropriately.
To be brief, we—we love you—this man and
I—madly—passionately!
Zara: Sir!
Scaphio: And we don't know how we are to settle which of us is to
marry you.
Fitz.: Zara, this is very awkward.
Scaphio: (very much overcome) I—I am paralyzed by the
singular radiance of your extraordinary loveliness. I know I am
incoherent. I never was like this before—it shall not occur
again. I—shall be fluent, presently.
Zara: (aside) Oh, dear, Captain Fitzbattleaxe, what is to be
done?
Fitz.: (aside) Leave it to me—I'll manage it. (Aloud)
It's a common situation. Why not settle it in the English
fashion?
Both: The English fashion? What is that?
Fitz.: It's very simple. In England, when two gentlemen are in
love with the same lady, and until it is settled which gentleman
is to blow out the brains of the other, it is provided, by the
Rival Admirers' Clauses Consolidation Act, that the lady shall be
entrusted to an officer of Household Cavalry as stakeholder, who
is bound to hand her over to the survivor (on the Tontine
principle) in a good condition of substantial and decorative
repair.
Scaphio: Reasonable wear and tear and damages by fire excepted?
Fitz.: Exactly.
Phantis: Well, that seems very reasonable. (To Scaphio) What do
you say—Shall we entrust her to this officer of Household
Cavalry? It will give us time.
Scaphio: (trembling violently) I—I am not at present in a
condition to think it out coolly—but if he is an officer of
Household Cavalry, and if the Princess consents—-
Zara: Alas, dear sirs, I have no alternative—under the
Rival Admirers' Clauses Consolidation Act!
Fitz.: Good—then that's settled.
QUARTET
Fitzbattleaxe, Zara, Scaphio, and Phantis.
Fitz.: It's understood, I think, all round
That, by the English custom bound
I hold the lady safe and sound
In trust for either rival,
Until you clearly testify
By sword and pistol, by and by,
Which gentleman prefers to die,
And which prefers survival.
ENSEMBLE
Sca. and Phan. Zara and Fitz
Its clearly understood all round We stand, I think, on safish ground
That, by your English custom bound Our senses weak it will astound
He holds the lady safe and sound If either gentleman is found
In trust for either rival, Prepared to meet his rival.
Until we clearly testify Their machinations we defy;
By sword or pistol, by and by We won't be parted, you and I—
Which gentleman prefers to die, Of bloodshed each is rather shy—
And which prefers survival. They both prefer survival
Phan.: If I should die and he should live
(aside to Fitz.) To you, without reserve, I give
Her heart so young and sensitive,
And all her predilections.
Sca.: If he should live and I should die,
(aside to Fitz.) I see no kind of reason why
You should not, if you wish it, try
To gain her young affections.
ENSEMBLE
Sca. and Phant. Fitz and Zara
If I should die and you should live As both of us are positive
To this young officer I give That both of them intend to live,
Her heart so soft and sensitive, There's nothing in the case to give
And all her predilections. Us cause for grave reflections.
If you should live and I should die As both will live and neither die
I see no kind of reason why I see no kind of reason why
He should not, if he chooses, try I should not, if I wish it, try
To win her young affections. To gain your young affections!
(Exit Scaphio and Phantis together)
DUET — Zara and Fitzbattleaxe
Ensemble: Oh admirable art!
Oh, neatly-planned intention!
Oh, happy intervention—
Oh, well constructed plot!
When sages try to part
Two loving hearts in fusion,
Their wisdom's delusion,
And learning serves them not!
Fitz.: Until quite plain
Is their intent,
These sages twain
I represent.
Now please infer
That, nothing loth,
You're henceforth, as it were,
Engaged to marry both—
Then take it that I represent the two—
On that hypothesis, what would you do?
Zara. (aside): What would I do? what would I do?
(To Fitz.) In such a case,
Upon your breast,
My blushing face
I think I'd rest—(doing so)
Then perhaps I might
Demurely say—
"I find this breastplate bright
Is sorely in the way!"
Fitz.: Our mortal race
Is never blest—
There's no such case
As perfect rest;
Some petty blight
Asserts its sway—
Some crumpled roseleaf light
Is always in the way!
(Exit Fitzbattleaxe. Manet Zara.)
(Enter King.)
King: My daughter! At last we are alone together.
Zara: Yes, and I'm glad we are, for I want to speak to you
very seriously. Do you know this paper?
King: (aside) Da—! (Aloud) Oh
yes—I've—I've seen it. Where in the world did you get
this from?
Zara: It was given to me by Lady Sophy—my sisters'
governess.
King: (aside) Lady Sophy's an angel, but I do sometimes wish
she'd mind her own business! (Aloud) It's—ha!
ha!—it's rather humorous.
Zara: I see nothing humorous in it. I only see that you, the
despotic King of this country, are made the subject of the most
scandalous insinuations. Why do you permit these things?
King: Well, they appeal to my sense of humor. It's the only
really comic paper in Utopia, and I wouldn't be without it for the
world.
Zara: If it had any literary merit I could understand it.
King: Oh, it has literary merit. Oh, distinctly, it has
literary merit.
Zara: My dear father, it's mere ungrammatical twaddle.
King: Oh, it's not ungrammatical. I can't allow that.
Unpleas-antly personal, perhaps, but written with an
epigrammatical point that is very rare nowadays—very rare
indeed.
Zara: (looking at cartoon) Why do they represent you with
such a big nose?
King: (looking at cartoon) Eh? Yes, it is a big one! Why,
the fact is that, in the cartoons of a comic paper, the size of
your nose always varies inversely as the square of your
popularity. It's the rule.
Zara: Then you must be at a tremendous discount just now! I
see a notice of a new piece called "King Tuppence," in which an
English tenor has the audacity to personate you on a public stage.
I can only say that I am surprised that any English tenor should
lend himself to such degrading personalities.
King: Oh, he's not really English. As it happens he's a
Utopian, but he calls himself English.
Zara: Calls himself English?
King: Yes. Bless you, they wouldn't listen to any tenor who
didn't call himself English.
Zara: And you permit this insolent buffoon to caricature you
in a pointless burlesque! My dear father—if you were a free
agent, you would never permit these outrages.
King: (almost in tears) Zara—I—I admit I am not
altogether a free agent. I—I am controlled. I try to make
the best of it, but sometimes I find it very difficult—very
difficult indeed. Nominally a Despot, I am, between ourselves,
the helpless tool of two unscrupulous Wise Men, who insist on my
falling in with all their wishes and threaten to denounce me for
immediate explosion if I remonstrate! (Breaks down completely)
Zara: My poor father! Now listen to me. With a view to
remodel-ling the political and social institutions of Utopia, I
have brought with me six Representatives of the principal causes
that have tended to make England the powerful, happy, and
blameless country which the consensus of European civiliza-tion
has declared it to be. Place yourself unreservedly in the hands
of these gentlemen, and they will reorganize your country on a
footing that will enable you to defy your persecutors. They are
all now washing their hands after their journey. Shall I
introduce them?
King: My dear Zara, how can I thank you? I will consent to
any-thing that will release me from the abominable tyranny of
these two men. (Calling) What ho! Without there! (Enter Calynx)
Summon my Court without an instant's delay! (Exit Calynx)
FINALE
Enter every one, except the Flowers of Progress.
CHORUS
Although your Royal summons to appear
From courtesy was singularly free,
Obedient to that summons we are here—
What would your Majesty?
RECITATIVE — King
My worthy people, my beloved daughter
Most thoughtfully has brought with her from England
The types of all the causes that have made
That great and glorious country what it is.
Chorus: Oh, joy unbounded!
Sca., Tar., Phan (aside). Why, what does this mean?
RECITATIVE — Zara
Attend to me, Utopian populace,
Ye South Pacific island viviparians;
All, in the abstract, types of courtly grace,
Yet, when compared with Britain's glorious race,
But little better than half clothed Barbarians!
CHORUS
Yes! Contrasted when
With Englishmen,
Are little better than half-clothed barbarians!
Enter all the Flowers of Progress, led by Fitzbattleaxe.
SOLOS — Zara and the Flowers of Progress.
(Presenting Captain Fitzbattleaxe)
When Britain sounds the trump of war
(And Europe trembles),
The army of the conqueror
In serried ranks assemble;
'Tis then this warrior's eyes and sabre gleam
For our protection—
He represents a military scheme
In all its proud perfection!
Chorus: Yes—yes
He represents a military scheme
In all its proud perfection.
Ulahlica! Ulahlica! Ulahlica!
SOLO — Zara.
(Presenting Sir Bailey Barre, Q.C., M.P.)
A complicated gentleman allow to present,
Of all the arts and faculties the terse embodiment,
He's a great arithmetician who can demonstrate with ease
That two and two are three or five or anything you please;
An eminent Logician who can make it clear to you
That black is white—when looked at from the proper point
of view;
A marvelous Philologist who'll undertake to show
That "yes" is but another and a neater form of "no."
Sir Bailey: Yes—yes—yes—
"Yes" is but another and a neater form of "no."
All preconceived ideas on any subject I can scout,
And demonstrate beyond all possibility of doubt,
That whether you're an honest man or whether you're a thief
Depends on whose solicitor has given me my brief.
Chorus: Yes—yes—yes
That whether your'e an honest man, etc.
Ulahlica! Ulahlica! Ulahlica!
Zara: (Presenting Lord Dramaleigh and County Councillor)
What these may be, Utopians all,
Perhaps you'll hardly guess—
They're types of England's physical
And moral cleanliness.
This is a Lord High Chamberlain,
Of purity the gauge—
He'll cleanse our court from moral stain
And purify our Stage.
Lord D.: Yes—yes—yes
Court reputations I revise,
And presentations scrutinize,
New plays I read with jealous eyes,
And purify the Stage.
Chorus: Court reputations, etc.
Zara: This County Councillor acclaim,
Great Britain's latest toy—
On anything you like to name
His talents he'll employ—
All streets and squares he'll purify
Within your city walls,
And keep meanwhile a modest eye
On wicked music halls.
C.C.: Yes—yes—yes
In towns I make improvements great,
Which go to swell the County Rate—
I dwelling-houses sanitate,
And purify the Halls!
Chorus: In towns he makes improvements great, etc.
Ulahlica! Ulahlica! Ulahlica!
SOLO — Zara:
(Presenting Mr. Goldbury)
A Company Promoter this with special education,
Which teaches what Contango means and also Backwardation—
To speculators he supplies a grand financial leaven,
Time was when two were company—but now it must be seven.
Mr. Gold.: Yes—yes—yes
Stupendous loans to foreign thrones
I've largely advocated;
In ginger-pops and peppermint-drops
I've freely speculated;
Then mines of gold, of wealth untold,
Successfully I've floated
And sudden falls in apple-stalls
Occasionally quoted.
And soon or late I always call
For Stock Exchange quotation—
No schemes too great and none too small
For Companification!
Chorus: Yes! Yes! Yes! No schemes too great, etc.
Ulahlica! Ulahlica! Ulahlica!
Zara: (Presenting Capt. Sir Edward Corcoran, R.N.)
And lastly I present
Great Britain's proudest boast,
Who from the blows
Of foreign foes
Protects her sea-girt coast—
And if you ask him in respectful tone,
He'll show you how you may protect your own!
SOLO — Captain Corcoran
I'm Captain Corcoran, K.C.B.,
I'll teach you how we rule the sea,
And terrify the simple Gauls;
And how the Saxon and the Celt
Their Europe-shaking blows have dealt
With Maxim gun and Nordenfelt
(Or will when the occasion calls).
If sailor-like you'd play your cards,
Unbend your sails and lower your yards,
Unstep your masts—you'll never want 'em more.
Though we're no longer hearts of oak,
Yet we can steer and we can stoke,
And thanks to coal, and thanks to coke,
We never run a ship ashore!
All: What never?
Capt.: No, never!
All: What never?
Capt: Hardly ever!
All: Hardly ever run a ship ashore!
Then give three cheers, and three cheers more,
For the tar who never runs his ship ashore;
Then give three cheers, and three cheers more,
For he never runs his ship ashore!
CHORUS
All hail, ye types of England's power—
Ye heaven-enlightened band!
We bless the day and bless the hour
That brought you to our land.
QUARTET
Ye wanderers from a mighty State,
Oh, teach us how to legislate—
Your lightest word will carry weight,
In our attentive ears.
Oh, teach the natives of this land
(Who are not quick to understand)
How to work off their social and
Political arrears!
Capt. Fitz.: Increase your army!
Lord D.: Purify your court!
Capt. Corc: Get up your steam and cut your canvas short!
Sir B.: To speak on both sides teach your sluggish brains!
Mr. B.: Widen your thoroughfares, and flush your drains!
Mr. Gold.: Utopia's much too big for one small head—
I'll float it as a Company Limited!
King: A Company Limited? What may that be?
The term, I rather think, is new to me.
Chorus: A company limited? etc.
Sca, Phant, and Tara (Aside)
What does he mean? What does he mean?
Give us a kind of clue!
What does he mean? What does he mean?
What is he going to do?
SONG — Mr. Goldbury
Some seven men form an Association
(If possible, all Peers and Baronets),
They start off with a public declaration
To what extent they mean to pay their debts.
That's called their Capital; if they are wary
They will not quote it at a sum immense.
The figure's immaterial—it may vary
From eighteen million down to eighteenpence.
I should put it rather low;
The good sense of doing so
Will be evident at once to any debtor.
When it's left to you to say
What amount you mean to pay,
Why, the lower you can put it at, the better.
Chorus: When it's left to you to say, etc.
They then proceed to trade with all who'll trust 'em
Quite irrespective of their capital
(It's shady, but it's sanctified by custom);
Bank, Railway, Loan, or Panama Canal.
You can't embark on trading too tremendous—
It's strictly fair, and based on common sense—
If you succeed, your profits are stupendous—
And if you fail, pop goes your eighteenpence.
Make the money-spinner spin!
For you only stand to win,
And you'll never with dishonesty be twitted.
For nobody can know,
To a million or so,
To what extent your capital's committed!
Chorus: No, nobody can know, etc.
If you come to grief, and creditors are craving
(For nothing that is planned by mortal head
Is certain in this Vale of Sorrow—saving
That one's Liability is Limited),—
Do you suppose that signifies perdition?
If so, you're but a monetary dunce—
You merely file a Winding-Up Petition,
And start another Company at once!
Though a Rothschild you may be
In your own capacity,
As a Company you've come to utter sorrow—
But the Liquidators say,
"Never mind—you needn't pay,"
So you start another company to-morrow!
Chorus: But the liquidators say, etc.
King: Well, at first sight it strikes us as dishonest,
But if its's good enough for virtuous England—
The first commercial country in the world—
It's good enough for us.
Sca., Phan., Tar. (aside to the King)
You'd best take care—
Please recollect we have not been consulted.
King: And do I understand that Great Britain
Upon this Joint Stock principle is governed?
Mr. G.: We haven't come to that, exactly—but
We're tending rapidly in that direction.
The date's not distant.
King: (enthusiastically) We will be before you!
We'll go down in posterity renowned
As the First Sovereign in Christendom
Who registered his Crown and Country under
The Joint Stock Company's Act of Sixty-Two.
All: Ulahlica!
SOLO — King
Henceforward, of a verity,
With Fame ourselves we link—
We'll go down to Posterity
Of sovereigns all the pink!
Sca., Phan., Tar.: (aside to King)
If you've the mad temerity
Our wishes thus to blink,
You'll go down to Posterity,
Much earlier than you think!
Tar.: (correcting them)
He'll go up to Posterity,
If I inflict the blow!
Sca., Phan.: (angrily)
He'll go down to Posterity—
We think we ought to know!
Tar.: (explaining) He'll go up to Posterity,
Blown up with dynamite!
Sca., Phan.: (apologetically)
He'll go up to Posterity,
Of course he will, you're right!
ENSEMBLE
King, Lady Sophy, Nek., Sca., Phan, and Tar Fitz. and Zara (aside)
Kal., Calynx and Chorus(aside)
Henceforward of a verity, If he has the temerity
Who love with all sincerity;
With fame ourselves we Our wishes thus to blink
link— Their lives may safely link.
And go down to Posterity, He'll go up to Posterity
And as for our posterity
Of sovereigns all pink! Much earlier than they think!
We don't care what they think!
CHORUS
Let's seal this mercantile pact—
The step we ne'er shall rue—
It gives whatever we lacked—
The statement's strictly true.
All hail, astonishing Fact!
All hail, Invention new—
The Joint Stock Company's Act—
The Act of Sixty-Two!
END OF ACT I
ACT II
Scene — Throne Room in the Palace. Night. Fitzbattleaxe
discovered,
singing to Zara.
RECITATIVE — Fitzbattleaxe.
Oh, Zara, my beloved one, bear with me!
Ah, do not laugh at my attempted C!
Repent not, mocking maid, thy girlhood's choice—
The fervour of my love affects my voice!
SONG — Fitzbattleaxe.
A tenor, all singers above
(This doesn't admit of a question),
Should keep himself quiet,
Attend to his diet
And carefully nurse his digestion;
But when he is madly in love
It's certain to tell on his singing—
You can't do the proper chromatics
With proper emphatics
When anguish your bosom is wringing!
When distracted with worries in plenty,
And his pulse is a hundred and twenty,
And his fluttering bosom the slave of mistrust is,
A tenor can't do himself justice,
Now observe—(sings a high note),
You see, I can't do myself justice!
I could sing if my fervour were mock,
It's easy enough if you're acting—
But when one's emotion
Is born of devotion
You mustn't be over-exacting.
One ought to be firm as a rock
To venture a shake in vibrato,
When fervour's expected
Keep cool and collected
Or never attempt agitato.
But, of course, when his tongue is of leather,
And his lips appear pasted together,
And his sensitive palate as dry as a crust is,
A tenor can't do himself justice.
Now observe—(sings a high note),
It's no use—I can't do myself justice!
Zara: Why, Arthur, what does it matter? When the higher
qualities of the heart are all that can be desired, the higher
notes of the voice are matters of comparative insignificance. Who
thinks slightingly of the cocoanut because it is husky? Be-sides
(demurely), you are not singing for an engagement (putting her
hand in his), you have that already!
Fitz.: How good and wise you are! How unerringly your
practiced brain winnows the wheat from the chaff—the
material from the merely incidental!
Zara: My Girton training, Arthur. At Girton all is wheat, and
idle chaff is never heard within its walls! But tell me, is not
all working marvelously well? Have not our Flowers of Progress
more than justified their name?
Fitz.: We have indeed done our best. Captain Corcoran and I
have, in concert, thoroughly remodeled the sister-
services—and upon so sound a basis that the South Pacific
trembles at the name of Utopia!
Zara: How clever of you!
Fitz.: Clever? Not a bit. It's easy as possible when the
Admiral-ty and Horse Guards are not there to interfere. And so
with the others. Freed from the trammels imposed upon them by
idle Acts of Parliament, all have given their natural tal-ents
full play and introduced reforms which, even in Eng-land, were
never dreamt of!
Zara: But perhaps the most beneficent changes of all has been
ef-fected by Mr. Goldbury, who, discarding the exploded theory
that some strange magic lies hidden in the number Seven, has
applied the Limited Liability principle to individuals, and every
man, woman, and child is now a Company Limited with liability
restricted to the amount of his declared Capital! There is not a
christened baby in Utopia who has not already issued his little
Prospectus!
Fitz.: Marvelous is the power of a Civilization which can
trans-mute, by a word, a Limited Income into an Income Limited.
Zara: Reform has not stopped here—it has been applied
even to the costume of our people. Discarding their own barbaric
dress, the natives of our land have unanimously adopted the taste-
ful fashions of England in all their rich entirety. Scaphio and
Phantis have undertaken a contract to supply the whole of Utopia
with clothing designed upon the most approved English
models—and the first Drawing-Room under the new state of
things is to be held here this evening.
Fitz.: But Drawing-Rooms are always held in the afternoon.
Zara: Ah, we've improved upon that. We all look so much
better by candlelight! And when I tell you, dearest, that my
Court train has just arrived, you will understand that I am long-
ing to go and try it on.
Fitz.: Then we must part?
Zara: Necessarily, for a time.
Fitz.: Just as I wanted to tell you, with all the passionate
enthu-siasm of my nature, how deeply, how devotedly I love you!
Zara: Hush! Are these the accents of a heart that really
feels? True love does not indulge in declamation—its voice
is sweet, and soft, and low. The west wind whispers when he woos
the poplars!
DUET — Zara and Fitzbattleaxe.
Zara: Words of love too loudly spoken
Ring their own untimely knell;
Noisy vows are rudely broken,
Soft the song of Philomel.
Whisper sweetly, whisper slowly,
Hour by hour and day by day;
Sweet and low as accents holy
Are the notes of lover's lay.
Both: Sweet and low, etc.
Fitz: Let the conqueror, flushed with glory,
Bid his noisy clarions bray;
Lovers tell their artless story
In a whispered virelay.
False is he whose vows alluring
Make the listening echoes ring;
Sweet and low when all-enduring
Are the songs that lovers sing!
Both: Sweet and low, etc.
(Exit Zara. Enter King dressed as Field-Marshal.)
King: To a Monarch who has been accustomed to the uncontrolled
use of his limbs, the costume of a British Field-Marshal is,
perhaps, at first, a little cramping. Are you sure that this is
all right? It's not a practical joke, is it? No one has a keener
sense of humor than I have, but the First Statutory Cabinet
Council of Utopia Limited must be conduct-ed with dignity and
impressiveness. Now, where are the other five who signed the
Articles of Association?
Fitz.: Sir, they are here.
(Enter Lord Dramaleigh, Captain Corcoran, Sir Bailey Barre, Mr.
Blushington, and Mr. Goldbury from different entrances.)
King: Oh! (Addressing them) Gentlemen, our daughter holds
her first Drawing-Room in half an hour, and we shall have time to
make our half-yearly report in the interval. I am neces-sarily
unfamiliar with the forms of an English Cabinet
Council—perhaps the Lord Chamberlain will kindly put us in
the way of doing the thing properly, and with due regard to the
solemnity of the occasion.
Lord D.: Certainly—nothing simpler. Kindly bring your
chairs forward—His Majesty will, of course, preside.
(They range their chairs across stage like Christy Minstrels.
King sits center, Lord Dramaleigh on his left, Mr. Goldbury on his
right, Captain Corcoran left of Lord Dramaleigh, Captain
Fitzbattleaxe right of Mr. Goldbury, Mr. Blushington extreme
right, Sir Bailey Barre extreme left.)
King: Like this?
Lord D.: Like this.
King: We take your word for it that this is all right. You
are not making fun of us? This is in accordance with the prac-
tice at the Court of St. James's?
Lord D.: Well, it is in accordance with the practice at the Court
of St. James's Hall.
King: Oh! it seems odd, but never mind.
SONG — King.
Society has quite forsaken all her wicked courses. Which empties
our police courts, and abolishes divorces.
Chorus: Divorce is nearly obsolete in England.
King: No tolerance we show to undeserving rank and splendour;
For the higher his position is, the greater the offender.
Chorus: That's a maxim that is prevalent in England.
King: No peeress at our drawing-room before the Presence
passes Who wouldn't be accepted by the lower middle-classes. Each
shady dame, whatever be her rank, is bowed out neatly.
Chorus: In short, this happy country has been Anglicized
completely Is really is surprising What a thorough Anglicizing We
have brought about—Utopia's quite another land; In her
enterprising movements, She is England—with improvements,
Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land!
King: Our city we have beautified—we've done it willy-
nilly— And all that isn't Belgrave Square is Strand and
Piccadilly.
Chorus: We haven't any slummeries in England!
King: The chamberlain our native stage has purged beyond a
question. Of "risky" situation and indelicate suggestion; No piece
is tolerated if it's costumed indiscreetly—
Chorus: In short this happy country has been Anglicized
com-pletely! It really is surprising, etc.
King: Our peerage we've remodelled on an intellectual basis,
Which certainly is rough on our hereditary races—
Chorus: We are going to remodel it in England.
King: The Brewers and the Cotton Lords no longer seek
admission, And literary merit meets with proper recognition—
Chorus: As literary merit does in England!
King: Who knows but we may count among our intellectual
chickens, Like you, an Earl of Thackery and p'r'aps a Duke of
Dickens— Lord Fildes and Viscount Millais (when they come)
we'll welcome sweetly—
Chorus: In short, this happy country has been Anglicized
completely! It really is surprising, etc.
(At the end all rise and replace their chairs.)
King: Now, then, for our first Drawing-Room. Where are the
Prin-cesses? What an extraordinary thing it is that since Euro-
pean looking-glasses have been supplied to the Royal bed-rooms my
daughters are invariably late!
Lord D.: Sir, their Royal Highnesses await your pleasure in the
Ante-room.
King: Oh. Then request them to do us the favor to enter at
once.
(Enter all the Royal Household, including (besides the Lord
Chamber-lain) the Vice-Chamberlain, the Master of the Horse, the
Master of the Buckhounds, the Lord High Treasurer, the Lord
Steward, the Comptroller of the Household, the Lord-in-Waiting,
the Field Officer in Brigade Waiting, the Gold and Silver Stick,
and the Gentlemen Ushers. Then enter the three Princesses (their
trains carried by Pages of Honor), Lady Sophy, and the Ladies-in-
Waiting.)
King: My daughters, we are about to attempt a very solemn
ceremo-nial, so no giggling, if you please. Now, my Lord Chamber-
lain, we are ready.
Lord D.: Then, ladies and gentlemen, places, if you please. His
Maj-esty will take his place in front of the throne, and will be
so obliging as to embrace all the debutantes. (LADY SOPHY much
shocked.)
King: What—must I really?
Lord D.: Absolutely indispensable.
King: More jam for the Palace Peeper!
(The King takes his place in front of the throne, the Princess
Zara on his left, the two younger Princesses on the left of Zara.)
King: Now, is every one in his place?
Lord D.: Every one is in his place.
King: Then let the revels commence.
(Enter the ladies attending the Drawing-Room. They give their
cards to the Groom-in-Waiting, who passes them to the Lord-in-
Waiting, who passes them to the Vice-Chamberlain, who passes them
to the Lord Chamberlain, who reads the names to the King as each
lady approaches. The ladies curtsey in succession to the King and
the three Princesses, and pass out. When all the presentations
have been accomplished, the King, Princesses, and Lady Sophy come
forward, and all the ladies re-enter.)
RECITATIVE — King
This ceremonial our wish displays
To copy all Great Britain's courtly ways.
Though lofty aims catastrophe entail,
We'll gloriously succeed or nobly fail!
UNACCOMPANIED CHORUS
Eagle High in Cloudland soaring—
Sparrow twittering on a reed—
Tiger in the jungle roaring—
Frightened fawn in grassy mead—
Let the eagle, not the sparrow,
Be the object of your arrow—
Fix the tiger with your eye—
Pass the fawn in pity by.
Glory then will crown the day—
Glory, glory, anyway!
(Exit all.)
Enter Scaphio and Phantis, now dressed as judges in red and ermine
robes and undress wigs. They come down stage melodramatically
— working together.
DUET — Scaphio and Phantis.
Sca.: With fury deep we burn
Phan.: We do—
Sca.: We fume with smothered rage—
Phan.: We do—
Sca.: These Englishmen who rule supreme,
Their undertaking they redeem
By stifling every harmless scheme
In which we both engage—
Phan.: They do—
Sca.: In which we both engage—
Phan.: We think it is our turn—
Sca.: We do—
Phan.: We think our turn has come—
Sca.: We do.
Phan.: These Englishmen, they must prepare
To seek at once their native air.
The King as heretofore, we swear,
Shall be beneath our thumb—
Sca.: He shall—
Phan.: Shall be beneath out thumb—
Sca.: He shall.
Both: (with great energy)
For this mustn't be, and this won't do.
If you'll back me, then I'll back you,
No, this won't do,
No, this mustn't be.
With fury deep we burn...
Enter the King.
King: Gentlemen, gentlemen—really! This unseemly
display of energy within the Royal precincts is altogether
unpardon-able. Pray, what do you complain of?
Scaphio: (furiously) What do we complain of? Why, through the
innovations introduced by the Flowers of Progress all our harmless
schemes for making a provision for our old age are ruined. Our
Matrimonial Agency is at a standstill, our Cheap Sherry business
is in bankruptcy, our Army Clothing contracts are paralyzed, and
even our Society paper, the Palace Peeper, is practically defunct!
King: Defunct? Is that so? Dear, dear, I am truly sorry.
Scaphio: Are you aware that Sir Bailey Barre has introduced a law
of libel by which all editors of scurrilous newspapers are pub-
licly flogged—as in England? And six of our editors have
resigned in succession! Now, the editor of a scurrilous paper can
stand a good deal—he takes a private thrashing as a matter
of course—it's considered in his salary—but no
gentleman likes to be publicly flogged.
King: Naturally. I shouldn't like it myself.
Phantis: Then our Burlesque Theater is absolutely ruined!
King: Dear me. Well, theatrical property is not what it was.
Phantis: Are you aware that the Lord Chamberlain, who has his own
views as to the best means of elevating the national drama, has
declined to license any play that is not in blank verse and three
hundred years old—as in England?
Scaphio: And as if that wasn't enough, the County Councillor has
or-dered a four-foot wall to be built up right across the
proscenium, in case of fire—as in England.
Phantis: It's so hard on the company—who are liable to be
roasted alive—and this has to be met by enormously increased
salaries—as in England.
Scaphio: You probably know that we've contracted to supply the
entire nation with a complete English outfit. But perhaps you do
not know that, when we send in our bills, our customers plead
liability limited to a declared capital of eighteenpence, and
apply to be dealt with under the Winding-up Act—as in
England?
King: Really, gentlemen, this is very irregular. If you will
be so good as to formulate a detailed list of your grievances in
writing, addressed to the Secretary of Utopia Limited, they will
be laid before the Board, in due course, at their next monthly
meeting.
Scaphio: Are we to understand that we are defied?
King: That is the idea I intended to convey.
Phantis: Defied! We are defied!
Scaphio: (furiously) Take care—you know our powers.
Trifle with us, and you die!
TRIO — Scaphio, Phantis, and King.
Sca.: If you think that, when banded in unity,
We may both be defied with impunity,
You are sadly misled of a verity!
Phan.: If you value repose and tranquility,
You'll revert to a state of docility,
Or prepare to regret your temerity!
King.: If my speech is unduly refractory
You will find it a course satisfactory
At an early Board meeting to show it up.
Though if proper excuse you can trump any,
You may wind up a Limited Company,
You cannot conveniently blow it up!
(Scaphio and Phantis thoroughly baffled)
King.: (Dancing quietly)
Whene'er I chance to baffle you
I, also, dance a step or two—
Of this now guess the hidden sense:
(Scaphio and Phantis consider the question as King continues
dancing quietly—then give it up.)
It means complete indifference!
Sca. and Phan.: Of course it does—indifference!
It means complete indifference!
(King dancing quietly. Sca. and Phan. dancing furiously.)
Sca. and Phan.: As we've a dance for every mood
With pas de trois we will conclude,
What this may mean you all may guess—
It typifies remorselessness!
King.: It means unruffled cheerfulness!
(King dances off placidly as Scaphio and Phantis dance furiously.)
Phantis: (breathless) He's right—we are helpless! He's no
longer a human being—he's a Corporation, and so long as he
confines himself to his Articles of Association we can't touch
him! What are we to do?
Scaphio: Do? Raise a Revolution, repeal the Act of Sixty-Two,
recon-vert him into an individual, and insist on his immediate ex-
plosion! (Tarara enters.) Tarara, come here; you're the very man
we want.
Tarara: Certainly, allow me. (Offers a cracker to each; they
snatch them away impatiently.) That's rude.
Scaphio: We have no time for idle forms. You wish to succeed to
the throne?
Tarara: Naturally.
Scaphio: Then you won't unless you join us. The King has defied
us, and, as matters stand, we are helpless. So are you. We must
devise some plot at once to bring the people about his ears.
Tarara: A plot?
Phantis: Yes, a plot of superhuman subtlety. Have you such a
thing about you?
Tarara: (feeling) No, I think not. No. There's one on my
dressing-table.
Scaphio: We can't wait—we must concoct one at once, and put
it into execution without delay. There is not a moment to spare!
TRIO — Scaphio, Phantis, and Tarara.
Ensemble
With wily brain upon the spot
A private plot we'll plan,
The most ingenious private plot
Since private plots began.
That's understood. So far we've got
And, striking while the iron's hot,
We'll now determine like a shot
The details of this private plot.
Sca.: I think we ought—(whispers)
Phan. and Tar.: Such bosh I never heard!
Phan.: Ah! happy thought!—(whispers)
Sca. and Tar.: How utterly dashed absurd!
Tar.: I'll tell you how—(whispers)
Sca and Phan.: Why, what put that in your head?
Sca.: I've got it now—(whispers)
Phan. and Tar.: Oh, take him away to bed!
Phan.: Oh, put him to bed!
Tar.: Oh, put him to bed!
Sca.: What, put me to bed?
Phan. and Tar.: Yes, certainly put him to bed!
Sca.: But, bless me, don't you see—
Phan.: Do listen to me, I pray—
Tar.: It certainly seems to me—
Sca.: Bah—this is the only way!
Phan.: It's rubbish absurd you growl!
Tar.: You talk ridiculous stuff!
Sca.: You're a drivelling barndoor owl!
Phan.: You're a vapid and vain old muff!
(All, coming down to audience.)
So far we haven't quite solved the plot—
They're not a very ingenious lot—
But don't be unhappy,
It's still on the tapis,
We'll presently hit on a capital plot!
Sca.: Suppose we all—(whispers)
Phan.: Now there I think you're right.
Then we might all—(whispers)
Tar.: That's true, we certainly might.
I'll tell you what—(whispers)
Sca.: We will if we possibly can.
Then on the spot— (whispers)
Phan. and Tar.: Bravo! A capital plan!
Sca.: That's exceedingly neat and new!
Phan.: Exceedingly new and neat.
Tar.: I fancy that that will do.
Sca.: It's certainly very complete.
Phan.: Well done you sly old sap!
Tar.: Bravo, you cunning old mole!
Sca.: You very ingenious chap!
Phan.: You intellectual soul!
(All, coming down and addressing audience.)
At last a capital plan we've got
We won't say how and we won't say what:
It's safe in my noddle—
Now off we will toddle,
And slyly develop this capital plot!
(Business. Exeunt Scaphio and Phantis in one direction, and
Tarara in the other.)
(Enter Lord Dramaleigh and Mr. Goldbury.)
Lord D.: Well, what do you think of our first South Pacific
Drawing-Room? Allowing for a slight difficulty with the trains,
and a little want of familiarity with the use of the rouge-pot, it
was, on the whole, a meritorious affair?
Gold.: My dear Dramaleigh, it redounds infinitely to your
credit.
Lord D.: One or two judicious innovations, I think?
Gold.: Admirable. The cup of tea and the plate of mixed
biscuits were a cheap and effective inspiration.
Lord D.: Yes—my idea entirely. Never been done before.
Gold.: Pretty little maids, the King's youngest daughters, but
timid.
Lord D.: That'll wear off. Young.
Gold.: That'll wear off. Ha! here they come, by George! And
with-out the Dragon! What can they have done with her?
(Enter Nekaya and Kalyba timidly.)
Nekaya: Oh, if you please, Lady Sophy has sent us in here,
because Zara and Captain Fitzbattleaxe are going on, in the
garden, in a manner which no well-conducted young ladies ought to
witness.
Lord D.: Indeed, we are very much obliged to her Ladyship.
Kalyba: Are you? I wonder why.
Nekaya: Don't tell us if it's rude.
Lord D.: Rude? Not at all. We are obliged to Lady Sophy because
she has afforded us the pleasure of seeing you.
Nekaya: I don't think you ought to talk to us like that.
Kalyba: It's calculated to turn our heads.
Nekaya: Attractive girls cannot be too particular.
Kalyba: Oh pray, pray do not take advantage of our unprotected
inno-cence.
Gold.: Pray be reassured—you are in no danger whatever.
Lord D.: But may I ask—is this extreme delicacy—this
shrinking sensitiveness—a general characteristic of Utopian
young ladies?
Nekaya: Oh no; we are crack specimens.
Kalyba: We are the pick of the basket. Would you mind not
coming quite so near? Thank you.
Nekaya: And please don't look at us like that; it unsettles us.
Kalyba: And we don't like it. At least, we do like it; but it's
wrong.
Nekaya: We have enjoyed the inestimable privilege of being
educated by a most refined and easily shocked English lady, on the
very strictest English principles.
Gold.: But, my dear young ladies—-
Kalyba: Oh, don't! You mustn't. It's too affectionate.
Nekaya: It really does unsettle us.
Gold.: Are you really under the impression that English girls
are so ridiculously demure? Why, an English girl of the highest
type is the best, the most beautiful, the bravest, and the
brightest creature that Heaven has conferred upon this world of
ours. She is frank, open-hearted, and fearless, and never shows
in so favorable a light as when she gives her own blameless
impulses full play!
Nekaya Oh, you shocking story! and Kalyba:
Gold.: Not at all. I'm speaking the strict truth. I'll tell
you all about her.
SONG — Mr. Goldbury.
A wonderful joy our eyes to bless,
In her magnificent comeliness,
Is an English girl of eleven stone two,
And five foot ten in her dancing shoe!
She follows the hounds, and on she pounds—
The "field" tails off and the muffs diminish—
Over the hedges and brooks she bounds,
Straight as a crow, from find to finish.
At cricket, her kin will lose or win—
She and her maids, on grass and clover,
Eleven maids out—eleven maids in—
And perhaps an occasional "maiden over!"
Go search the world and search the sea,
Then come you home and sing with me
There's no such gold and no such pearl
As a bright and beautiful English girl!
With a ten-mile spin she stretches her limbs,
She golfs, she punts, she rows, she swims—
She plays, she sings, she dances, too,
From ten or eleven til all is blue!
At ball or drum, til small hours come
(Chaperon's fans concealing her yawning)
She'll waltz away like a teetotum.
And never go home til daylight's dawning.
Lawn-tennis may share her favours fair—
Her eyes a-dance, and her cheeks a-glowing—
Down comes her hair, but then what does she care?
It's all her own and it's worth the showing!
Go search the world, etc.
Her soul is sweet as the ocean air,
For prudery knows no haven there;
To find mock-modesty, please apply
To the conscious blush and the downcast eye.
Rich in the things contentment brings,
In every pure enjoyment wealthy,
Blithe and beautiful bird she sings,
For body and mind are hale and healthy.
Her eyes they thrill with right goodwill—
Her heart is light as a floating feather—
As pure and bright as the mountain rill
That leaps and laughs in the Highland heather!
Go search the world, etc.
QUARTET
Nek.: Then I may sing and play?
Lord D.: You may!
Kal.: Then I may laugh and shout?
Gold.: No doubt!.
Nek.: These maxims you endorse?
Lord D.: Of course!
Kal.: You won't exclaim "Oh fie!"
Gold.: Not I!
Gold: Whatever you are—be that:
Whatever you say—be true:
Straightforwardly act—
Be honest—in fact,
Be nobody else but you.
Lord D.: Give every answer pat—
Your character true unfurl;
And when it is ripe,
You'll then be a type
Of a capital English girl.
All.: Oh sweet surprise—oh, dear delight,
To find it undisputed quite,
All musty, fusty rules despite
That Art is wrong and Nature right!
Nek.: When happy I,
With laughter glad
I'll wake the echoes fairly,
And only sigh
When I am sad—
And that will be but rarely!
Kal.: I'll row and fish,
And gallop, soon—
No longer be a prim one—
And when I wish
To hum a tune,
It needn't be a hymn one?
Gold and Lord D.: No, no!
It needn't be a hymn one!
All (dancing): Oh, sweet surprise and dear delight
To find it undisputed quite—
All musty, fusty rules despite—
That Art is wrong and Nature right!
(Dance, and off)
(Enter Lady Sophy)
RECITATIVE — Lady Sophy.
Oh, would some demon power the gift impart
To quell my over-conscientious heart—
Unspeak the oaths that never had been spoken,
And break the vows that never should be broken!
SONG — Lady Sophy
When but a maid of fifteen year,
Unsought—unplighted—
Short petticoated—and, I fear,
Still shorter-sighted—
I made a vow, one early spring,
That only to some spotless King
Who proof of blameless life could bring
I'd be united.
For I had read, not long before,
Of blameless kings in fairy lore,
And thought the race still flourished here—
Well, well—
I was a maid of fifteen year!
(The King enters and overhears this verse)
Each morning I pursued my game
(An early riser);
For spotless monarchs I became
An advertiser:
But all in vain I searched each land,
So, kingless, to my native strand
Returned, a little older, and
A good deal wiser!
I learnt that spotless King and Prince
Have disappeared some ages since—
Even Paramount's angelic grace—
Ah me!—
Is but a mask on Nature's face!
(King comes forward)
King: Ah, Lady Sophy—then you love me!
For so you sing—
Lady S.: (Indignant and surprise. Producing "Palace Peeper")
No, by the stars that shine above me,
Degraded King!
For while these rumours, through the city bruited,
Remain uncontradicted, unrefuted,
The object thou of my aversion rooted,
Repulsive thing!
King: Be just—the time is now at hand
When truth may published be.
These paragraphs were written and
Contributed by me!
Lady S.: By you? No, no!
King: Yes, yes. I swear, by me!
I, caught in Scaphio's ruthless toil,
Contributed the lot!
Lady S.: That that is why you did not boil
The author on the spot!
King: And that is why I did not boil
The author on the spot!
Lady S.: I couldn't think why you did not boil!
King: But I know why I did not boil
The author on the spot!
DUET — Lady Sophy and King
Lady S.: Oh, the rapture unrestrained
Of a candid retractation!
For my sovereign has deigned
A convincing explanation—
And the clouds that gathered o'er
All have vanished in the distance,
And of Kings of fairy lore
One, at least, is in existence!
King: Oh, the skies are blue above,
And the earth is red and rosal,
Now the lady of my love
Has accepted my proposal!
For that asinorum pons
I have crossed without assistance,
And of prudish paragons
One, at least, is in existence!
(King and Lady Sophy dance gracefully. While this is going on
Lord Dramaleigh enters unobserved with Nekaya and Capt.
Fitzbattleaxe. The two girls direct Zara's attention to the King
and Lady Sophy, who are still dancing affectionately together. At
this point the King kisses Lady Sophy, which causes the Princesses
to make an exclamation. The King and Lady Sophy are at first much
confused at being detected, but eventually throw off all reserve,
and the four couples break into a wild Tarantella, and at the end
exeunt severally.)
Enter all the male Chorus, in great excitement, from various
entrances, led by Scaphio, Phantis, and Tarara, and followed by
the female Chorus.
CHORUS.
Upon our sea-girt land
At our enforced command
Reform has laid her hand
Like some remorseless ogress—
And made us darkly rue
The deeds she dared to do—
And all is owing to
Those hated Flowers of Progress!
So down with them!
So down with them!
Reform's a hated ogress.
So down with them!
So down with them!
Down with the Flowers of Progress!
(Flourish. Enter King, his three daughters, Lady Sophy, and the
Flowers of Progress.)
King: What means this most unmannerly irruption?
Is this your gratitude for boons conferred?
Scaphio: Boons? Bah! A fico for such boons, say we!
These boons have brought Utopia to a standstill!
Our pride and boast—the Army and the Navy—
Have both been reconstructed and remodeled
Upon so irresistible a basis
That all the neighboring nations have disarmed—
And War's impossible! Your County Councillor
Has passed such drastic Sanitary laws
That all doctors dwindle, starve, and die!
The laws, remodeled by Sir Bailey Barre,
Have quite extinguished crime and litigation:
The lawyers starve, and all the jails are let
As model lodgings for the working-classes!
In short—Utopia, swamped by dull Prosperity,
Demands that these detested Flowers of Progress
Be sent about their business, and affairs
Restored to their original complexion!
King: (to Zara) My daughter, this is a very unpleasant state
of things. What is to be done?
Zara: I don't know—I don't understand it. We must have
omitted something.
King: Omitted something? Yes, that's all very well,
but—-(Sir Bailey Barre whispers to Zara.)
Zara: (suddenly) Of course! Now I remember! Why, I had
forgot-ten the most essential element of all!
King: And that is?—-
Zara: Government by Party! Introduce that great and glorious
element—at once the bulwark and foundation of England's
greatness—and all will be well! No political measures will
endure, because one Party will assuredly undo all that the other
Party has done; and while grouse is to be shot, and foxes worried
to death, the legislative action of the coun-try will be at a
standstill. Then there will be sickness in plenty, endless
lawsuits, crowded jails, interminable confu-sion in the Army and
Navy, and, in short, general and unex-ampled prosperity!
All: Ulahlica! Ulahlica!
Phantis: (aside) Baffled!
Scaphio: But an hour will come!
King: Your hour has come already—away with them, and let
them wait my will! (Scaphio and Phantis are led off in custody.)
From this moment Government by Party is adopted, with all its
attendant blessings; and henceforward Utopia will no longer be a
Monarchy Limited, but, what is a great deal better, a Limited
Monarchy!
FINALE
Zara: There's a little group of isles beyond the wave—
So tiny, you might almost wonder where it is—
That nation is the bravest of the brave,
And cowards are the rarest of all rarities.
The proudest nations kneel at her command;
She terrifies all foreign-born rapscallions;
And holds the peace of Europe in her hand
With half a score invincible battalions!
Such, at least, is the tale
Which is born on the gale,
From the island which dwells in the sea.
Let us hope, for her sake
That she makes no mistake—
That she's all the professes to be!
King: Oh, may we copy all her maxims wise,
And imitate her virtues and her charities;
And may we, by degrees, acclimatize
Her Parliamentary peculiarities!
By doing so, we shall in course of time,
Regenerate completely our entire land—
Great Britain is the monarchy sublime,
To which some add (others do not) Ireland.
Such at least is the tale, etc.
CURTAIN.
THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD
or
The Merryman and His Maid
Book by
W.S. GILBERT
Music by
ARTHUR SULLIVAN
First produced at the Savoy Theatre in London, England,
on October 3, 1888.
THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
SIR RICHARD CHOLMONDELEY [pronounced Chum'lee]
(Lieutenant of the Tower) Baritone
COLONEL FAIRFAX (under sentence of death) Tenor
SERGEANT MERYLL (of the Yeomen of the Guard) Bass/Baritone
LEONARD MERYLL (his son) Tenor
JACK POINT (a Strolling Jester) Light Baritone
WILFRED SHADBOLT
(Head Jailer and Assistant Tormentor) Bass/Baritone
THE HEADSMAN Non-singing
FIRST YEOMAN Baritone
SECOND YEOMAN Tenor
THIRD YEOMAN [optional] Baritone
FOURTH YEOMAN [optional] Tenor
FIRST CITIZEN Chorus
SECOND CITIZEN Chorus
ELSIE MAYNARD (a Strolling Singer) Soprano
PHOEBE MERYLL (Sergeant Meryll's Daughter) Mezzo-Soprano
DAME CARRUTHERS (Housekeeper to the Tower) Contralto
KATE (her Niece) Soprano
Chorus of YEOMEN of the Guard, GENTLEMEN, CITIZENS, etc.
SCENE: Tower Green
16th Century
ACT I
[Scene.— Tower Green]
[Phoebe discovered spinning.
No. 1. When maiden loves, she sits and sighs
(INTRODUCTION and SONG)
Phoebe
PHOEBE When maiden loves, she sits and sighs,
She wanders to and fro;
Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes,
And to all questions she replies,
With a sad "Heigh-ho!"
'Tis but a little word—"Heigh-ho!"
So soft, 'tis scarcely heard—"Heigh-ho!"
An idle breath—
Yet life and death
May hang upon a maid's "Heigh-ho!"
When maiden loves, she mopes apart,
As owl mopes on a tree;
Although she keenly feels the smart,
She cannot tell what ails her heart,
With its sad "Ah, me!"
'Tis but a foolish sigh—"Ah, me!"
Born but to droop and die—"Ah, me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
"Ah, me!", "Ah, me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
[PHOEBE weeps
[Enter WILFRED
WILFRED Mistress Meryll!
PHOEBE [looking up] Eh! Oh! it's you, is it? You may go
away,if you like. Because I don't want you, you know.
WILFRED Haven't you anything to say to me?
PHOEBE Oh yes! Are the birds all caged? The wild beasts all
littered down? All the locks, chains, bolts, and bars
in good order? Is the Little Ease sufficiently
comfortable? The racks, pincers, and thumbscrews all
ready for work? Ugh! you brute!
WILFRED These allusions to my professional duties are in
doubtful taste. I didn't become a head-jailer because
I like head-jailing. I didn't become an assistant-
tormentor because I like assistant-tormenting. We
can't all be sorcerers, you know. [PHOEBE is annoyed]
Ah! you brought that upon yourself.
PHOEBE Colonel Fairfax is not a sorcerer. He's a man of
science and an alchemist.
WILFRED Well, whatever he is, he won't be one for long, for
he's to be beheaded to-day for dealings with the
devil. His master nearly had him last night, when the
fire broke out in the Beauchamp [pronounced Bee'cham]
Tower.
PHOEBE Oh! how I wish he had escaped in the confusion! But
take care; there's still time for a reply to his
petition for mercy.
WILFRED Ah! I'm content to chance that. This evening at half-
past seven— ah! [Gesture of chopping off a head.]
PHOEBE You're a cruel monster to speak so unfeelingly of the
death of a young and handsome soldier.
WILFRED Young and handsome! How do you know he's young and
handsome?
PHOEBE Because I've seen him every day for weeks past taking
his exercise on the Beauchamp [pronounced Bee'cham]
Tower.
WILFRED Curse him!
PHOEBE There, I believe you're jealous of him, now. Jealous
of a man I've never spoken to! Jealous of a poor soul
who's to die in an hour!
WILFRED I am! I'm jealous of everybody and everything. I'm
jealous of the very words I speak to you— because they
reach your ears— and I mustn't go near 'em!
PHOEBE How unjust you are! Jealous of the words you speak to
me! Why, you know as well as I do that I don't even
like them.
WILFRED You used to like 'em.
PHOEBE I used to pretend I like them. It was mere politeness
to comparative strangers.
[Exit PHOEBE, with spinning wheel
WILFRED I don't believe you know what jealousy is! I don't
believe you know how it eats into a man's heart— and
disorders his digestion— and turns his interior into
boiling lead. Oh, you are a heartless jade to trifle
with the delicate organization of the human interior.
No. 1A. When jealous torments
(OPTIONAL SONG)
Wilfred
WILFRED When jealous torments rack my soul,
My agonies I can't control,
Oh, better sit on red hot coal
Than love a heartless jade.
The red hot coal will hurt no doubt,
But red hot coals in time die out,
But jealousy you can not rout,
Its fires will never fade.
It's much less painful on the whole
To go and sit on red hot coal
'Til you're completely flayed,
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade,
Than love a heartless jade.
The kerchief on your neck of snow
I look on as a deadly foe,
It goeth where I dare not go
And stops there all day long.
The belt that holds you in its grasp
Is to my peace of mind a rasp,
It claspeth what I can not clasp,
Correct me if I'm wrong.
It's much less painful on the whole
To go and sit on red hot coal
'Til you're completely flayed,
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade,
Than love a heartless jade.
The bird that breakfasts on your lip,
I would I had him in my grip,
He sippeth where I dare not sip,
I can't get over that.
The cat you fondle soft and sly,
He layeth where I dare not lie.
We're not on terms, that cat and I.
I do not like that cat.
It's much less painful on the whole
To go and sit on red hot coal
'Til you're completely flayed,
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade,
Than love a heartless jade.
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade.
[Exit WILFRED. Enter people excitedly, followed by YEOMEN
of the Guard with SERGEANT MERYLL at rear.
No. 2. Tower warders, Under orders
(Double Chorus)
CROWD and YEOMEN, with Solo 2ND YEOMEN
CROWD Tower warders,
Under orders,
Gallant pikemen, valiant sworders!
Brave in bearing,
Foemen scaring,
In their bygone days of daring!
Ne'er a stranger
There to danger—
Each was o'er the world a ranger;
To the story
Of our glory
Each a bold, a bold contributory!
YEOMEN In the autumn of our life,
Here at rest in ample clover,
We rejoice in telling over
Our impetuous May and June.
In the evening of our day,
With the sun of life declining,
We recall without repining
All the heat of bygone noon,
We recall without repining
All the heat,
We recall, recall
All of bygone noon.
2ND YEOMAN This the autumn of our life,
This the evening of our day;
Weary we of battle strife,
Weary we of mortal fray.
But our year is not so spent,
And our days are not so faded,
But that we with one consent,
Were our loved land invaded,
Still would face a foreign foe,
As in days of long ago,
Still would face a foreign foe,
As in days of long ago,
As in days of long ago,
As in days of long ago.
YEOMEN Still would face a foreign foe,
As in days of long ago.
CROWD Tower warders,
Under orders,
Gallant pikemen, valiant sworders!
Brave in bearing, Foemen scaring,
In their bygone days of daring!
CROWD YEOMEN
Tower warders, This the autumn of our life
Under orders,
Gallant pikemen,
Valiant sworders
Brave in bearing, This the evening of our day;
Foemen scaring,
In their bygone days of daring!
Ne'er a stranger Weary we of battle strife,
There to danger
Each was o'er the world a ranger:
To the story Weary we of mortal fray.
Of our glory
Each a bold,
A bold contributory.
To the story This the autumn of our life.
Of our glory
Each a bold contributory! This the evening of our day,
Each a bold contributory! This the evening of our day.
[Exit CROWD. Manent YEOMEN. Enter DAME CARRUTHERS.
DAME A good day to you!
2ND
YEOMAN Good day, Dame Carruthers. Busy to-day?
DAME Busy, aye! the fire in the Beauchamp [pronounced
Bee'cham] last night has given me work enough. A dozen
poor prisoners— Richard Colfax, Sir Martin Byfleet,
Colonel Fairfax, Warren the preacher-poet, and half-a-
score others— all packed into one small cell, not six
feet square. Poor Colonel Fairfax, who's to die to-
day, is to be removed to no. 14 in the Cold Harbour
that he may have his last hour alone with his
confessor; and I've to see to that.
2ND
YEOMAN Poor gentleman! He'll die bravely. I fought under him
two years since, and he valued his life as it were a
feather!
PHOEBE He's the bravest, the handsomest, and the best young
gentleman in England! He twice saved my father's life;
and it's a cruel thing, a wicked thing, and a
barbarous thing that so gallant a hero should lose his
head— for it's the handsomest head in England!
DAME For dealings with the devil. Aye! if all were beheaded
who dealt with him, there'd be busy things on Tower
Green.
PHOEBE You know very well that Colonel Fairfax is a student
of alchemy— nothing more, and nothing less; but this
wicked Tower, like a cruel giant in a fairy-tale, must
be fed with blood, and that blood must be the best and
bravest in England, or it's not good enough for the
old Blunderbore. Ugh!
DAME Silence, you silly girl; you know not what you say. I
was born in the old keep, and I've grown grey in it,
and, please God, I shall die and be buried in it; and
there's not a stone in its walls that is not as dear
tome as my right hand.
No. 3. When our gallant Norman foes
(SONG WITH CHORUS)
Dame Carruthers and Yeomen
DAME When our gallant Norman foes
Made our merry land their own,
And the Saxons from the Conqueror were flying,
At his bidding it arose,
In its panoply of stone,
A sentinel unliving and undying.
Insensible, I trow,
As a sentinel should be,
Though a queen to save her head should
come a-suing,
There's a legend on its brow
That is eloquent to me,
And it tells of duty done and duty doing.
The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
CHORUS The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
DAME Within its wall of rock
The flower of the brave
Have perished with a constancy unshaken.
From the dungeon to the block,
From the scaffold to the grave,
Is a journey many gallant hearts have taken.
And the wicked flames may hiss
Round the heroes who have fought
For conscience and for home in all its beauty,
But the grim old fortalice
Takes little heed of aught
That comes not in the measure of its duty.
The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
CHORUS The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
[Exeunt all but PHOEBE. Enter SERGEANT MERYLL.
PHOEBE Father! Has no reprieve arrived for the poor
gentleman?
MERYLL No, my lass; but there's one hope yet. Thy brother
Leonard, who, as a reward for his valour in saving his
standard and cutting his way through fifty foes who
would have hanged him, has been appointed a Yeoman of
the Guard, will arrive to-day; and as he comes
straight from Windsor, where the Court is, it may be—
it may be— that he will bring the expected reprieve
with him.
PHOEBE Oh, that he may!
MERYLL Amen to that! For the Colonel twice saved my life, and
I'd give the rest of my life to save his! And wilt
thou not be glad to welcome thy brave brother, with
the fame of whose exploits all England is a-ringing?
PHOEBE Aye, truly, if he brings the reprieve.
MERYLL And not otherwise?
PHOEBE Well, he's a brave fellow indeed, and I love brave
men.
MERYLL All brave men?
PHOEBE Most of them, I verily believe! But I hope Leonard
will not be too strict with me— they say he is a very
dragon of virtue and circumspection! Now, my dear old
father is kindness itself, and——
MERYLL And leaves thee pretty well to thine own ways, eh?
Well, I've no fears for thee; thou hast a feather-
brain, but thou'rt a good lass.
PHOEBE Yes, that's all very well, but if Leonard is going to
tell me that I may not do this and I may not do that,
and I must not talk to this one, or walk with that
one, but go through the world with my lips pursed up
and my eyes cats down, like a poor nun who has
renounced mankind— why, as I have not renounced
mankind, and don't mean to renounce mankind, I won't
have it— there!
MERYLL Nay, he'll not check thee more than is good for thee,
Phoebe! He's a brave fellow, and bravest among brave
fellows, and yet it seems but yesterday that he robbed
the Lieutenant's orchard.
No. 3A. A laughing boy
(OPTIONAL SONG)
Sergeant Meryll
MERYLL A laughing boy but yesterday,
A merry urchin blithe and gay,
Whose joyous shout came ringing out
Unchecked by care or sorrow.
Today a warrior all sunbrown,
When deeds of soldierly renown
Are not the boast of London town,
A veteran tomorrow, today a warrior,
A veteran tomorrow!
When at my Leonard's deeds sublime,
A soldier's pulse beats double time,
And grave hearts thrill as brave hearts will
At tales of martial glory.
I burn with flush of pride and joy,
A pride unbittered by alloy,
To find my boy, my darling boy,
The theme of song and story,
To find my darling boy
The theme of song and story!
To find my boy, my darling boy,
The theme of song and story!
[Enter LEONARD MERYLL
LEONARD Father!
MERYLL Leonard! my brave boy! I'm right glad to see thee, and
so is Phoebe!
PHOEBE Aye— hast thou brought Colonel Fairfax's reprieve?
LEONARD Nay, I have here a despatch for the Lieutenant, but no
reprieve for the Colonel!
PHOEBE Poor gentleman! poor gentleman!
LEONARD Aye, I would I had brought better news. I'd give my
right hand— nay, my body— my life, to save his!
MERYLL Dost thou speak in earnest, my lad?
LEONARD Aye, father— I'm no braggart. Did he not save thy
life? and am I not his foster-brother?
MERYLL Then hearken to me. Thou hast come to join the Yeomen
of the Guard!
LEONARD Well?
MERYLL None has seen thee but ourselves?
LEONARD And a sentry, who took scant notice of me.
MERYLL Now to prove thy words. Give me the despatch and get
thee hence at once! Here is money, and I'll send thee
more. Lie hidden for a space, and let no one know.
I'll convey a suit of Yeoman's uniform to the
Colonel's cell— he shall shave off his beard, so that
none shall know him, and I'll own him as my son, the
brave Leonard Meryll, who saved his flag and cut his
way through fifty foes who thirsted for his life. He
will be welcomed without question by my brother-
Yeomen, I'll warrant that. Now, how to get access to
the Colonel's cell? [To PHOEBE] The key is with they
sour-faced admirer, Wilfred Shadbolt.
PHOEBE [demurely] I think— I say, I think— I can get anything
I want from Wilfred. I think— mind I say, I think— you
may leave that to me.
MERYLL Then get thee hence at once, lad— and bless thee for
this sacrifice.
PHOEBE And take my blessing, too, dear, dear Leonard!
LEONARD And thine. eh? Humph! Thy love is newborn; wrap it up
carefully, lest it take cold and die.
No. 4. Alas! I waver to and fro
(TRIO)
Phoebe, Leonard, and Meryll
PHOEBE Alas! I waver to and fro!
Dark danger hangs upon the deed!
ALL Dark danger hangs upon the deed!
LEONARD The scheme is rash and well may fail;
But ours are not the hearts that quail,
The hands that shrink, the cheeks that pale
In hours of need!
ALL No, ours are not the hearts that quail,
The hands that shrink, the cheeks that pale
The hands that shrink, the cheeks that pale
In hours of need!
MERYLL The air I breathe to him I owe:
My life is his— I count it naught!
PHOEBE
and LEONARD That life is his— so count it naught!
MERYLL And shall I reckon risks I run
When services are to be done
To save the life of such an one?
Unworthy thought! Unworthy thought!
PHOEBE
and LEONARD And shall we reckon risks we run
To save the life of such an one?
ALL Unworthy thought! Unworthy thought!
We may succeed— who can foretell?
May heav'n help our hope—
May heav'n help our hope,
farewell!
May heav'n help our hope,
Help our hope,
farewell!
[LEONARD embraces MERYLL and PHOEBE, and then exits. PHOEBE
weeping.
MERYLL [goes up to PHOEBE] Nay, lass, be of good cheer, we
may save him yet.
PHOEBE Oh! see, after— they bring the poor gentleman from the
Beauchamp! [pronounced Bee'cham] Oh, father! his hour
is not yet come?
MERYLL No, no— they lead him to the Cold Harbour Tower to
await his end in solitude. But softly— the Lieutenant
approaches! He should not see thee weep.
[Enter FAIRFAX, guarded by YEOMEN. The LIEUTENANT enters,
meeting him.
LIEUT. Halt! Colonel Fairfax, my old friend, we meet but
sadly.
FAIRFAX Sir, I greet you with all good-will; and I thank you
for the zealous acre with which you have guarded me
from the pestilent dangers which threaten human life
outside. In this happy little community, Death, when
he comes, doth so in punctual and business-like
fashion; and, like a courtly gentleman, giveth due
notice of his advent, that one may not be taken
unawares.
LIEUT. Sir, you bear this bravely, as a brave man should.
FAIRFAX Why, sir, it is no light boon to die swiftly and
surely at a given hour and in a given fashion! Truth
to tell, I would gladly have my life; but if that may
not be, I have the next best thing to it, which is
death. Believe me, sir, my lot is not so much amiss!
PHOEBE [aside to MERYLL] Oh, father, father, I cannot bear
it!
MERYLL My poor lass!
FAIRFAX Nay, pretty one, why weepest thou? Come, be comforted.
Such a life as mine is not worth weeping for. [sees
MERYLL] Sergeant Meryll, is it not? [to LIEUTENANT]
May I greet my old friend? [Shakes MERYLL's hand;
MERYLL begins to weep] Why, man, what's all this? Thou
and I have faced the grim old king a dozen times, and
never has his majesty come to me in such goodly
fashion. Keep a stout heart, good fellow— we are
soldiers, and we know how to die, thou and I. Take my
word for it, it is easier to die well than to live
well— for, in sooth, I have tried both.
No. 5. Is life a boon?
(BALLAD)
Fairfax
FAIRFAX Is life a boon?
If so, it must befall
That Death, whene'er he call,
Must call too soon.
Though fourscore years he give,
Yet one would pray to live
Another moon!
What kind of plaint have I,
Who perish in July,
who perish in July?
I might have had to die,
Perchance, in June!
I might have had to die,
Perchance, in June!
Is life a thorn?
Then count it not a whit!
Nay, count it not a whit!
Man is well done with it;
Soon as he's born
He should all means essay
To put the plague away;
And I, war-worn,
Poor captured fugitive,
My life most gladly give—
I might have had to live,
Another morn!
I might have had to live,
Another morn!
[At the end, PHOEBE is led off, weeping, by MERYLL.
FAIRFAX And now, Sir Richard, I have a boon to beg. I am in
this strait for no better reason than because my
kinsman, Sir Clarence Poltwhistle, one of the
Secretaries of State, has charged me with sorcery, in
order that he may succeed in my estate, which devolves
to him provided I die unmarried.
LIEUT. As thou wilt most surely do.
FAIRFAX Nay, as I will most surely not do, by your worship's
grace! I have a mind to thwart this good cousin of
mine.
LIEUT. How?
FAIRFAX By marrying forthwith, to be sure!
LIEUT. But heaven ha' mercy, whom wouldst thou marry?
FAIRFAX Nay, I am indifferent on that score. Coming Death hath
made of me a true and chivalrous knight, who holds all
womankind in such esteem that the oldest, and the
meanest, and the worst-favoured of them is good enough
for him. So, my good Lieutenant, if thou wouldst serve
a poor soldier who has but an hour to live, find me
the first that comes— my confessor shall marry us, and
her dower shall be my dishonoured name and a hundred
crowns to boot. No such poor dower for an hour of
matrimony!
LIEUT. A strange request. I doubt that I should be warranted
in granting it.
FAIRFAX There never was a marriage fraught with so little of
evil to the contracting parties. In an hour she'll be
a widow, and I— a bachelor again for aught I know!
LIEUT. Well, I will see what can be done, for I hold thy
kinsman in abhorrence for the scurvy trick he has
played thee.
FAIRFAX A thousand thanks, good sir; we meet again in this
spot in an hour or so. I shall be a bridegroom then,
and your worship will wish me joy. Till then,
farewell. [To GUARD] I am ready, good fellows.
[Exit with GUARD into Cold Harbour Tower]
LIEUT. He is a brave fellow, and it is a pity that he should
die. Now, how to find him a bride at such short
notice? Well, the task should be easy! [Exit]
[Enter JACK POINT and ELSIE MAYNARD, pursued by a CROWD of
men and women. POINT and ELSIE are much terrified; POINT,
however, assuming an appearance of self-possession.
No. 6. Here's a man of jollity
(CHORUS)
People, Elsie, and Jack Point
CHORUS Here's a man of jollity,
Jibe, joke, jollify!
Give us of your quality,
Come, fool, follify!
If you vapour vapidly,
River runneth rapidly,
Into it we fling
Bird who doesn't sing!
Give us an experiment
In the art of merriment;
Into it we throw
Cock who doesn't crow!
Banish your timidity,
And with all rapidity
Give us quip and quiddity—
Willy-nilly, O!
River none can mollify;
Into it we throw
Fool who doesn't follify,
Cock who doesn't crow!
Banish your timidity,
And with all rapidity
Give us quip and quiddity—
Willy-nilly, O!
POINT [alarmed] My masters, I pray you bear with us, and we
will satisfy you, for we are merry folk who would make
all merry as ourselves. For, look you, there is humour
in all things, and the truest philosophy is that which
teaches us to find it and to make the most of it.
ELSIE [struggling with 1ST CITIZEN] Hands off, I say,
unmannerly fellow! [she boxes his ears]
POINT [to 1ST CITIZEN] Ha! Didst thou hear her say, "Hands
off"?
1ST
CITIZEN Aye, I heard her say it, and I felt her do it! What
then?
POINT Thou dost not see the humour of that?
1ST
CITIZEN Nay, if I do, hang me!
POINT Thou dost not? Now, observe. She said, "Hands off!
"Whose hands? Thine. Off whom? Off her. Why? Because
she is a woman. Now, had she not been a woman, thine
hands had not been set upon her at all. So the reason
for the laying on of hands is the reason for the
taking off of hands, and herein is contradiction
contradicted! It is the very marriage of pro with con;
and no such lopsided union either, as times go, for
pro is not more unlike con than man is unlike woman—
yet men and women marry every day with none to say,
"Oh, the pity of it!" but I and fools like me! Now
wherewithal shall we please you? We can rhyme you
couplet, triolet, quatrain, sonnet,rondolet, ballade,
what you will. Or we can dance you saraband, gondolet,
carole, pimpernel, or Jumping Joan.
ELSIE Let us give them the singing farce of the Merryman and
his Maid— therein is song and dance too.
ALL Aye, the Merryman and his Maid!
No. 7. I have a song to sing, O!
(DUET)
Elsie and Point
POINT I have a song to sing, O!
ELSIE Sing me your song, O!
POINT It is sung to the moon
By a love-lorn loon,
Who fled from the mocking throng, O!
It's a song of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
ELSIE I have a song to sing, O!
POINT Sing me your song, O!
ELSIE It is sung with the ring
Of the songs maids sing
Who love with a love life-long, O!
It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
POINT I have a song to sing, O!
ELSIE Sing me your song, O!
POINT It is sung to the knell
Of a churchyard bell,
And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O!
It's a song of a popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
ELSIE I have a song to sing, O!
POINT Sing me your song, O!
ELSIE It is sung with a sigh
And a tear in the eye,
For it tells of a righted wrong, O!
It's a song of the merrymaid, once so gay,
Who turned on her heel and tripped away
From the peacock popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble heart that he did not prize:
So she begged on her knees, with downcast eyes,
For the love of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
BOTH Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more,
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more,
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
1ST
CITIZEN Well sung and well danced!
2ND
CITIZEN A kiss for that, pretty maid!
ALL Aye, a kiss all round. [CROWD gathers around her]
ELSIE [drawing dagger] Best beware! I am armed!
POINT Back, sirs— back! This is going too far.
2ND
CITIZEN Thou dost not see the humour of it, eh? Yet there is
humour in all things— even in this. [Trying to kiss
her]
ELSIE Help! Help!
[Enter LIEUTENANT with GUARD. CROWD falls back
LIEUT. What is the pother?
ELSIE Sir, we sang to these folk, and they would have repaid
us with gross courtesy, but for your honour's coming.
LIEUT. [to CROWD] Away with ye! Clear the rabble.
[GUARDS push CROWD off, and go off with them]
Now, my girl, who are you, and what do you here?
ELSIE May it please you, sir, we are two strolling players,
Jack Point and I, Elsie Maynard, at your worship's
service. We go from fair to fair, singing, and
dancing, and playing brief interludes; and so we make
a poor living.
LIEUT. You two, eh? Are ye man and wife?
POINT No, sir; for though I'm a fool, there is a limit to my
folly. Her mother, old Bridget Maynard, travels with
us (for Elsie is a good girl), but the old woman is a-
bed with fever, and we have come here to pick up some
silver to buy an electuary for her.
LIEUT. Hark ye, my girl! Your mother is ill?
ELSIE Sorely ill, sir.
LIEUT. And needs good food, and many things that thou canst
not buy?
ELSIE Alas! sir, it is too true.
LIEUT. Wouldst thou earn an hundred crowns?
ELSIE An hundred crowns! They might save her life!
LIEUT. Then listen! A worthy but unhappy gentleman is to be
beheaded in an hour on this very spot. For sufficient
reasons, he desires to marry before he dies, and he
hath asked me to find him a wife. Wilt thou be that
wife?
ELSIE The wife of a man I have never seen!
POINT Why, sir, look you, I am concerned in this; for though
I am not yet wedded to Elsie Maynard, time works
wonders, and there's no knowing what may be in store
for us. Have we your worship's word for it that this
gentleman will die to-day?
LIEUT. Nothing is more certain, I grieve to say.
POINT And that the maiden will be allowed to depart the very
instant the ceremony is at an end?
LIEUT. The very instant. I pledge my honour that it shall be
so.
POINT An hundred crowns?
LIEUT. An hundred crowns!
POINT For my part, I consent. It is for Elsie to speak.
No. 8. How say you, maiden, will you wed
(TRIO)
Elsie, Point, and Lieutenant
LIEUT. How say you, maiden, will you wed
A man about to lose his head?
For half an hour
You'll be his wife,
And then the dower
Is your for life.
A headless bridegroom why refuse?
If truth the poets tell,
Most bridegrooms, 'ere they marry,
Lose both head and heart as well!
ELSIE A strange proposal you reveal,
It almost makes my senses reel.
Alas! I'm very poor indeed,
And such a sum I sorely need.
My mother, sir, is like to die.
This money life may bring.
Bear this in mind, I pray,
If I consent to do this thing!
POINT Though as a general rule of life
I don't allow my promised wife,
My lovely bride that is to be,
To marry anyone but me,
Yet if the fee is promptly paid,
And he, in well-earned grave,
Within the hour is duly laid,
Objection I will waive!
Yes, objection I will waive!
ALL Temptation, oh, temptation,
Were we, I pray, intended
To shun, what e'er our station,
Your fascinations splendid;
Or fall, whene'er we view you,
Head over heels into you?
Head over heels, Head over heels,
Head over heels into you!
Head over heels, Head over heels,
Head over heels, Right into you!
Head over heels, Head over heels, etc.
Temptation, oh, temptation!
[During this, the LIEUTENANT has whispered to WILFRED
(who has entered). WILFRED binds ELSIE's eyes with a
kerchief, and leads her into the Cold Harbour Tower
LIEUT. And so, good fellow, you are a jester?
POINT Aye, sir, and like some of my jests, out of place.
LIEUT. I have a vacancy for such an one. Tell me, what are
your qualifications for such a post?
POINT Marry, sir, I have a pretty wit. I can rhyme you
extempore; I can convulse you with quip and
conundrum;I have the lighter philosophies at my
tongue's tip; I can be merry, wise, quaint, grim, and
sardonic, one by one, or all at once; I have a pretty
turn for anecdote; I know all the jests— ancient and
modern— past, present, and to come; I can riddle you
from dawn of day to set of sun, and, if that content
you not, well on to midnight and the small hours. Oh,
sir, a pretty wit, I warrant you— a pretty, pretty
wit!
No. 9. I've jibe and joke
(SONG)
Point
POINT I've jibe and joke
And quip and crank
For lowly folk
And men of rank.
I ply my craft
And know no fear.
But aim my shaft
At prince or peer.
At peer or prince— at prince or peer,
I aim my shaft and know no fear!
I've wisdom from the East and from the West,
That's subject to no academic rule;
You may find it in the jeering of a jest,
Or distil it from the folly of a fool.
I can teach you with a quip, if I've a mind;
I can trick you into learning with a laugh;
Oh, winnow all my folly, folly, folly, and
you'll find
A grain or two of truth among the chaff!
Oh, winnow all my folly, folly, folly, and
you'll find
A grain or two of truth among the chaff!
I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,
The upstart I can wither with a whim;
He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,
But his laughter has an echo that is grim.
When they're offered to the world in merry
guise,
Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will,
For he who'd make his fellow,
fellow, fellow creatures wise
Should always gild the philosophic pill!
For he who'd make his fellow,
fellow, fellow creatures wise
Should always gild the philosophic pill!
LIEUT. And how came you to leave your last employ?
POINT Why, sir, it was in this wise. My Lord was the
Archbishop of Canterbury, and it was considered that
one of my jokes was unsuited to His Grace's family
circle. In truth, I ventured to ask a poor riddle,
sir— Wherein lay the difference between His Grace and
poor Jack Point? His Grace was pleased to give it up,
sir. And thereupon I told him that whereas His Grace
was paid 10,000 a year for being good, poor Jack Point
was good— for nothing. 'Twas but a harmless jest, but
it offended His Grace, who whipped me and set me in
the stocks for a scurril rogue, and so we parted. I
had as lief not take post again with the dignified
clergy.
LIEUT. But I trust you are very careful not to give offence.
I have daughters.
POINT Sir, my jests are most carefully selected, and
anything objectionable is expunged. If your honour
pleases, I will try then first on your honour's
chaplain.
LIEUT. Can you give me an example? Say that I had sat me down
hurriedly on something sharp?
POINT Sir, I should say that you had sat down on the spur of
the moment.
LIEUT. Humph! I don't think much of that. Is that the best
you can do?
POINT It has always been much admired, sir, but we will try
again.
LIEUT. Well, then, I am at dinner, and the joint of meat is
but half cooked.
POINT Why then, sir, I should say that what is underdone
cannot be helped.
LIEUT. I see. I think that manner of thing would be somewhat
irritating.
POINT At first, sir, perhaps; but use is everything, and you
would come in time to like it.
LIEUT. We will suppose that I caught you kissing the kitchen
wench under my very nose.
POINT Under her very nose, good sir— not under yours! That
is where I would kiss her. Do you take me? Oh, sir, a
pretty wit— a pretty, pretty wit!
LIEUT. The maiden comes. Follow me, friend, and we will
discuss this matter at length in my library.
POINT I am your worship's servant. That is to say, I trust
I soon shall be. But, before proceeding to a more
serious topic, can you tell me, sir, why a cook's
brain-pan is like an overwound clock?
LIEUT. A truce to this fooling— follow me.
POINT Just my luck; my best conundrum wasted!
[Exeunt LIEUTENANT and POINT. Enter ELSIE from Tower, led
by WILFRED, who removes the bandage from her eyes, and
exits.
No. 10. 'Tis done! I am a bride!
(RECITATIVE AND SONG)
Elsie
ELSIE 'Tis done! I am a bride! Oh, little ring,
That bearest in thy circlet all the gladness
That lovers hope for, and that poets sing,
What bringest thou to me but gold and sadness?
A bridegroom all unknown, save in this wise,
To-day he dies! To-day, alas, he dies!
Though tear and long-drawn sigh
Ill fit a bride,
No sadder wife than I
The whole world wide!
Ah me! Ah me!
Yet maids there be
Who would consent to lose
The very rose of youth,
The flow'r of life,
To be, in honest truth,
A wedded wife,
No matter whose!
No matter whose!
Ah me! what profit we,
O maids that sigh,
Though gold, though gold should live
If wedded love must die?
Ere half an hour has rung,
A widow I!
Ah, heaven, he is too young,
Too brave to die!
Ah me! Ah me!
Yet wives there be
So weary worn, I trow,
That they would scarce complain,
So that they could
In half an hour attain
To widowhood,
No matter how!
No matter how!
O weary wives
Who widowhood would win,
Rejoice, rejoice, that ye have time
To weary in.
O weary wives
Who widowhood would win,
Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice,
that ye have time
O weary, weary wives, rejoice!
[Exit ELSIE as WILFRED re-enters.
WILFRED [looking after ELSIE] 'Tis an odd freak for a dying
man and his confessor to be closeted alone with a
strange singing girl. I would fain have espied them,
but they stopped up the keyhole. My keyhole!
[Enter PHOEBE with SERGEANT MERYLL. MERYLL remains in the
background, unobserved by WILFRED.
PHOEBE [aside] Wilfred— and alone!
WILFRED Now what could he have wanted with her? That's what
puzzles me!
PHOEBE [aside] Now to get the keys from him.
[Aloud] Wilfred— has no reprieve arrived?
WILFRED None. Thine adored Fairfax is to die.
PHOEBE Nay, thou knowest that I have naught but pity for the
poor condemned gentleman.
WILFRED I know that he who is about to die is more to thee
than I, who am alive and well.
PHOEBE Why, that were out of reason, dear Wilfred. Do they
not say that a live ass is better than a dead lion?
No, I didn't mean that!
WILFRED Oh, they say that, do they?
PHOEBE It's unpardonably rude of them, but I believe they put
it in that way. Not that it applies to thee, who art
clever beyond all telling!
WILFRED Oh yes, as an assistant-tormentor.
PHOEBE Nay, as a wit, as a humorist, as a most philosophic
commentator on the vanity of human resolution.
[PHOEBE slyly takes bunch of keys from WILFRED's waistband
and hands them to MERYLL, who enters the Tower, unnoticed
by WILFRED.
WILFRED Truly, I have seen great resolution give way under my
persuasive methods [working with a small thumbscrew].
In the nice regulation of a thumbscrew— in the
hundredth part of a single revolution lieth all the
difference between stony reticence and a torrent of
impulsive unbosoming that the pen can scarcely follow.
Ha! ha! I am a mad wag.
PHOEBE [with a grimace] Thou art a most light-hearted and
delightful companion, Master Wilfred. Thine anecdotes
of the torture-chamber are the prettiest hearing.
WILFRED I'm a pleasant fellow an' I choose. I believe I am the
merriest dog that barks. Ah, we might be passing happy
together—
PHOEBE Perhaps. I do not know.
WILFRED For thou wouldst make a most tender and loving wife.
PHOEBE Aye, to one whom I really loved. For there is a wealth
of love within this little heart— saving up for— I
wonder whom? Now, of all the world of men, I wonder
whom? To think that he whom I am to wed is now alive
and somewhere! Perhaps far away, perhaps close at
hand! And I know him not! It seemeth that I am wasting
time in not knowing him.
WILFRED Now say that it is I— nay! suppose it for the nonce.
Say that we are wed— suppose it only— say that thou
art my very bride, and I thy cherry, joyous, bright,
frolicsome husband— and that, the day's work being
done, and the prisoners stored away for the night,
thou and I are alone together— with a long, long
evening before us!
PHOEBE [with a grimace] It is a pretty picture— but I
scarcely know. It cometh so unexpectedly— and yet—and
yet— were I thy bride—
WILFRED Aye!— wert thou my bride—?
PHOEBE Oh, how I would love thee!
No. 11. Were I thy bride
(SONG)
Phoebe
PHOEBE Were I thy bride,
Then all the world beside
Were not too wide
To hold my wealth of love—
Were I thy bride!
Upon thy breast
My loving head would rest,
As on her nest
The tender turtle dove—
Were I thy bride!
This heart of mine
Would be one heart with thine,
And in that shrine
Our happiness would dwell—
Were I thy bride!
And all day long
Our lives should be a song:
No grief, no wrong
Should make my heart rebel—
Were I thy bride!
The silvery flute,
The melancholy lute,
Were night-owl's hoot
To my low-whispered coo—
Were I thy bride!
The skylark's trill
Were but discordance shrill
To the soft thrill
Of wooing as I'd woo—
Were I thy bride!
[MERYLL re-enters; gives keys to PHOEBE, who replaces
them at WILFRED's girdle, unnoticed by him. Exit
MERYLL.
The rose's sigh
Were as a carrion's cry
To lullaby
Such as I'd sing to thee,
Were I thy bride!
A feather's press
Were leaden heaviness to my caress.
But then, of course, you see,
I'm not thy bride.
[Exit PHOEBE
WILFRED No, thou'rt not— not yet! But, Lord, how she woo'd; I
should be no mean judge of wooing, seeing that I have
been more hotly woo'd than most men. I have been woo'd
by maid, widow, and wife. I have been woo'd boldly,
timidly, tearfully, shyly— by direct assault, by
suggestion, by implication, by inference, and by
innuendo. But this wooing is not of the common order;
it is the wooing of one who must needs me, if she die
for it!
[Exit WILFRED. Enter SERGEANT MERRILL, cautiously, from
Tower.
MERYLL [looking after them] The deed is, so far, safely
accomplished. The slyboots, how she wheedled him! What
a helpless ninny is a love-sick man! He is but as a
lute in a woman's hands— she plays upon him whatever
tune she will. But the Colonel comes. I' faith, he's
just in time, for the Yeomen parade here for his
execution in two minutes!
[Enter FAIRFAX, without beard and moustache, and dressed in
Yeoman's uniform.
FAIRFAX My good and kind friend, thou runnest a grave risk for
me!
MERYLL Tut, sir, no risk. I'll warrant none here will
recognise you. You make a brave Yeoman, sir! So— this
ruff is too high; so— and the sword should hang thus.
Here is your halbert, sir; carry it thus. The Yeomen
come. Now, remember, you are my brave son, Leonard
Meryll.
FAIRFAX If I may not bear mine own name, there is none other
I would bear so readily.
MERYLL Now, sir, put a bold face on it, for they come.
No. 12. Oh, Sergeant Meryll, is it true
(FINALE OF ACT I)
Ensemble
[Enter YEOMEN of the Guard
YEOMEN Oh, Sergeant Meryll, is it true—
The welcome news we read in orders?
Thy son, whose deeds of derring-do
Are echoed all the country through,
Has come to join the Tower Warders?
If so, we come to meet him,
That we may fitly greet him,
And welcome his arrival here
With shout on shout and cheer on cheer,
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
MERYLL Ye Tower warders, nursed in war's alarms,
Suckled on gunpowder, and weaned on glory,
Behold my son, whose all-subduing arms
Have formed the theme of many a song and story!
Forgive his aged father's pride; nor jeer
His aged father's sympathetic tear!
[Pretending to weep]
YEOMEN Leonard Meryll!
Leonard Meryll!
Dauntless he in time of peril!
Man of power,
Knighthood's flower,
Welcome to the grim old Tower,
To the Tower, welcome thou!
FAIRFAX Forbear, my friends, and spare me this ovation,
I have small claim to such consideration;
The tales that of my prowess are narrated
Have been prodigiously exaggerated,
prodigiously exaggerated!
YEOMEN 'Tis ever thus!
Wherever valor true is found,
True modesty will there abound.
1ST YEOMAN Didst thou not, oh, Leonard Meryll!
Standard lost in last campaign,
Rescue it at deadly peril—
Bear it safely back again?
YEOMEN Leonard Meryll, at his peril,
Bore it safely back again!
2ND YEOMAN Didst thou not, when prisoner taken,
And debarred from all escape,
Face, with gallant heart unshaken,
Death in most appalling shape?
YEOMEN Leonard Meryll, faced his peril,
Death in most appalling shape!
FAIRFAX [aside] Truly I was to be pitied,
Having but an hour to live,
I reluctantly submitted,
I had no alternative!
FAIRFAX [aloud] Oh! the tales that are narrated
Of my deeds of derring-do
Have been much exaggerated,
Very much exaggerated,
Scarce a word of them is true!
Scarce a word of them is true!
YEOMEN They are not exaggerated,
Not at all exaggerated,
Could not be exaggerated,
Ev'ry word of them is true!
3RD YEOMAN [optional] You, when brought to execution,
Like a demigod of yore,
With heroic resolution
Snatched a sword and killed a score.
YEOMEN [optional] Leonard Meryll, Leonard Meryll
Snatched a sword and killed a score!
4TH YEOMAN [optional] Then escaping from the foemen,
Boltered with the blood you shed,
You, defiant, fearing no men,
Saved your honour and your head!
YEOMEN [optional] Leonard Meryll, Leonard Meryll
Saved his honour and his head.
FAIRFAX [optional] True, my course with judgement
shaping,
Favoured, too, by lucky star,
I succeeded in escaping
Prison-bolt and prison bar!
FAIRFAX [optional] Oh! the tales that are narrated
Of my deeds of derring-do
Have been much exaggerated,
Very much exaggerated,
Scarce a word of them is true!
Scarce a word of them is true!
YEOMEN [optional] They are not exaggerated,
Not at all exaggerated,
Could not be exaggerated,
Ev'ry word of them is true!
[Enter PHOEBE. She rushes to FAIRFAX. Enter WILFRED.
PHOEBE Leonard!
FAIRFAX [puzzled] I beg your pardon?
PHOEBE Don't you know me? I'm little Phoebe!
FAIRFAX [still puzzled] Phoebe? Is this Phoebe?
What! little Phoebe?
[aside] Who the deuce may she be?
It can't be Phoebe, surely?
WILFRED Yes, 'tis Phoebe—
Your sister Phoebe! Your own little sister!
YEOMEN Aye, he speaks the truth; 'Tis Phoebe!
FAIRFAX [pretending to recognise her]
Sister Phoebe!
PHOEBE Oh, my brother!
FAIRFAX Why, how you've grown!
I did not recognize you!
PHOEBE So many years! Oh, brother!
FAIRFAX Oh, my sister!
BOTH Oh, brother!/Oh, sister!
WILFRED Aye, hug him, girl!
There are three thou mayst hug—
Thy father and thy brother and— myself!
FAIRFAX Thyself, forsooth?
And who art thou thyself?
WILFRED Good sir, we are betrothed.
[FAIRFAX turns inquiringly to PHOEBE
PHOEBE Or more or less—
But rather less than more!
WILFRED To thy fond care
I do commend thy sister.
Be to her
An ever-watchful guardian— eagle-eyed!
And when she feels (as sometimes she does feel)
Disposed to indiscriminate caress,
Be thou at hand to take those favours from her!
YEOMEN Be thou at hand to take those favours from her!
PHOEBE Yes, yes.
Be thou at hand to take those favours from me!
WILFRED To thy fraternal care
Thy sister I commend;
From every lurking snare
Thy lovely charge defend;
And to achieve this end,
Oh! grant, I pray, this boon—
Oh! grant this boon
She shall not quit my sight;
From morn to afternoon—
From afternoon to night—
From sev'n o'clock to two—
From two to eventide—
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night,
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night
She shall not quit my side!
YEOMEN From morn to afternoon—
From afternoon to 'lev'n at night
She shall not quit thy side!
PHOEBE So amiable I've grown,
So innocent as well,
That if I'm left alone
The consequences fell
No mortal can foretell.
So grant, I pray, this boon—
Oh! grant this boon
I shall not quit thy sight:
From morn to afternoon—
From afternoon to night—
From sev'n o'clock to two—
From two to eventide—
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night
I shall not quit thy side!
YEOMEN From morn to afternoon—
From afternoon to 'lev'n at night
She shall not quit thy side!
FAIRFAX With brotherly readiness,
For my fair sister's sake,
At once I answer "Yes"—
That task I undertake—
My word I never break.
I freely grant that boon,
And I'll repeat my plight.
From morn to afternoon— [kiss]
From afternoon to night— [kiss]
From sev'n o'clock to two— [kiss]
From two to evening meal— [kiss]
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night,
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night,
That compact I will seal. [kiss]
YEOMEN From morn to afternoon,
From afternoon to 'lev'n at night
He freely grants that boon.
[The bell of St. Peter's begins to toll. The CROWD enters;
the block is brought on to the stage, and the HEADSMAN
takes his place. The YEOMEN of the Guard form up. The
LIEUTENANT enters and takes his place, and tells off
FAIRFAX and two others to bring the prisoner to execution.
WILFRED, FAIRFAX, and TWO YEOMEN exeunt to Tower.
CHORUS The prisoner comes to meet his doom;
The block, the headsman, and the tomb.
The funeral bell begins to toll;
May Heav'n have mercy on his soul!
May Heav'n have mercy on his soul!
ELSIE Oh, Mercy, thou whose smile has shone
So many a captive heart upon;
Of all immured within these walls,
To-day the very worthiest falls!
ALL Oh, Mercy, thou whose smile has shone
So many a captive heart upon;
Of all immured within these walls,
The very worthiest falls.
Oh, Mercy, Oh, Mercy!
[Enter FAIRFAX and TWO YEOMEN from Tower in great
excitement.
FAIRFAX My lord! I know not how to tell
The news I bear!
I and my comrades sought the pris'ner's cell—
He is not there!
ALL He is not there!
They sought the pris'ner's cell—
he is not there!
FAIRFAX AND
TWO YEOMEN As escort for the prisoner
We sought his cell, in duty bound;
The double gratings open were,
No prisoner at all we found!
We hunted high, we hunted low,
We hunted here, we hunted there—
The man we sought with anxious care
Had vanished into empty air!
The man we sought with anxious care
Had vanished into empty air!
[Exit LIEUTENANT
WOMEN Now, by my troth, the news is fair,
The man has vanished into air!
ALL As escort for the prisoner
We/they sought his cell in duty bound;
The double gratings open were,
No prisoner at all we/they found,
We/they hunted high, we/they hunted low,
We/they hunted here, we/they hunted there,
The man we/they sought with anxious care
Had vanished into empty air!
The man we/they sought with anxious care
Had vanished into empty air!
[Enter WILFRED, followed by LIEUTENANT
LIEUT. Astounding news! The pris'ner fled!
[To WILFRED] Thy life shall forfeit be instead!
[WILFRED is arrested
WILFRED My lord, I did not set him free,
I hate the man— my rival he!
MERYLL The pris'ner gone— I'm all agape!
LIEUT. Thy life shall forfeit be instead!
MERYLL Who could have helped him to escape?
WILFRED My lord, I did not set him free!
PHOEBE Indeed I can't imagine who!
I've no idea at all, have you?
[Enter JACK POINT
DAME Of his escape no traces lurk,
Enchantment must have been at work!
ELSIE [aside to POINT]
What have I done? Oh, woe is me!
PHOEBE & DAME Indeed I can't imagine who!
I've no idea at all, have you?
ELSIE I am his wife, and he is free!
POINT Oh, woe is you? Your anguish sink!
Oh, woe is me, I rather think!
Oh, woe is me, I rather think!
Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
Whate'er betide
You are his bride,
And I am left
Alone— bereft!
Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me,
Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
ENSEMBLE All frenzied with despair I/they rave,
The grave is cheated of its due.
Who is, who is the misbegotten knave
Who hath contrived this deed to do?
Let search, let search
Be made throughout the land,
Or his/my vindictive anger dread—
A thousand marks, a thousand marks
he'll/I'll hand
Who brings him here, alive or dead,
Who brings him here, alive or dead!
A thousand marks, a thousand marks,
Alive, alive or dead
Alive, alive or dead
Who brings him here, alive, alive, or dead.
[At the end, ELSIE faints in FAIRFAX's arms; all the YEOMEN
and CROWD rush off the stage in different directions, to
hunt for the fugitive, leaving only the HEADSMAN on the
stage, and ELSIE insensible in FAIRFAX's arms.
END OF ACT I
ACT II
[SCENE.— The same— Moonlight.]
[Two days have elapsed.]
[WOMEN and YEOMEN of the Guard discovered.
No. 13. Night has spread her pall once more
(CHORUS AND SOLO)
People, Yeomen, and Dame Carruthers
CHORUS Night has spread her pall once more,
And the pris'ner still is free:
Open is his dungeon door,
Useless now his dungeon key.
He has shaken off his yoke—
How, no mortal man can tell!
Shame on loutish jailor-folk—
Shame on sleepy sentinel!
[Enter DAME CARRUTHERS and KATE
DAME Warders are ye?
Whom do ye ward?
Warders are ye?
Whom do ye ward?
Bolt, bar, and key,
Shackle and cord,
Fetter and chain,
Dungeon and stone,
All are in vain—
Prisoner's flown!
Spite of ye all, he is free— he is free!
Whom do ye ward? Pretty warders are ye!
WOMEN Pretty warders are ye!
Whom do ye ward?
Spite of ye all, he is free— he is free!
Whom do ye ward?
Pretty warders are ye!
MEN Up and down, and in and out,
Here and there, and round about;
Ev'ry chamber, ev'ry house,
Ev'ry chink that holds a mouse,
Ev'ry crevice in the keep,
Where a beetle black could creep,
Ev'ry outlet, ev'ry drain,
Have we searched, but all in vain, all in vain.
WOMEN Warders are ye?
Whom do ye ward?
MEN Ev'ry house, ev'ry chink, ev'ry drain,
WOMEN Warders are ye?
Whom do ye ward?
MEN Ev'ry chamber, ev'ry outlet,
Have we searched, but all in vain.
WOMEN Night has spread her pall once more,
And the pris'ner still is free:
MEN Warders are we? Whom do we ward?
Whom do we ward?
Warders are we? Whom do we ward?
Whom do we ward?
WOMEN Open is his dungeon door,
Useless his dungeon key!
ALL Spite of us all, he is free, he is free!
MEN Pretty warders are we, he is free!
Spite of us all, he is free, he is free!
WOMEN Open is his dungeon door,
MEN Spite of us all, he is free, he is free!
Pretty warders are we, he is free! He is free!
WOMEN He is free! He is free!
Pretty warders are ye,
ALL He is free! He is free!
Pretty warders are ye/we!
[Exeunt all.
[Enter JACK POINT, in low spirits, reading from a huge
volume
POINT [reads] "The Merrie Jestes of Hugh Ambrose, No.
7863.The Poor Wit and the Rich Councillor. A certayne
poor wit, being an-hungered, did meet a well-fed
councillor.'Marry, fool,' quothe the councillor,
'whither away?' 'In truth,' said the poor wag, 'in
that I have eaten naught these two dayes, I do wither
away, and that right rapidly!' The Councillor laughed
hugely, and gave him a sausage." Humph! the councillor
was easier to please than my new master the
Lieutenant. I would like to take post under that
councillor. Ah! 'tis but melancholy mumming when poor
heart-broken, jilted Jack Point must needs turn to
Hugh Ambrose for original light humour!
[Enter WILFRED, also in low spirits.
WILFRED [sighing] Ah, Master Point!
POINT [changing his manner] Ha! friend jailer! Jailer that
wast— jailer that never shalt be more! Jailer that
jailed not, or that jailed, if jail he did, so
unjailery that 'twas but jerry-jailing, or jailing in
joke— though no joke to him who, by unjailerlike
jailing, did so jeopardise his jailership. Come, take
heart, smile, laugh, wink, twinkle, thou tormentor
that tormentest none— thou racker that rackest not—
thou pincher out of place— come, take heart, and be
merry, as I am!— [aside, dolefully]— as I am!
WILFRED Aye, it's well for thee to laugh. Thou hast a good
post, and hast cause to be merry.
POINT [bitterly] Cause? Have we not all cause? Is not the
world a big butt of humour, into which all who will
may drive a gimlet? See, I am a salaried wit; and is
there aught in nature more ridiculous? A poor, dull,
heart-broken man, who must needs be merry, or he will
be whipped; who must rejoice, lest he starve; who must
jest you, jibe you, quip you, crank you, wrack you,
riddle you, from hour to hour, from day to day, from
year to year, lest he dwindle, perish, starve,
pine,and die! Why, when there's naught else to laugh
at, I laugh at myself till I ache for it!
WILFRED Yet I have often thought that a jester's calling would
suit me to a hair.
POINT Thee? Would suit thee, thou death's head and cross-
bones?
WILFRED Aye, I have a pretty wit— a light, airy, joysome wit,
spiced with anecdotes of prison cells and the torture
chamber. Oh, a very delicate wit! I have tried it on
many a prisoner, and there have been some who smiled.
Now it is not easy to make a prisoner smile. And it
should not be difficult to be a good jester, seeing
that thou are one.
POINT Difficult? Nothing easier. Nothing easier. Attend, and
I will prove it to thee!
No. 14. Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon
(SONG)
Point
POINT Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon,
If you listen to popular rumour;
From morning to night he's so joyous and bright,
And he bubbles with wit and good humour!
He's so quaint and so terse,
Both in prose and in verse;
Yet though people forgive his transgression,
There are one or two rules that all family fools
Must observe, if they love their profession.
There are one or two rules,
Half-a-dozen, maybe,
That all family fools,
Of whatever degree,
Must observe if they love their profession.
If you wish to succeed as a jester, you'll need
To consider each person's auricular:
What is all right for B would quite scandalize C
(For C is so very particular);
And D may be dull, and E's very thick skull
Is as empty of brains as a ladle;
While F is F sharp, and will cry with a carp,
That he's known your best joke from his cradle!
When your humour they flout,
You can't let yourself go;
And it does put you out
When a person says, "Oh!
I have known that old joke from my cradle!"
If your master is surly, from getting up early
(And tempers are short in the morning),
An inopportune joke is enough to provoke
Him to give you, at once, a month's warning.
Then if you refrain, he is at you again,
For he likes to get value for money:
He'll ask then and there, with an insolent stare,
"If you know that you're paid to be funny?"
It adds to the tasks
Of a merryman's place,
When your principal asks,
With a scowl on his face,
If you know that you're paid to be funny?
Comes a Bishop, maybe, or a solemn D.D.—
Oh, beware of his anger provoking!
Better not pull his hair—
Don't stick pins in his chair;
He won't understand practical joking.
If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack,
You may get a bland smile from these sages;
But should it, by chance, be imported from France,
Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages!
It's a general rule,
Tho' your zeal it may quench,
If the Family Fool
Makes a joke that's too French,
Half-a-crown is stopped out of his wages!
Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack,
And your senses with toothache you're losing,
And you're mopy and flat—
they don't fine you for that
If you're properly quaint and amusing!
Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,
And took with her your trifle of money;
Bless your heart, they don't mind—
they're exceedingly kind—
They don't blame you—as long as you're funny!
It's a comfort to feel
If your partner should flit,
Though you suffer a deal,
They don't mind it a bit—
They don't blame you—so long as you're funny!
POINT And so thou wouldst be a jester eh?
WILFRED Aye!
POINT Now, listen! My sweetheart, Elsie Maynard, was
secretly wed to this Fairfax half an hour ere he
escaped.
WILFRED She did well.
POINT She did nothing of the kind, so hold thy peace and
perpend. Now, while he liveth she is dead to me and I
to her, and so, my jibes and jokes notwithstanding, I
am the saddest and the sorriest dog in England!
WILFRED Thou art a very dull dog indeed.
POINT Now, if thou wilt swear that thou didst shoot this
Fairfax while he was trying to swim across the river—
it needs but the discharge of an arquebus on a dark
night— and that he sank and was seen no more, I'll
make thee the very Archbishop of jesters, and that in
two days'time! Now, what sayest thou?
WILFRED I am to lie?
POINT Heartily. But thy lie must be a lie of circumstance,
which I will support with the testimony of eyes,
ears,and tongue.
WILFRED And thou wilt qualify me as a jester?
POINT As a jester among jesters. I will teach thee all my
original songs, my self-constructed riddles, my own
ingenious paradoxes; nay, more, I will reveal to thee
the source whence I get them. Now, what sayest thou?
WILFRED Why, if it be but a lie thou wantest of me, I hold it
cheap enough, and I say yes, it is a bargain!
No. 15. Hereupon we're both agreed
(DUET)
Point and Wilfred
BOTH Hereupon we're both agreed,
All that we two
Do agree to
We'll secure by solemn deed,
To prevent all
Error mental.
POINT You on Elsie are to call
With a story
Grim and gory;
WILFRED How this Fairfax died, and all
I declare to
You're to swear to.
POINT I to swear to!
WILFRED I declare to,
POINT I to swear to!
WILFRED I declare to,
BOTH I to swear to,/I declare to,
You declare to,/You're to swear to,
I to swear to,/I declare to.
BOTH Tell a tale of cock and bull,
Of convincing detail full
Tale tremendous,
Heav'n defend us!
What a tale of cock and bull!
In return for your/my own part
You are/I am making, undertaking
To instruct me/you in the art
(Art amazing, wonder raising)
POINT Of a jester, jesting free.
Proud position—
High ambition!
WILFRED And a lively one I'll be,
Wag-a-wagging,
Never flagging!
POINT Wag-a-wagging,