Produced by David Reed, and David Widger








THE 14 GILBERT AND SULLIVAN PLAYS

By William S. Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan


William S. Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan collaborated on 14 operas in the period from 1871 to 1896.




CONTENTS


THE GONDOLIERS

ACT I

ACT II


THE GRAND DUKE

ACT I.

ACT II.


H.M.S. PINAFORE

ACT I

ACT II


IOLANTHE

ACT I

ACT II


THE MIKADO

ACT I.

ACT II.


THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE

ACT I

ACT II


PRINCESS IDA

ACT I.

ACT II

ACT III


RUDDIGORE

ACT I

ACT II


THE SORCERER

ACT I.

ACT II


THESPIS

ACT I

ACT II


TRIAL BY JURY


UTOPIA LIMITED

ACT I.

ACT II


THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD

ACT I

ACT II


PATIENCE

ACT I

ACT II






THE GONDOLIERS
  OR

  THE KING OF BARATARIA

  Libretto by William S. Gilbert

  Music by Arthur S. Sullivan

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  THE DUKE OF PLAZA-TORO (a Grandee of Spain)
  LUIZ (his attendant)
  DON ALHAMBRA DEL BOLERO (the Grand Inquisitioner)

  Venetian Gondoliers
       MARCO PALMIERI
       GIUSEPPE PALMIERI
       ANTONIO
       FRANCESCO
       GIORGIO
       ANNIBALE

  THE DUCHESS OF PLAZA-TORO
  CASILDA (her Daughter)

  Contadine
       GIANETTA
       TESSA
       FIAMETTA
       VITTORIA
       GIULIA

  INEZ (the King's Foster-mother)

  Chorus of Gondoliers and Contadine, Men-at-Arms, Heralds and
  Pages

                                ACT I
                        The Piazzetta, Venice

                               ACT II
                 Pavilion in the Palace of Barataria

  (An interval of three months is supposed to elapse between Acts I
  and II)

                                DATE
                                1750





ACT I
  Scene.— the Piazzetta, Venice.  The Ducal Palace on the right.

  Fiametta, Giulia, Vittoria, and other Contadine discovered, each
  tying a bouquet of roses.

                        CHORUS OF CONTADINE.

                 List and learn, ye dainty roses,
                      Roses white and roses red,
                 Why we bind you into posies
                      Ere your morning bloom has fled.
                 By a law of maiden's making,
                 Accents of a heart that's aching,
                 Even though that heart be breaking,
                      Should by maiden be unsaid:
                 Though they love with love exceeding,
                 They must seem to be unheeding—
                 Go ye then and do their pleading,
                      Roses white and roses red!

                              FIAMETTA.

                 Two there are for whom in duty,
                      Every maid in Venice sighs—
                 Two so peerless in their beauty
                      That they shame the summer skies.
                 We have hearts for them, in plenty,
                      They have hearts, but all too few,
                 We, alas, are four-and-twenty!
                      They, alas, are only two!
                 We, alas!

  CHORUS.                                 Alas!

  FIA.           Are four-and-twenty,
                 They, alas!

  CHORUS.                                 Alas!

  FIA.           Are only two.

  CHORUS.        They, alas, are only two, alas!
                 Now ye know, ye dainty roses,
                 Roses white and roses red,
                 Why we bind you into posies,
                      Ere your morning bloom has fled,
                      Roses white and roses red!

  (During this chorus Antonio, Francesco, Giorgio, and other
  Gondoliers have entered unobserved by the Girls—at first two,
  then two more, then four, then half a dozen, then the remainder
  of the Chorus.)

                                SOLI.

  FRANC.    Good morrow, pretty maids; for whom prepare ye
            These floral tributes extraordinary?

  FIA.      For Marco and Giuseppe Palmieri,
            The pink and flower of all the Gondolieri.

  GIU.      They're coming here, as we have heard but lately,
            To choose two brides from us who sit sedately.

  ANT.      Do all you maidens love them?

  ALL.                                    Passionately!

  ANT.      These gondoliers are to be envied greatly!

  GIOR.     But what of us, who one and all adore you?
            Have pity on our passion, we implore you!

  FIA.      These gentlemen must make their choice before you;

  VIT.      In the meantime we tacitly ignore you.

  GIU.      When they have chosen two that leaves you plenty—
            Two dozen we, and ye are four-and-twenty.

  FIA. and VIT.  Till then, enjoy your dolce far niente.

  ANT.      With pleasure, nobody contradicente!

                      SONG—ANTONIO and CHORUS.

                 For the merriest fellows are we, tra la,
                 That ply on the emerald sea, tra la;
                      With loving and laughing,
                      And quipping and quaffing,
                 We're happy as happy can be, tra la—
                      With loving and laughing, etc.

                 With sorrow we've nothing to do, tra la,
                 And care is a thing to pooh-pooh, tra la;
                      And Jealousy yellow,
                      Unfortunate fellow,
                 We drown in the shimmering blue, tra la—
                      And Jealousy yellow, etc.

  FIA. (looking off). See, see, at last they come to make their
  choice—
                 Let us acclaim them with united voice.
  (Marco and Giuseppe appear in gondola at back.)

  CHORUS (Girls).     Hail, hail! gallant gondolieri, ben venuti!
       Accept our love, our homage, and our duty.
                      Ben' venuti! ben' venuti!

  (Marco and Giuseppe jump ashore—the Girls salute them.)

           DUET—MARCO and GIUSEPPE, with CHORUS OF GIRLS.

  MAR. and GIU.  Buon' giorno, signorine!

  GIRLS.              Gondolieri carissimi!
                 Siamo contadine!

  MAR. and GIU. (bowing).  Servitori umilissimi!
                      Per chi questi fiori—
                           Questi fiori bellissimi?

  GIRLS.              Per voi, bei signori
                           O eccellentissimi!

  (The Girls present their bouquets to Marco and Giuseppe, who are
  overwhelmed with them, and carry them with difficulty.)

  MAR. and GIU. (their arms full of flowers). O ciel'! O ciel'!

  GIRLS.                             Buon' giorno, cavalieri!

  MAR. and GIU. (deprecatingly).     Siamo gondolieri.

       (To Fia. and Vit.)            Signorina, io t' amo!

  GIRLS. (deprecatingly).            Contadine siamo.

  MAR. and GIU.                      Signorine!

  GIRLS (deprecatingly).             Contadine!

       (Curtseying to Mar. and Giu.) Cavalieri.

  MAR. and GIU. (deprecatingly).     Gondolieri!
                                     Poveri gondolieri!

  CHORUS.                            Buon' giorno, signorine, etc.

                      DUET—MARCO and GIUSEPPE.

                      We're called gondolieri,
                      But that's a vagary,
                      It's quite honorary
                           The trade that we ply.
                      For gallantry noted
                      Since we were short-coated,
                      To beauty devoted,
                           Giuseppe\Are Marco and I;

                      When morning is breaking,
                      Our couches forsaking,
                      To greet their awaking
                           With carols we come.
                      At summer day's nooning,
                      When weary lagooning,
                      Our mandolins tuning,
                           We lazily thrum.

                      When vespers are ringing,
                      To hope ever clinging,
                      With songs of our singing
                           A vigil we keep,
                      When daylight is fading,
                      Enwrapt in night's shading,
                      With soft serenading
                           We sing them to sleep.

                      We're called gondolieri, etc.

                   RECITATIVE—MARCO and GIUSEPPE.

  MAR.           And now to choose our brides!

  GIU.                As all are young and fair,
                 And amiable besides,

  BOTH.               We really do not care
                           A preference to declare.

  MAR.           A bias to disclose
                      Would be indelicate—

  GIU.           And therefore we propose
                      To let impartial Fate
                      Select for us a mate!

  ALL.                     Viva!

  GIRLS.         A bias to disclose
                      Would be indelicate—

  MEN.           But how do they propose
                      To let impartial Fate
                      Select for them a mate?

  GIU.      These handkerchiefs upon our eyes be good enough to
  bind,

  MAR.      And take good care that both of us are absolutely
  blind;

  BOTH.     Then turn us round—and we, with all convenient
  despatch,
            Will undertake to marry any two of you we catch!

  ALL.                     Viva!
            They undertake to marry any two of us\them they catch!

  (The Girls prepare to bind their eyes as directed.)

  FIA. (to Marco).    Are you peeping?
                           Can you see me?

  MAR.                Dark I'm keeping,
                           Dark and dreamy!

                                               (Marco slyly lifts
  bandage.)

  VIT. (to Giuseppe). If you're blinded
                           Truly, say so

  GIU.                 All right-minded
                           Players play so!
      (slyly lifts bandage).

  FIA. (detecting Marco).  Conduct shady!
                           They are cheating!
                      Surely they de-
                           Serve a beating!
         (replaces bandage).

  VIT. (detecting Giuseppe).    This too much is;
                           Maidens mocking—
                      Conduct such is
                           Truly shocking!
         (replaces bandage).

  ALL.                You can spy, sir!
                      Shut your eye, sir!
                 You may use it by and by, sir!
                      You can see, sir!
                      Don't tell me, sir!
                 That will do—now let it be, sir!

  CHORUS OF GIRLS.    My papa he keeps three horses,
                           Black, and white, and dapple grey, sir;
                      Turn three times, then take your courses,
                           Catch whichever girl you may, sir!

  CHORUS OF MEN.      My papa, etc.

  (Marco and Giuseppe turn round, as directed, and try to catch the
  girls.  Business of blind-man's buff.  Eventually Marco catches
  Gianetta, and Giuseppe catches Tessa.  The two girls try to
  escape, but in vain.  The two men pass their hands over the
  girls' faces to discover their identity.)

  GIU.           I've at length achieved a capture!
    (Guessing.)  This is Tessa!  (removes bandage).  Rapture,
  rapture!

  CHORUS.        Rapture, rapture!

  MAR. (guessing).    To me Gianetta fate has granted!
                           (removes bandage).
                      Just the very girl I wanted!

  CHORUS.        Just the very girl he wanted!

  GIU. (politely to Mar.). If you'd rather change—

  TESS.                                   My goodness!
                 This indeed is simple rudeness.

  MAR. (politely to Giu.). I've no preference whatever—

  GIA.           Listen to him!  Well, I never!
                 (Each man kisses each girl.)

  GIA.           Thank you, gallant gondolieri!
                      In a set and formal measure
                 It is scarcely necessary
                      To express our pleasure.
                      Each of us to prove a treasure,
                 Conjugal and monetary,
                      Gladly will devote our leisure,
                 Gay and gallant gondolieri.
                      Tra, la, la, la, la, la, etc.

  TESS.          Gay and gallant gondolieri,
                      Take us both and hold us tightly,
                 You have luck extraordinary;
                      We might both have been unsightly!
                      If we judge your conduct rightly,
                 'Twas a choice involuntary;
                      Still we thank you most politely,
                 Gay and gallant gondolieri!
                      Tra, la, la, la, la, la, etc.

  CHORUS OF      Thank you, gallant gondolieri;
  GIRLS.              In a set and formal measure,
                 It is scarcely necessary
                      To express our pleasure.
                      Each of us to prove a treasure
                      Gladly will devote our leisure,
                 Gay and gallant gondolieri!
                      Tra, la, la, la, la, la, etc.

  ALL.           Fate in this has put his finger—
                      Let us bow to Fate's decree,
                 Then no longer let us linger,
                      To the altar hurry we!

  (They all dance off two and two—Gianetta with Marco, Tessa with
  Giuseppe.)

  (Flourish.  A gondola arrives at the Piazzetta steps, from which
  enter the Duke of Plaza-toro, the Duchess, their daughter
  Casilda, and their attendant Luiz, who carries a drum.  All are
  dressed in pompous but old and faded clothes.)

  (Entrance of Duke, Duchess, Casilda, and Luiz.)

  DUKE.     From the sunny Spanish shore,
            The Duke of Plaza-Tor!—

  DUCH.     And His Grace's Duchess true—

  CAS.      And His Grace's daughter, too—

  LUIZ.     And His Grace's private drum
            To Venetia's shores have come:

  ALL.           If ever, ever, ever
                      They get back to Spain,
                 They will never, never, never
                      Cross the sea again—

  DUKE.     Neither that Grandee from the Spanish shore,
            The noble Duke of Plaza-Tor'—

  DUCH.     Nor His Grace's Duchess, staunch and true—

  CAS.      You may add, His Grace's daughter, too—

  LUIZ.     Nor His Grace's own particular drum
            To Venetia's shores will come:

  ALL.      If ever, ever, ever
                 They get back to Spain,
            They will never, never, never
                 Cross the sea again!

       DUKE.  At last we have arrived at our destination.  This is
  the Ducal Palace, and it is here that the Grand Inquisitor
  resides.  As a Castilian hidalgo of ninety-five quarterings, I
  regret that I am unable to pay my state visit on a horse.  As a
  Castilian hidalgo of that description, I should have preferred to
  ride through the streets of Venice; but owing, I presume, to an
  unusually wet season, the streets are in such a condition that
  equestrian exercise is impracticable.  No matter.  Where is our
  suite?
       LUIZ (coming forward).  Your Grace, I am here.
       DUCH.  Why do you not do yourself the honour to kneel when
  you address His Grace?
       DUKE.  My love, it is so small a matter!  (To Luiz.)  Still,
  you may as well do it.  (Luiz kneels.)
       CAS.  The young man seems to entertain but an imperfect
  appreciation of the respect due from a menial to a Castilian
  hidalgo.
       DUKE.  My child, you are hard upon our suite.
       CAS.  Papa, I've no patience with the presumption of persons
  in his plebeian position.  If he does not appreciate that
  position, let him be whipped until he does.
       DUKE.  Let us hope the omission was not intended as a
  slight.  I should be much hurt if I thought it was.  So would he.
  (To Luiz.)  Where are the halberdiers who were to have had the
  honour of meeting us here, that our visit to the Grand Inquisitor
  might be made in becoming state?
       LUIZ.  Your Grace, the halberdiers are mercenary people who
  stipulated for a trifle on account.
       DUKE.  How tiresome!  Well, let us hope the Grand Inquisitor
  is a blind gentleman.  And the band who were to have had the
  honour of escorting us?  I see no band!
       LUIZ.  Your Grace, the band are sordid persons who required
  to be paid in advance.
       DUCH.  That's so like a band!
       DUKE (annoyed).  Insuperable difficulties meet me at every
  turn!
       DUCH.  But surely they know His Grace?
       LUIZ.  Exactly—they know His Grace.
       DUKE.  Well, let us hope that the Grand Inquisitor is a deaf
  gentleman.  A cornet-a-piston would be something.  You do not
  happen to possess the accomplishment of tootling like a
  cornet-a-piston?
       LUIZ.  Alas, no, Your Grace!  But I can imitate a farmyard.
       DUKE (doubtfully).  I don't see how that would help us.  I
  don't see how we could bring it in.
       CAS.  It would not help us in the least.  We are not a
  parcel of graziers come to market, dolt!
                                                              (Luiz
  rises.)
       DUKE.  My love, our suite's feelings!  (To Luiz.)  Be so
  good as to ring the bell and inform the Grand Inquisitor that his
  Grace the Duke of Plaza-Toro, Count Matadoro, Baron Picadoro—
       DUCH.  And suite—
       DUKE.  And suite—have arrived at Venice, and seek—
       CAS.  Desire—
       DUCH.  Demand!
       DUKE.  And demand an audience.
       LUIZ.  Your Grace has but to command.
       DUKE (much moved).  I felt sure of it—I felt sure of it!
  (Exit Luiz into Ducal Palace.)  And now, my love—(aside to
  Duchess)  Shall we tell her?  I think so—(aloud to Casilda)  And
  now, my love, prepare for a magnificent surprise.  It is my
  agreeable duty to reveal to you a secret which should make you
  the happiest young lady in Venice!
       CAS.  A secret?
       DUCH.  A secret which, for State reasons, it has been
  necessary to preserve for twenty years.
       DUKE.  When you were a prattling babe of six months old you
  were married by proxy to no less a personage than the infant son
  and heir of His Majesty the immeasurably wealthy King of
  Barataria!
       CAS.  Married to the infant son of the King of Barataria?
  Was I consulted?  (Duke shakes his head.)  Then it was a most
  unpardonable liberty!
       DUKE.  Consider his extreme youth and forgive him.  Shortly
  after the ceremony that misguided monarch abandoned the creed of
  his forefathers, and became a Wesleyan Methodist of the most
  bigoted and persecuting type.  The Grand Inquisitor, determined
  that the innovation should not be perpetuated in Barataria,
  caused your smiling and unconscious husband to be stolen and
  conveyed to Venice.  A fortnight since the Methodist Monarch and
  all his Wesleyan Court were killed in an insurrection, and we are
  here to ascertain the whereabouts of your husband, and to hail
  you, our daughter, as Her Majesty, the reigning Queen of
  Barataria!  (Kneels.)

  (During this speech Luiz re-enters.)

       DUCH.  Your Majesty!  (Kneels.) (Drum roll.)
       DUKE.  It is at such moments as these that one feels how
  necessary it is to travel with a full band.
       CAS.  I, the Queen of Barataria!  But I've nothing to wear!
  We are practically penniless!
       DUKE.  That point has not escaped me.  Although I am
  unhappily in straitened circumstances at present, my social
  influence is something enormous; and a Company, to be called the
  Duke of Plaza-Toro, Limited, is in course of formation to work
  me.  An influential directorate has been secured, and I shall
  myself join the Board after allotment.
       CAS.  Am I to understand that the Queen of Barataria may be
  called upon at any time to witness her honoured sire in process
  of liquidation?
       DUCH.  The speculation is not exempt from that drawback.  If
  your father should stop, it will, of course, be necessary to wind
  him up.
       CAS.  But it's so undignified—it's so degrading!  A Grandee
  of Spain turned into a public company!  Such a thing was never
  heard of!
       DUKE.  My child, the Duke of Plaza-Toro does not follow
  fashions—he leads them.  He always leads everybody.  When he was
  in the army he led his regiment.  He occasionally led them into
  action.  He invariably led them out of it.

                      SONG—DUKE OF PLAZA-TORO.

                 In enterprise of martial kind,
                      When there was any fighting,
                 He led his regiment from behind—
                      He found it less exciting.
                 But when away his regiment ran,
                      His place was at the fore, O—
                           That celebrated,
                           Cultivated,
                           Underrated
                                Nobleman,
                      The Duke of Plaza-Toro!

  ALL.           In the first and foremost flight, ha, ha!
                 You always found that knight, ha, ha!
                           That celebrated,
                           Cultivated,
                           Underrated
                                Nobleman,
                      The Duke of Plaza-Toro!

  DUKE.          When, to evade Destruction's hand,
                      To hide they all proceeded,
                 No soldier in that gallant band
                      Hid half as well as he did.
                 He lay concealed throughout the war,
                      And so preserved his gore, O!
                           That unaffected,
                           Undetected,
                           Well-connected
                                Warrior,
                      The Duke of Plaza-Toro!

  ALL.           In every doughty deed, ha, ha!
                 He always took the lead, ha, ha!
                           That unaffected,
                           Undetected,
                           Well-connected
                                Warrior,
                      The Duke of Plaza-Toro!

  DUKE.          When told that they would all be shot
                      Unless they left the service,
                 That hero hesitated not,
                      So marvellous his nerve is.
                 He sent his resignation in,
                      The first of all his corps, O!
                           That very knowing,
                           Overflowing,
                           Easy-going
                                Paladin,
                      The Duke of Plaza-Toro!

  ALL.           To men of grosser clay, ha, ha!
                 He always showed the way, ha, ha!
                           That very knowing,
                           Overflowing,
                           Easy-going
                                Paladin,
                      The Duke of Plaza-Toro!

  (Exeunt Duke and Duchess into Grand Ducal Palace.  As soon as
  they have disappeared, Luiz and Casilda rush to each other's
  arms.)

               RECITATIVE AND DUET—CASILDA AND LUIZ.

            O rapture, when alone together
                 Two loving hearts and those that bear them
            May join in temporary tether,
                 Though Fate apart should rudely tear them.

  CAS.      Necessity, Invention's mother,
                 Compelled me to a course of feigning—
            But, left alone with one another,
                 I will atone for my disdaining!

                                 AIR

  CAS.                     Ah, well-beloved,
                           Mine angry frown
                           Is but a gown
                           That serves to dress
                           My gentleness!

  LUIZ.                    Ah, well-beloved,
                           Thy cold disdain,
                           It gives no pain—
                           'Tis mercy, played
                           In masquerade!

  BOTH.                    Ah, well-beloved, etc.

       CAS.  O Luiz, Luiz—what have you said?  What have I done?
  What have I allowed you to do?
       LUIZ.  Nothing, I trust, that you will ever have reason to
  repent.  (Offering to embrace her.)
       CAS. (withdrawing from him).  Nay, Luiz, it may not be.  I
  have embraced you for the last time.
       LUIZ (amazed).  Casilda!
       CAS.  I have just learnt, to my surprise and indignation,
  that I was wed in babyhood to the infant son of the King of
  Barataria!
       LUIZ.  The son of the King of Barataria?  The child who was
  stolen in infancy by the Inquisition?
       CAS.  The same.  But, of course, you know his story.
       LUIZ.  Know his story?  Why, I have often told you that my
  mother was the nurse to whose charge he was entrusted!
       CAS.  True.  I had forgotten.  Well, he has been discovered,
  and my father has brought me here to claim his hand.
       LUIZ.  But you will not recognize this marriage?  It took
  place when you were too young to understand its import.
       CAS.  Nay, Luiz, respect my principles and cease to torture
  me with vain entreaties.  Henceforth my life is another's.
       LUIZ.  But stay—the present and the future—they are
  another's; but the past—that at least is ours, and none can take
  it from us.  As we may revel in naught else, let us revel in
  that!
       CAS.  I don't think I grasp your meaning.
       LUIZ.  Yet it is logical enough.  You say you cease to love
  me?
       CAS. (demurely).  I say I may not love you.
       LUIZ.  Ah, but you do not say you did not love me?
       CAS.  I loved you with a frenzy that words are powerless to
  express—and that but ten brief minutes since!
       LUIZ.  Exactly.  My own—that is, until ten minutes since,
  my own—my lately loved, my recently adored—tell me that until,
  say a quarter of an hour ago, I was all in all to thee!
  (Embracing her.)
       CAS.  I see your idea.  It's ingenious, but don't do that.
  (Releasing herself.)
       LUIZ.  There can be no harm in revelling in the past.
       CAS.  None whatever, but an embrace cannot be taken to act
  retrospectively.
       LUIZ.  Perhaps not!
       CAS.  We may recollect an embrace—I recollect many—but we
  must not repeat them.
       LUIZ.  Then let us recollect a few!  (A moment's pause, as
  they recollect, then both heave a deep sigh.)
       LUIZ.  Ah, Casilda, you were to me as the sun is to the
  earth!
       CAS.  A quarter of an hour ago?
       LUIZ.  About that.
       CAS.  And to think that, but for this miserable discovery,
  you would have been my own for life!
       LUIZ.  Through life to death—a quarter of an hour ago!
       CAS.  How greedily my thirsty ears would have drunk the
  golden melody of those sweet words a quarter—well, it's now
  about twenty minutes since.  (Looking at her watch.)
       LUIZ.  About that.  In such a matter one cannot be too
  precise.
       CAS.  And now our love, so full of life, is but a silent,
  solemn memory!
       LUIZ.  Must it be so, Casilda?
       CAS.  Luiz, it must be so!

                       DUET—CASILDA and LUIZ.

  LUIZ.          There was a time—
                      A time for ever gone—ah, woe is me!
                 It was no crime
                      To love but thee alone—ah, woe is me!
                 One heart, one life, one soul,
                      One aim, one goal—
                 Each in the other's thrall,
                      Each all in all, ah, woe is me!

  BOTH.     Oh, bury, bury—let the grave close o'er
            The days that were—that never will be more!
            Oh, bury, bury love that all condemn,
            And let the whirlwind mourn its requiem!

  CAS.           Dead as the last year's leaves—
                      As gathered flowers—ah, woe is me!
                 Dead as the garnered sheaves,
                      That love of ours—ah, woe is me!
                 Born but to fade and die
                      When hope was high,
                 Dead and as far away
                      As yesterday!—ah, woe is me!

  BOTH.     Oh, bury, bury—let the grave close o'er, etc.

  (Re-enter from the Ducal Palace the Duke and Duchess, followed by
  Don Alhambra del Bolero, the Grand Inquisitor.)

       DUKE.  My child, allow me to present to you His Distinction
  Don Alhambra del Bolero, the Grand Inquisitor of Spain.  It was
  His Distinction who so thoughtfully abstracted your infant
  husband and brought him to Venice.
       DON AL.  So this is the little lady who is so unexpectedly
  called upon to assume the functions of Royalty!  And a very nice
  little lady, too!
       DUKE.  Jimp, isn't she?
       DON AL.  Distinctly jimp.  Allow me!  (Offers his hand.  She
  turns away scornfully.)  Naughty temper!
       DUKE.  You must make some allowance.  Her Majesty's head is
  a little turned by her access of dignity.
       DON AL.  I could have wished that Her Majesty's access of
  dignity had turned it in this direction.
       DUCH.  Unfortunately, if I am not mistaken, there appears to
  be some little doubt as to His Majesty's whereabouts.
       CAS. (aside).  A doubt as to his whereabouts?  Then we may
  yet be saved!
       DON AL.  A doubt?  Oh dear, no—no doubt at all!  He is
  here, in Venice, plying the modest but picturesque calling of a
  gondolier.  I can give you his address—I see him every day!  In
  the entire annals of our history there is absolutely no
  circumstance so entirely free from all manner of doubt of any
  kind whatever!  Listen, and I'll tell you all about it.

                         SONG—DON ALHAMBRA
              (with DUKE, DUCHESS, CASILDA, and LUIZ).

       I stole the Prince, and I brought him here,
            And left him gaily prattling
       With a highly respectable gondolier,
       Who promised the Royal babe to rear,
       And teach him the trade of a timoneer
            With his own beloved bratling.

                 Both of the babes were strong and stout,
                      And, considering all things, clever.
                 Of that there is no manner of doubt—
                 No probable, possible shadow of doubt—
                      No possible doubt whatever.

  ALL.                No possible doubt whatever.

       But owing, I'm much disposed to fear,
            To his terrible taste for tippling,
       That highly respectable gondolier
       Could never declare with a mind sincere
       Which of the two was his offspring dear,
            And which the Royal stripling!

                 Which was which he could never make out
                      Despite his best endeavour.
                 Of that there is no manner of doubt—
                 No probable, possible shadow of doubt—
                      No possible doubt whatever.

  ALL.                No possible doubt whatever.

       Time sped, and when at the end of a year
            I sought that infant cherished,
       That highly respectable gondolier
       Was lying a corpse on his humble bier—
       I dropped a Grand Inquisitor's tear—
            That gondolier had perished.

                 A taste for drink, combined with gout,
                      Had doubled him up for ever.
                 Of that there is no manner of doubt—
                 No probable, possible shadow of doubt—
                      No possible doubt whatever.

  ALL.                No possible doubt whatever.

       The children followed his old career—
            (This statement can't be parried)
       Of a highly respectable gondolier:
       Well, one of the two (who will soon be here)—
       But which of the two is not quite clear—
            Is the Royal Prince you married!

                 Search in and out and round about,
                      And you'll discover never
                      A tale so free from every doubt—
                 All probable, possible shadow of doubt—
                 All possible doubt whatever!

  ALL.                A tale free from every doubt, etc.

       CAS.  Then do you mean to say that I am married to one of
  two gondoliers, but it is impossible to say which?
       DON AL.  Without any doubt of any kind whatever.  But be
  reassured: the nurse to whom your husband was entrusted is the
  mother of the musical young man who is such a past-master of that
  delicately modulated instrument (indicating the drum).  She can,
  no doubt, establish the King's identity beyond all question.
       LUIZ.  Heavens, how did he know that?
       DON AL.  My young friend, a Grand Inquisitor is always up to
  date.  (To Cas.)  His mother is at present the wife of a highly
  respectable and old-established brigand, who carries on an
  extensive practice in the mountains around Cordova.  Accompanied
  by two of my emissaries, he will set off at once for his mother's
  address.  She will return with them, and if she finds any
  difficulty in making up her mind, the persuasive influence of the
  torture chamber will jog her memory.

                RECITATIVE—CASILDA and DON ALHAMBRA.

  CAS.      But, bless my heart, consider my position!
                 I am the wife of one, that's very clear;
            But who can tell, except by intuition,
                 Which is the Prince, and which the Gondolier?

  DON AL.   Submit to Fate without unseemly wrangle:
                 Such complications frequently occur—
            Life is one closely complicated tangle:
                 Death is the only true unraveller!

    QUINTET—DUKE, DUCHESS, CASILDA, LUIZ, and GRAND INQUISITOR.

  ALL.      Try we life-long, we can never
                 Straighten out life's tangled skein,
            Why should we, in vain endeavour,
                 Guess and guess and guess again?

  LUIZ.               Life's a pudding full of plums,

  DUCH.               Care's a canker that benumbs.

  ALL.           Life's a pudding full of plums,
                 Care's a canker that benumbs.
            Wherefore waste our elocution
            On impossible solution?
            Life's a pleasant institution,
                 Let us take it as it comes!

            Set aside the dull enigma,
                 We shall guess it all too soon;
            Failure brings no kind of stigma—
                 Dance we to another tune!

  LUIZ.               String the lyre and fill the cup,

  DUCH.               Lest on sorrow we should sup.

  ALL.      Hop and skip to Fancy's fiddle,
            Hands across and down the middle—
            Life's perhaps the only riddle
                 That we shrink from giving up!

  (Exeunt all into Ducal Palace except Luiz, who goes off in
  gondola.)

  (Enter Gondoliers and Contadine, followed by Marco, Gianetta,
  Giuseppe, and Tessa.)

                               CHORUS.

                      Bridegroom and bride!
                           Knot that's insoluble,
                           Voices all voluble
                      Hail it with pride.
                      Bridegroom and bride!
                           We in sincerity
                           Wish you prosperity,
                      Bridegroom and bride!

                            SONG—TESSA.

  TESS.          When a merry maiden marries,
                 Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries;
                      Every sound becomes a song,
                      All is right, and nothing's wrong!
                 From to-day and ever after
                 Let our tears be tears of laughter.
                      Every sigh that finds a vent
                      Be a sigh of sweet content!
                 When you marry, merry maiden,
                 Then the air with love is laden;
                      Every flower is a rose,
                           Every goose becomes a swan,
                      Every kind of trouble goes
                           Where the last year's snows have gone!

  CHORUS.             Sunlight takes the place of shade
                           When you marry, merry maid!

  TESS.          When a merry maiden marries,
                 Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries;
                      Every sound becomes a song,
                      All is right, and nothing's wrong.
                 Gnawing Care and aching Sorrow,
                 Get ye gone until to-morrow;
                      Jealousies in grim array,
                      Ye are things of yesterday!
                 When you marry, merry maiden,
                 Then the air with joy is laden;
                      All the corners of the earth
                           Ring with music sweetly played,
                      Worry is melodious mirth,
                           Grief is joy in masquerade;

  CHORUS.             Sullen night is laughing day—
                      All the year is merry May!

  (At the end of the song, Don Alhambra enters at back.  The
  Gondoliers and Contadine shrink from him, and gradually go off,
  much alarmed.)

       GIU. And now our lives are going to begin in real earnest!
  What's a bachelor?  A mere nothing—he's a chrysalis.  He can't
  be said to live—he exists.
       MAR.  What a delightful institution marriage is!  Why have
  we wasted all this time?  Why didn't we marry ten years ago?
       TESS.  Because you couldn't find anybody nice enough.
       GIA.  Because you were waiting for us.
       MAR.  I suppose that was the reason.  We were waiting for
  you without knowing it.  (Don Alhambra comes forward.)  Hallo!
       DON AL.  Good morning.
       GIU.  If this gentleman is an undertaker it's a bad omen.
       DON AL.  Ceremony of some sort going on?
       GIU. (aside).  He is an undertaker!  (Aloud.)  No—a little
  unimportant family gathering.  Nothing in your line.
       DON AL.  Somebody's birthday, I suppose?
       GIA.  Yes, mine!
       TESS.  And mine!
       MAR.  And mine!
       GIU.  And mine!
       DON AL.  Curious coincidence!  And how old may you all be?
       TESS.  It's a rude question—but about ten minutes.
       DON AL.  Remarkably fine children!  But surely you are
  jesting?
       TESS.  In other words, we were married about ten minutes
  since.
       DON AL.  Married!  You don't mean to say you are married?
       MAR.  Oh yes, we are married.
       DON AL.  What, both of you?
       ALL.  All four of us.
       DON AL. (aside).  Bless my heart, how extremely awkward!
       GIA.  You don't mind, I suppose?
       TESS.  You were not thinking of either of us for yourself, I
  presume?  Oh, Giuseppe, look at him—he was.  He's heart-broken!
       DON AL.  No, no, I wasn't!  I wasn't!
       GIU.  Now, my man (slapping him on the back), we don't want
  anything in your line to-day, and if your curiosity's
  satisfied—you can go!
       DON AL.  You mustn't call me your man.  It's a liberty.  I
  don't think you know who I am.
       GIU.  Not we, indeed!  We are jolly gondoliers, the sons of
  Baptisto Palmieri, who led the last revolution.  Republicans,
  heart and soul, we hold all men to be equal.  As we abhor
  oppression, we abhor kings: as we detest vain-glory, we detest
  rank: as we despise effeminacy, we despise wealth.  We are
  Venetian gondoliers—your equals in everything except our
  calling, and in that at once your masters and your servants.
       DON AL.  Bless my heart, how unfortunate!  One of you may be
  Baptisto's son, for anything I know to the contrary; but the
  other is no less a personage than the only son of the late King
  of Barataria.
       ALL.  What!
       DON AL.  And I trust—I trust it was that one who slapped me
  on the shoulder and called me his man!
       GIU.  One of us a king!
       MAR.  Not brothers!
       TESS.  The King of Barataria!           [Together]
       GIA.  Well, who'd have thought it!
       MAR.  But which is it?
       DON AL.  What does it matter?  As you are both Republicans,
  and hold kings in detestation, of course you'll abdicate at once.
  Good morning!  (Going.)
       GIA. and TESS.  Oh, don't do that!  (Marco and Giuseppe stop
  him.)
       GIU.  Well, as to that, of course there are kings and kings.
  When I say that I detest kings, I mean I detest bad kings.
       DON AL.  I see.  It's a delicate distinction.
       GIU.  Quite so.  Now I can conceive a kind of king—an ideal
  king—the creature of my fancy, you know—who would be absolutely
  unobjectionable.  A king, for instance, who would abolish taxes
  and make everything cheap, except gondolas—
       MAR.  And give a great many free entertainments to the
  gondoliers—
       GIU.  And let off fireworks on the Grand Canal, and engage
  all the gondolas for the occasion—
       MAR.  And scramble money on the Rialto among the gondoliers.
       GIU.  Such a king would be a blessing to his people, and if
  I were a king, that is the sort of king I would be.
       MAR.  And so would I!
       DON AL.  Come, I'm glad to find your objections are not
  insuperable.
       MAR. and GIU.  Oh, they're not insuperable.
       GIA. and TESS.  No, they're not insuperable.
       GIU.  Besides, we are open to conviction.
       GIA.  Yes; they are open to conviction.
       TESS.  Oh! they've often been convicted.
       GIU.  Our views may have been hastily formed on insufficient
  grounds.  They may be crude, ill-digested, erroneous.  I've a
  very poor opinion of the politician who is not open to
  conviction.
       TESS. (to Gia.).  Oh, he's a fine fellow!
       GIA.  Yes, that's the sort of politician for my money!
       DON AL.  Then we'll consider it settled.  Now, as the
  country is in a state of insurrection, it is absolutely necessary
  that you should assume the reins of Government at once; and,
  until it is ascertained which of you is to be king, I have
  arranged that you will reign jointly, so that no question can
  arise hereafter as to the validity of any of your acts.
       MAR.  As one individual?
       DON AL.  As one individual.
       GIU. (linking himself with Marco).  Like this?
       DON AL.  Something like that.
       MAR.  And we may take our friends with us, and give them
  places about the Court?
       DON AL.  Undoubtedly.  That's always done!
       MAR.  I'm convinced!
       GIU.  So am I!
       TESS.  Then the sooner we're off the better.
       GIA.  We'll just run home and pack up a few things (going)—
       DON AL.  Stop, stop—that won't do at all—ladies are not
  admitted.
       ALL.  What!
       DON AL.  Not admitted.  Not at present.  Afterwards,
  perhaps.  We'll see.
       GIU.  Why, you don't mean to say you are going to separate
  us from our wives!
       DON AL. (aside).  This is very awkward!  (Aloud.)  Only for
  a time—a few months.  Alter all, what is a few months?
       TESS.  But we've only been married half an hour!  (Weeps.)

                           FINALE, ACT I.

                           SONG—GIANETTA.

            Kind sir, you cannot have the heart
                      Our lives to part
                 From those to whom an hour ago
                           We were united!
            Before our flowing hopes you stem,
                      Ah, look at them,
                 And pause before you deal this blow,
                           All uninvited!
            You men can never understand
                      That heart and hand
                 Cannot be separated when
                           We go a-yearning;
            You see, you've only women's eyes
                      To idolize
                 And only women's hearts, poor men,
                           To set you burning!
            Ah me, you men will never understand
            That woman's heart is one with woman's hand!

            Some kind of charm you seem to find
                      In womankind—
                 Some source of unexplained delight
                           (Unless you're jesting),
            But what attracts you, I confess,
                      I cannot guess,
                 To me a woman's face is quite
                           Uninteresting!
            If from my sister I were torn,
                      It could be borne—
                 I should, no doubt, be horrified,
                           But I could bear it;—
            But Marco's quite another thing—
                      He is my King,
                 He has my heart and none beside
                           Shall ever share it!
            Ah me, you men will never understand
            That woman's heart is one with woman's hand!

                      RECITATIVE—DON ALHAMBRA.

            Do not give way to this uncalled-for grief,
            Your separation will be very brief.
                 To ascertain which is the King
                      And which the other,
                 To Barataria's Court I'll bring
                      His foster-mother;
                 Her former nurseling to declare
                      She'll be delighted.
            That settled, let each happy pair
                 Be reunited.

  MAR., GIU.,    Viva!  His argument is strong!
  GIA., TESS.    Viva!  We'll not be parted long!
                 Viva!  It will be settled soon!
                 Viva!  Then comes our honeymoon!

                                                       (Exit Don
  Alhambra.)

             QUARTET—MARCO, GIUSEPPE., GIANETTA, TESSA.

  GIA.           Then one of us will be a Queen,
                      And sit on a golden throne,
                           With a crown instead
                           Of a hat on her head,
                      And diamonds all her own!
                 With a beautiful robe of gold and green,
                      I've always understood;
                           I wonder whether
                           She'd wear a feather?
                      I rather think she should!

  ALL.           Oh, 'tis a glorious thing, I ween,
                 To be a regular Royal Queen!
                 No half-and-half affair, I mean,
                 But a right-down regular Royal Queen!

  MAR.           She'll drive about in a carriage and pair,
                      With the King on her left-hand side,
                           And a milk-white horse,
                           As a matter of course,
                      Whenever she wants to ride!
                 With beautiful silver shoes to wear
                      Upon her dainty feet;
                           With endless stocks
                           Of beautiful frocks
                      And as much as she wants to eat!

  ALL.           Oh, 'tis a glorious thing, I ween, etc.

  TESS.          Whenever she condescends to walk,
                      Be sure she'll shine at that,
                           With her haughty stare
                           And her nose in the air,
                      Like a well-born aristocrat!
                 At elegant high society talk
                      She'll bear away the bell,
                           With her "How de do?"
                           And her "How are you?"
                      And "I trust I see you well!"

  ALL.           Oh, 'tis a glorious thing, I ween, etc.

  GIU.           And noble lords will scrape and bow,
                      And double themselves in two,
                           And open their eyes
                           In blank surprise
                      At whatever she likes to do.
                 And everybody will roundly vow
                      She's fair as flowers in May,
                           And say, "How clever!"
                           At whatsoever
                      She condescends to say!

  ALL.           Oh, 'tis a glorious thing, I ween,
                 To be a regular Royal Queen!
                 No half-and-half affair, I mean,
                 But a right-down regular Royal Queen!

  (Enter Chorus of Gondoliers and Contadine.)

                               CHORUS.

       Now, pray, what is the cause of this remarkable hilarity?
            This sudden ebullition of unmitigated jollity?
       Has anybody blessed you with a sample of his charity?
            Or have you been adopted by a gentleman of quality?

  MAR. and GIU.  Replying, we sing
                      As one individual,
                 As I find I'm a king,
                      To my kingdom I bid you all.
                 I'm aware you object
                      To pavilions and palaces,
                 But you'll find I respect
                      Your Republican fallacies.

  CHORUS.        As they know we object
                      To pavilions and palaces,
                 How can they respect
                      Our Republican fallacies?

                         MARCO and GIUSEPPE.

  MAR.           For every one who feels inclined,
                 Some post we undertake to find
                 Congenial with his frame of mind—
                      And all shall equal be.

  GIU.           The Chancellor in his peruke—
                 The Earl, the Marquis, and the Dook,
                 The Groom, the Butler, and the Cook—
                      They all shall equal be.

  MAR.           The Aristocrat who banks with Coutts—
                 The Aristocrat who hunts and shoots—
                 The Aristocrat who cleans our boots—
                      They all shall equal be!

  GIU.           The Noble Lord who rules the State—
                 The Noble Lord who cleans the plate—

  MAR.           The Noble Lord who scrubs the grate—
                      They all shall equal be!

  GIU.           The Lord High Bishop orthodox—
                 The Lord High Coachman on the box—

  MAR.           The Lord High Vagabond in the stocks—
                      They all shall equal be!

  BOTH.          For every one, etc.

                           Sing high, sing low,
                           Wherever they go,
                                They all shall equal be!

  CHORUS.                  Sing high, sing low,
                           Wherever they go,
                                They all shall equal be!

                 The Earl, the Marquis, and the Dook,
                 The Groom, the Butler, and the Cook,
                 The Aristocrat who banks with Coutts,
                 The Aristocrat who cleans the boots,
                 The Noble Lord who rules the State,
                 The Noble Lord who scrubs the grate,
                 The Lord High Bishop orthodox,
                 The Lord High Vagabond in the stocks—

                 For every one, etc.

                           Sing high, sing low,
                           Wherever they go,
                                They all shall equal be!

                           Then hail! O King,
                                Whichever you may be,
                           To you we sing,
                                But do not bend the knee.
                           Then hail! O King.

  MARCO and GIUSEPPE (together).

            Come, let's away—our island crown awaits me—
                 Conflicting feelings rend my soul apart!
            The thought of Royal dignity elates me,
                 But leaving thee behind me breaks my heart!

                                           (Addressing Gianetta and
  Tessa.)

  GIANETTA and TESSA (together).

            Farewell, my love; on board you must be getting;
                 But while upon the sea you gaily roam,
            Remember that a heart for thee is fretting—
                 The tender little heart you've left at home!

  GIA.                     Now, Marco dear,
                           My wishes hear:
                                While you're away
                           It's understood
                           You will be good
                                And not too gay.
                           To every trace
                           Of maiden grace
                                You will be blind,
                           And will not glance
                           By any chance
                                On womankind!

                           If you are wise,
                           You'll shut your eyes
                                Till we arrive,
                           And not address
                           A lady less
                                Than forty-five.
                           You'll please to frown
                           On every gown
                                That you may see;
                           And, O my pet,
                           You won't forget
                                You've married me!

                 And O my darling, O my pet,
                 Whatever else you may forget,
                 In yonder isle beyond the sea,
                 Do not forget you've married me!

  TESS.                    You'll lay your head
                           Upon your bed
                                At set of sun.
                           You will not sing
                           Of anything
                                To any one.
                           You'll sit and mope
                           All day, I hope,
                                And shed a tear
                           Upon the life
                           Your little wife
                                Is passing here.

                           And if so be
                           You think of me,
                                Please tell the moon!
                           I'll read it all
                           In rays that fall
                                On the lagoon:
                           You'll be so kind
                           As tell the wind
                                How you may be,
                           And send me words
                           By little birds
                                To comfort me!

                 And O my darling, O my pet,
                 Whatever else you may forget,
                 In yonder isle beyond the sea,
                 Do not forget you've married me!

  QUARTET.       Oh my darling, O my pet, etc.

  CHORUS (during which a "Xebeque" is hauled alongside the quay.)

                 Then away we go to an island fair
                      That lies in a Southern sea:
                 We know not where, and we don't much care,
                      Wherever that isle may be.

  THE MEN (hauling on boat).
                           One, two, three,
                                Haul!
                           One, two, three,
                                Haul!
                           One, two, three,
                                Haul!
                           With a will!

  ALL.      When the breezes are a-blowing
            The ship will be going,
                 When they don't we shall all stand still!
            Then away we go to an island fair,
            We know not where, and we don't much care,
                 Wherever that isle may be.

                            SOLO—MARCO.

                      Away we go
                           To a balmy isle,
                      Where the roses blow
                           All the winter while.

  ALL (hoisting sail).
                      Then away we go to an island fair
                           That lies in a Southern sea:
                      Then away we go to an island fair,
                           Then away, then away, then away!

  (The men embark on the "Xebeque."  Marco and Giuseppe embracing
  Gianetta and Tessa.  The girls wave a farewell to the men as the
  curtain falls.)
                            END OF ACT I





ACT II
       SCENE.—Pavilion in the Court of Barataria.  Marco and
  Giuseppe, magnificently dressed, are seated on two thrones,
  occupied in cleaning the crown and the sceptre.  The Gondoliers
  are discovered, dressed, some as courtiers, officers of rank,
  etc., and others as private soldiers and servants of various
  degrees.  All are enjoying themselves without reference to social
  distinctions—some playing cards, others throwing dice, some
  reading, others playing cup and ball, "morra", etc.

               CHORUS OF MEN with MARCO and GIUSEPPE.

            Of happiness the very pith
                           In Barataria you may see:
            A monarchy that's tempered with
                           Republican Equality.
            This form of government we find
            The beau ideal of its kind—
            A despotism strict combined
                           With absolute equality!

                         MARCO and GIUSEPPE.

            Two kings, of undue pride bereft,
                           Who act in perfect unity,
            Whom you can order right and left
                           With absolute impunity.
            Who put their subjects at their ease
            By doing all they can to please!
            And thus, to earn their bread-and-cheese,
                           Seize every opportunity.

  CHORUS.   Of happiness the very pith, etc.

       MAR.  Gentlemen, we are much obliged to you for your
  expressions of satisfaction and good feeling—I say, we are much
  obliged to you for your expressions of satisfaction and good
  feeling.
       ALL.  We heard you.
       MAR.  We are delighted, at any time, to fall in with
  sentiments so charmingly expressed.
       ALL.  That's all right.
       GIU.  At the same time there is just one little grievance
  that we should like to ventilate.
       ALL (angrily).  What?
       GIU.  Don't be alarmed—it's not serious.  It is arranged
  that, until it is decided which of us two is the actual King, we
  are to act as one person.
       GIORGIO.  Exactly.
       GIU.  Now, although we act as one person, we are, in point
  of fact, two persons.
       ANNIBALE.  Ah, I don't think we can go into that.  It is a
  legal fiction, and legal fictions are solemn things.  Situated as
  we are, we can't recognize two independent responsibilities.
       GIU.  No; but you can recognize two independent appetites.
  It's all very well to say we act as one person, but when you
  supply us with only one ration between us, I should describe it
  as a legal fiction carried a little too far.
       ANNI.  It's rather a nice point.  I don't like to express an
  opinion off-hand.  Suppose we reserve it for argument before the
  full Court?
       MAR.  Yes, but what are we to do in the meantime?
       MAR. and GIU.  We want our tea.
       ANNI.  I think we may make an interim order for double
  rations on their Majesties entering into the usual undertaking to
  indemnify in the event of an adverse decision?
       GIOR.  That, I think, will meet the case.  But you must work
  hard—stick to it—nothing like work.
       GIU.  Oh, certainly.  We quite understand that a man who
  holds the magnificent position of King should do something to
  justify it.  We are called "Your Majesty"; we are allowed to buy
  ourselves magnificent clothes; our subjects frequently nod to us
  in the streets; the sentries always return our salutes; and we
  enjoy the inestimable privilege of heading the subscription lists
  to all the principal charities.  In return for these advantages
  the least we can do is to make ourselves useful about the Palace.
                     SONG—GIUSEPPE with CHORUS.

  Rising early in the morning,
       We proceed to light the fire,
  Then our Majesty adorning
       In its workaday attire,
            We embark without delay
            On the duties of the day.

  First, we polish off some batches
  Of political despatches,
       And foreign politicians circumvent;
  Then, if business isn't heavy,
  We may hold a Royal levee,
       Or ratify some Acts of Parliament.
       Then we probably review the household troops—
       With the usual "Shalloo humps!" and "Shalloo hoops!"
       Or receive with ceremonial and state
  An interesting Eastern potentate.
       After that we generally
       Go and dress our private valet—
       (It's a rather nervous duty—he's a touchy little man)—
       Write some letters literary
       For our private secretary—
       He is shaky in his spelling, so we help him if we can.
       Then, in view of cravings inner,
       We go down and order dinner;
       Then we polish the Regalia and the Coronation Plate—
       Spend an hour in titivating
       All our Gentlemen-in-Waiting;
       Or we run on little errands for the Ministers of State.

       Oh, philosophers may sing
       Of the troubles of a King;
       Yet the duties are delightful, and the privileges great;
       But the privilege and pleasure
       That we treasure beyond measure
       Is to run on little errands for the Ministers of State.

  CHORUS. Oh, philosophers may sing, etc.

  After luncheon (making merry
  On a bun and glass of sherry),
       If we've nothing in particular to do,
  We may make a Proclamation,
  Or receive a deputation—
       Then we possibly create a Peer or two.
  Then we help a fellow-creature on his path
  With the Garter or the Thistle or the Bath,
  Or we dress and toddle off in semi-state
  To a festival, a function, or a fete.
       Then we go and stand as sentry
       At the Palace (private entry),
       Marching hither, marching thither, up and down and to and
  fro,
       While the warrior on duty
       Goes in search of beer and beauty
       (And it generally happens that he hasn't far to go).
       He relieves us, if he's able,
       Just in time to lay the table,
       Then we dine and serve the coffee, and at half-past twelve
  or one,
       With a pleasure that's emphatic,
       We retire to our attic
       With the gratifying feeling that our duty has been done!

       Oh, philosophers may sing
       Of the troubles of a King,
       But of pleasures there are many and of worries there are
  none;
       And the culminating pleasure
       That we treasure beyond measure
       Is the gratifying feeling that our duty has been done!

  CHORUS. Oh, philosophers may sing, etc.

                                       (Exeunt all but Marco and
  Giuseppe.)

       GIU.  Yes, it really is a very pleasant existence.  They're
  all so singularly kind and considerate.  You don't find them
  wanting to do this, or wanting to do that, or saying "It's my
  turn now."  No, they let us have all the fun to ourselves, and
  never seem to grudge it.
       MAR.  It makes one feel quite selfish.  It almost seems like
  taking advantage of their good nature.
       GIU.  How nice they were about the double rations.
       MAR.  Most considerate.  Ah! there's only one thing wanting
  to make us thoroughly comfortable.
       GIU.  And that is?
       MAR.  The dear little wives we left behind us three months
  ago.
       GIU.  Yes, it is dull without female society.  We can do
  without everything else, but we can't do without that.
       MAR.  And if we have that in perfection, we have everything.
  There is only one recipe for perfect happiness.

                            SONG—MARCO.

                 Take a pair of sparkling eyes,
                      Hidden, ever and anon,
                           In a merciful eclipse—
                 Do not heed their mild surprise—
                      Having passed the Rubicon,
                           Take a pair of rosy lips;
                 Take a figure trimly planned—
                      Such as admiration whets—
                           (Be particular in this);
                 Take a tender little hand,
                      Fringed with dainty fingerettes,
                           Press it—in parenthesis;—
                 Ah! Take all these, you lucky man—
                 Take and keep them, if you can!

                 Take a pretty little cot—
                      Quite a miniature affair—
                           Hung about with trellised vine,
                 Furnish it upon the spot
                      With the treasures rich and rare
                           I've endeavoured to define.
                 Live to love and love to live—
                      You will ripen at your ease,
                           Growing on the sunny side—
                 Fate has nothing more to give.
                      You're a dainty man to please
                           If you are not satisfied.
                 Ah! Take my counsel, happy man;
                 Act upon it, if you can!

  (Enter Chorus of Contadine, running in, led by Fiametta and
  Vittoria.  They are met by all the Ex-Gondoliers, who welcome
  them heartily.)

          SCENE—CHORUS OF GIRLS, QUARTET, DUET and CHORUS.

            Here we are, at the risk of our lives,
            From ever so far, and we've brought your wives—
            And to that end we've crossed the main,
            And don't intend to return again!

  FIA.           Though obedience is strong,
                      Curiosity's stronger—
                 We waited for long,
                      Till we couldn't wait longer.

  VIT.           It's imprudent, we know,
                      But without your society
                 Existence was slow,
                      And we wanted variety—

  BOTH.     Existence was slow, and we wanted variety.

  ALL.      So here we are, at the risk of our lives,
            From ever so far, and we've brought your wives—
            And to that end we've crossed the main,
            And don't intend to return again!

  (Enter Gianetta and Tessa.  They rush to the arms of Marco and
  Giuseppe.)

  GIU.      Tessa!
  TESS.          Giuseppe!      {All embrace.}
  GIA.      Marco!
  MAR.           Gianetta!

                         TESSA and GIANETTA.

  TESS.          After sailing to this island—
  GIA.                Tossing in a manner frightful,
  TESS.          We are all once more on dry land—
  GIA.                And we find the change delightful,
  TESS.          As at home we've been remaining—
                      We've not seen you both for ages,
  GIA.           Tell me, are you fond of reigning?—
                      How's the food, and what's the wages?
  TESS.          Does your new employment please ye?—
  GIA.                How does Royalizing strike you?
  TESS.          Is it difficult or easy?—
  GIA.                Do you think your subjects like you?
  TESS.          I am anxious to elicit,
                      Is it plain and easy steering?
  GIA.           Take it altogether, is it
                      Better fun than gondoliering?
  BOTH.          We shall both go on requesting
                      Till you tell us, never doubt it;
                 Everything is interesting,
                      Tell us, tell us all about it!

  CHORUS.        They will both go on requesting, etc.

  TESS.          Is the populace exacting?
  GIA.                Do they keep you at a distance?
  TESS.          All unaided are you acting,
  GIA.                Or do they provide assistance?
  TESS.          When you're busy, have you got to
                      Get up early in the morning?
  GIA.           If you do what you ought not to,
                      Do they give the usual warning?
  TESS.          With a horse do they equip you?
  GIA.                Lots of trumpeting and drumming?
  TESS.          Do the Royal tradesmen tip you?
  GIA.                Ain't the livery becoming!
  TESS.          Does your human being inner
                      Feed on everything that nice is?
  GIA.           Do they give you wine for dinner;
                      Peaches, sugar-plums, and ices?
  BOTH.          We shall both go on requesting
                      Till you tell us, never doubt it;
                 Everything is interesting,
                      Tell us, tell us all about it!

  CHORUS.        They will both go on requesting, etc.

       MAR.  This is indeed a most delightful surprise!
       TESS.  Yes, we thought you'd like it.  You see, it was like
  this.  After you left we felt very dull and mopey, and the days
  crawled by, and you never wrote; so at last I said to Gianetta,
  "I can't stand this any longer; those two poor Monarchs haven't
  got any one to mend their stockings or sew on their buttons or
  patch their clothes—at least, I hope they haven't—let us all
  pack up a change and go and see how they're getting on."  And she
  said, "Done," and they all said, "Done"; and we asked old Giacopo
  to lend us his boat, and he said, "Done"; and we've crossed the
  sea, and, thank goodness, that's done; and here we are,
  and—and—I've done!
       GIA.  And now—which of you is King?
       TESS.  And which of us is Queen?
       GIU.  That we shan't know until Nurse turns up.  But never
  mind that—the question is, how shall we celebrate the
  commencement of our honeymoon?  Gentlemen, will you allow us to
  offer you a magnificent banquet?
       ALL.  We will!
       GIU.  Thanks very much; and, ladies, what do you say to a
  dance?
       TESS.  A banquet and a dance!  O, it's too much happiness!

                          CHORUS and DANCE.

            Dance a cachucha, fandango, bolero,
            Xeres we'll drink—Manzanilla, Montero—
            Wine, when it runs in abundance, enhances
            The reckless delight of that wildest of dances!
                 To the pretty pitter-pitter-patter,
                 And the clitter-clitter-clitter-clatter—
                      Clitter—clitter—clatter,
                      Pitter—pitter—patter,
                 Patter, patter, patter, patter, we'll dance.
            Old Xeres we'll drink—Manzanilla, Montero;
            For wine, when it runs in abundance, enhances
            The reckless delight of that wildest of dances!

  (Cachucha.)

  (The dance is interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Don
  Alhambra, who looks on with astonishment.  Marco and Giuseppe
  appear embarrassed.  The others run off, except Drummer Boy, who
  is driven off by Don Alhambra.)

       DON AL.  Good evening.  Fancy ball?
       GIU.  No, not exactly.  A little friendly dance.  That's
  all.  Sorry you're late.
       DON AL.  But I saw a groom dancing, and a footman!
       MAR.  Yes.  That's the Lord High Footman.
       DON AL.  And, dear me, a common little drummer boy!
       GIU.  Oh no!  That's the Lord High Drummer Boy.
       DON AL.  But surely, surely the servants'-hall is the place
  for these gentry?
       GIU.  Oh dear no!  We have appropriated the servants'-hall.
  It's the Royal Apartment, and accessible only by tickets
  obtainable at the Lord Chamberlain's office.
       MAR.  We really must have some place that we can call our
  own.
       DON AL. (puzzled).  I'm afraid I'm not quite equal to the
  intellectual pressure of the conversation.
       GIU.  You see, the Monarchy has been re-modelled on
  Republican principles.
       DON AL.  What!
       GIU.  All departments rank equally, and everybody is at the
  head of his department.
       DON AL.  I see.
       MAR.  I'm afraid you're annoyed.
       DON AL.  No.  I won't say that.  It's not quite what I
  expected.
       GIU.  I'm awfully sorry.
       MAR.  So am I.
       GIU.  By the by, can I offer you anything after your voyage?
  A plate of macaroni and a rusk?
       DON AL. (preoccupied).  No, no—nothing—nothing.
       GIU.  Obliged to be careful?
       DON AL.  Yes—gout.  You see, in every Court there are
  distinctions that must be observed.
       GIU. (puzzled).  There are, are there?
       DON AL.  Why, of course.  For instance, you wouldn't have a
  Lord High Chancellor play leapfrog with his own cook.
       MAR.  Why not?
       DON AL.  Why not!  Because a Lord High Chancellor is a
  personage of great dignity, who should never, under any
  circumstances, place himself in the position of being told to
  tuck in his tuppenny, except by noblemen of his own rank.  A Lord
  High Archbishop, for instance, might tell a Lord High Chancellor
  to tuck in his tuppenny, but certainly not a cook, gentlemen,
  certainly not a cook.
       GIU.  Not even a Lord High Cook?
       DON AL.  My good friend, that is a rank that is not
  recognized at the Lord Chamberlain's office.  No, no, it won't
  do.  I'll give you an instance in which the experiment was tried.

            SONG—DON ALHAMBRA, with MARCO and GIUSEPPE.

  DON AL.   There lived a King, as I've been told,
            In the wonder-working days of old,
            When hearts were twice as good as gold,
                 And twenty times as mellow.
            Good-temper triumphed in his face,
            And in his heart he found a place
            For all the erring human race
                 And every wretched fellow.
            When he had Rhenish wine to drink
            It made him very sad to think
            That some, at junket or at jink,
                 Must be content with toddy.

  MAR. and GIU.  With toddy, must be content with toddy.

  DON AL.   He wished all men as rich as he
            (And he was rich as rich could be),
            So to the top of every tree
                 Promoted everybody.

  MAR. and GIU.  Now, that's the kind of King for me.
            He wished all men as rich as he,
            So to the top of every tree
                 Promoted everybody!

  DON AL.   Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats,
            And Bishops in their shovel hats
            Were plentiful as tabby cats—
                 In point of fact, too many.
            Ambassadors cropped up like hay,
            Prime Ministers and such as they
            Grew like asparagus in May,
                 And Dukes were three a penny.
            On every side Field-Marshals gleamed,
            Small beer were Lords-Lieutenant deemed,
            With Admirals the ocean teemed
                 All round his wide dominions.

  MAR. and GIU.  With Admirals all round his wide dominions.

  DON AL.   And Party Leaders you might meet
            In twos and threes in every street
            Maintaining, with no little heat,
                 Their various opinions.

  MAR. and GIU.  Now that's a sight you couldn't beat—
            Two Party Leaders in each street
            Maintaining, with no little heat,
                 Their various opinions.

  DON AL.   That King, although no one denies
            His heart was of abnormal size,
            Yet he'd have acted otherwise
                 If he had been acuter.
            The end is easily foretold,
            When every blessed thing you hold
            Is made of silver, or of gold,
                 You long for simple pewter.
            When you have nothing else to wear
            But cloth of gold and satins rare,
            For cloth of gold you cease to care—
                 Up goes the price of shoddy.

  MAR. and GIU.  Of shoddy, up goes the price of shoddy.

  DON AL.   In short, whoever you may be,
            To this conclusion you'll agree,
            When every one is somebodee,
                 Then no one's anybody!

  MAR. and GIU.  Now that's as plain as plain can be,
            To this conclusion we agree—

  ALL.      When every one is somebodee,
                 Then no one's anybody!

  (Gianetta and Tessa enter unobserved.  The two girls, impelled by
  curiosity, remain listening at the back of the stage.)

       DON AL.  And now I have some important news to communicate.
  His Grace the Duke of Plaza-Toro, Her Grace the Duchess, and
  their beautiful daughter Casilda—I say their beautiful daughter
  Casilda—
       GIU.  We heard you.
       DON AL.  Have arrived at Barataria, and may be here at any
  moment.
       MAR.  The Duke and Duchess are nothing to us.
       DON AL.  But the daughter—the beautiful daughter!  Aha!
  Oh, you're a lucky dog, one of you!
       GIU.  I think you're a very incomprehensible old gentleman.
       DON AL.  Not a bit—I'll explain.  Many years ago when you
  (whichever you are) were a baby, you (whichever you are) were
  married to a little girl who has grown up to be the most
  beautiful young lady in Spain.  That beautiful young lady will be
  here to claim you (whichever you are) in half an hour, and I
  congratulate that one (whichever it is) with all my heart.
       MAR.  Married when a baby!
       GIU.  But we were married three months ago!
       DON AL.  One of you—only one.  The other (whichever it is)
  is an unintentional bigamist.
       GIA. and TESS. (coming forward).  Well, upon my word!
       DON AL.  Eh?  Who are these young people?
       TESS.  Who are we?  Why, their wives, of course.  We've just
  arrived.
       DON AL.  Their wives!  Oh dear, this is very unfortunate!
  Oh dear, this complicates matters!  Dear, dear, what will Her
  Majesty say?
       GIA.  And do you mean to say that one of these Monarchs was
  already married?
       TESS.  And that neither of us will be a Queen?
       DON AL.  That is the idea I intended to convey.  (Tessa and
  Gianetta begin to cry.)
       GIU. (to Tessa).  Tessa, my dear, dear child—
       TESS.  Get away! perhaps it's you!
       MAR. (to Gia.).  My poor, poor little woman!
       GIA.  Don't!  Who knows whose husband you are?
       TESS.  And pray, why didn't you tell us all about it before
  they left Venice?
       DON AL.  Because, if I had, no earthly temptation would have
  induced these gentlemen to leave two such extremely fascinating
  and utterly irresistible little ladies!
       TESS.  There's something in that.
       DON AL.  I may mention that you will not be kept long in
  suspense, as the old lady who nursed the Royal child is at
  present in the torture chamber, waiting for me to interview her.
       GIU.  Poor old girl.  Hadn't you better go and put her out
  of her suspense?
       DON AL.  Oh no—there's no hurry—she's all right.  She has
  all the illustrated papers.  However, I'll go and interrogate
  her, and, in the meantime, may I suggest the absolute propriety
  of your regarding yourselves as single young ladies.  Good
  evening!
                                                       (Exit Don
  Alhambra.)
       GIA.  Well, here's a pleasant state of things!
       MAR.  Delightful.  One of us is married to two young ladies,
  and nobody knows which; and the other is married to one young
  lady whom nobody can identify!
       GIA.  And one of us is married to one of you, and the other
  is married to nobody.
       TESS.  But which of you is married to which of us, and
  what's to become of the other?  (About to cry.)
       GIU.  It's quite simple.  Observe.  Two husbands have
  managed to acquire three wives.  Three wives—two husbands.
  (Reckoning up.)  That's two-thirds of a husband to each wife.
       TESS.  O Mount Vesuvius, here we are in arithmetic!  My good
  sir, one can't marry a vulgar fraction!
       GIU.  You've no right to call me a vulgar fraction.
       MAR.  We are getting rather mixed.  The situation is
  entangled.  Let's try and comb it out.

             QUARTET—MARCO, GIUSEPPE, GIANETTA, TESSA.

                 In a contemplative fashion,
                      And a tranquil frame of mind,
                 Free from every kind of passion,
                      Some solution let us find.
                 Let us grasp the situation,
                      Solve the complicated plot—
                 Quiet, calm deliberation
                      Disentangles every knot.

  TESS.I, no doubt, Giuseppe wedded—          THE OTHERS.    In a
  contemplative
            That's, of course, a slice of luck           fashion,
  etc.
       He is rather dunder-headed.
            Still distinctly, he's a duck.

  GIA. I, a victim, too, of Cupid,             THE OTHERS.    Let
  us grasp the
            Marco married - that is clear.               situation,
  etc.
       He's particularly stupid,
            Still distinctly, he's a dear.

  MAR. To Gianetta I was mated;           THE OTHERS.    In a
  contemplative
            I can prove it in a trice:                   fashion,
  etc.
       Though her charms are overrated,
            Still I own she's rather nice.

  GIU. I to Tessa, willy-nilly,           THE OTHERS.    Let us
  grasp the
            All at once a victim fell.                   situation,
  etc.
       She is what is called a silly,
            Still she answers pretty well.

  MAR.           Now when we were pretty babies
                      Some one married us, that's clear—

  GIA.                     And if I can catch her
                           I'll pinch her and scratch her
                      And send her away with a flea in her ear.

  GIU.           He whom that young lady married,
                      To receive her can't refuse.

  TESS.                    If I overtake her
                           I'll warrant I'll make her
                      To shake in her aristocratical shoes!

  GIA. (to Tess.).    If she married your Giuseppe
                      You and he will have to part—

  TESS. (to Gia.).    If I have to do it
                      I'll warrant she'll rue it—
                 I'll teach her to marry the man of my heart!

  TESS. (to Gia.).    If she married Messer Marco
                      You're a spinster, that is plain—

  GIA. (to Tess.).    No matter—no matter.
                      If I can get at her
                 I doubt if her mother will know her again!

  ALL.      Quiet, calm deliberation
                 Disentangles every knot!

                                                       (Exeunt,
  pondering.)

  (March.  Enter procession of Retainers, heralding approach of
  Duke, Duchess, and Casilda.  All three are now dressed with the
  utmost magnificence.)
                CHORUS OF MEN, with DUKE and DUCHESS.

                 With ducal pomp and ducal pride
                      (Announce these comers,
                      O ye kettle-drummers!)
                 Comes Barataria's high-born bride.
                      (Ye sounding cymbals clang!)
                 She comes to claim the Royal hand—
                      (Proclaim their Graces,
                      O ye double basses!)
                 Of the King who rules this goodly land.
                      (Ye brazen brasses bang!)

  DUKE and       This polite attention touches
  DUCH.          Heart of Duke and heart of Duchess
                      Who resign their pet
                      With profound regret.
                 She of beauty was a model
                 When a tiny tiddle-toddle,
                      And at twenty-one
                      She's excelled by none!

  CHORUS.        With ducal pomp and ducal pride, etc.

  DUKE (to his attendants).  Be good enough to inform His Majesty
  that His Grace the Duke of Plaza-Toro, Limited, has arrived, and
  begs—
       CAS.  Desires—
       DUCH.  Demands—
       DUKE.  And demands an audience.  (Exeunt attendants.)  And
  now, my child, prepare to receive the husband to whom you were
  united under such interesting and romantic circumstances.
       CAS.  But which is it?  There are two of them!
       DUKE.  It is true that at present His Majesty is a double
  gentleman; but as soon as the circumstances of his marriage are
  ascertained, he will, ipso facto, boil down to a single
  gentleman—thus presenting a unique example of an individual who
  becomes a single man and a married man by the same operation.
       DUCH. (severely).  I have known instances in which the
  characteristics of both conditions existed concurrently in the
  same individual.
       DUKE.  Ah, he couldn't have been a Plaza-Toro.
       DUCH.  Oh! couldn't he, though!
       CAS.  Well, whatever happens, I shall, of course, be a
  dutiful wife, but I can never love my husband.
       DUKE.  I don't know.  It's extraordinary what
  unprepossessing people one can love if one gives one's mind to
  it.
       DUCH.  I loved your father.
       DUKE.  My love—that remark is a little hard, I think?
  Rather cruel, perhaps?  Somewhat uncalled-for, I venture to
  believe?
       DUCH.  It was very difficult, my dear; but I said to myself,
  "That man is a Duke, and I will love him."  Several of my
  relations bet me I couldn't, but I did—desperately!

                           SONG—DUCHESS.

                 On the day when I was wedded
                      To your admirable sire,
                 I acknowledge that I dreaded
                      An explosion of his ire.
                 I was overcome with panic—
                 For his temper was volcanic,
                      And I didn't dare revolt,
                      For I feared a thunderbolt!
                 I was always very wary,
                      For his fury was ecstatic—
                 His refined vocabulary
                      Most unpleasantly emphatic.
                           To the thunder
                                Of this Tartar
                           I knocked under
                                Like a martyr;
                           When intently
                                He was fuming,
                           I was gently
                                Unassuming—
                           When reviling
                                Me completely,
                           I was smiling
                                Very sweetly:
  Giving him the very best, and getting back the very worst—
  That is how I tried to tame your great progenitor—at first!
                 But I found that a reliance
                      On my threatening appearance,
                 And a resolute defiance
                      Of marital interference,
                 And a gentle intimation
                 Of my firm determination
                      To see what I could do
                      To be wife and husband too
                 Was the only thing required
                      For to make his temper supple,
                 And you couldn't have desired
                      A more reciprocating couple.
                           Ever willing
                                To be wooing,
                           We were billing—
                                We were cooing;
                           When I merely
                                From him parted,
                           We were nearly
                                Broken-hearted—
                           When in sequel
                                Reunited,
                           We were equal-
                                Ly delighted.
  So with double-shotted guns and colours nailed unto the mast,
  I tamed your insignificant progenitor—at last!

       CAS.  My only hope is that when my husband sees what a shady
  family he has married into he will repudiate the contract
  altogether.
       DUKE.  Shady?  A nobleman shady, who is blazing in the
  lustre of unaccustomed pocket-money?  A nobleman shady, who can
  look back upon ninety-five quarterings?  It is not every nobleman
  who is ninety-five quarters in arrear—I mean, who can look back
  upon ninety-five of them!  And this, just as I have been floated
  at a premium!  Oh fie!
       DUCH.  Your Majesty is surely unaware that directly your
  Majesty's father came before the public he was applied for over
  and over again.
       DUKE.  My dear, Her Majesty's father was in the habit of
  being applied for over and over again—and very urgently applied
  for, too—long before he was registered under the Limited
  Liability Act.

                          RECITATIVE—DUKE.

       To help unhappy commoners, and add to their enjoyment,
       Affords a man of noble rank congenial employment;
       Of our attempts we offer you examples illustrative:
       The work is light, and, I may add, it's most remunerative.

                       DUET—DUKE and DUCHESS.

  DUKE.          Small titles and orders
                 For Mayors and Recorders
                      I get—and they're highly delighted—

  DUCH.               They're highly delighted!

  DUKE.          M.P.'s baronetted,
                 Sham Colonels gazetted,
                      And second-rate Aldermen knighted—

  DUCH.               Yes, Aldermen knighted.

  DUKE.          Foundation-stone laying
                 I find very paying:
                      It adds a large sum to my makings—

  DUCH.               Large sums to his makings.

  DUKE.          At charity dinners
                 The best of speech-spinners,
                      I get ten per cent on the takings—

  DUCH.               One-tenth of the takings.

  DUCH.          I present any lady
                 Whose conduct is shady
                      Or smacking of doubtful propriety—

  DUKE.          Doubtful propriety.

  DUCH.          When Virtue would quash her,
                 I take and whitewash her,
                      And launch her in first-rate society—

  DUKE.               First-rate society!

  DUCH.          I recommend acres
                 Of clumsy dressmakers—
                      Their fit and their finishing touches—

  DUKE.               Their finishing touches.

  DUCH.          A sum in addition
                 They pay for permission
                      To say that they make for the Duchess—

  DUKE.               They make for the Duchess!

  DUKE.          Those pressing prevailers,
                 The ready-made tailors,
                      Quote me as their great double-barrel—

  DUCH.               Their great double-barrel—

  DUKE.          I allow them to do so,
                 Though Robinson Crusoe
                      Would jib at their wearing apparel—

  DUCH.               Such wearing apparel!

  DUKE.          I sit, by selection,
                 Upon the direction
                      Of several Companies bubble—

  DUCH.               All Companies bubble!

  DUKE.          As soon as they're floated
                 I'm freely bank-noted—
                      I'm pretty well paid for my trouble—

  DUCH.               He's paid for his trouble!

  DUCH.          At middle-class party
                 I play at ecarte—
                      And I'm by no means a beginner—

  DUKE (significantly).    She's not a beginner.

  DUCH.          To one of my station
                 The remuneration—
                      Five guineas a night and my dinner—

  DUKE.               And wine with her dinner.

  DUCH.          I write letters blatant
                 On medicines patent—
                      And use any other you mustn't—

  DUKE.               Believe me, you mustn't—

  DUCH.          And vow my complexion
                 Derives its perfection
                      From somebody's soap—which it doesn't—

  DUKE. (significantly).   It certainly doesn't!

  DUKE.          We're ready as witness
                 To any one's fitness
                      To fill any place or preferment—

  DUCH.          A place or preferment.

  DUCH.          We're often in waiting
                 At junket or feting,
                      And sometimes attend an interment—

  DUKE.          We enjoy an interment.

  BOTH.          In short, if you'd kindle
                 The spark of a swindle,
                      Lure simpletons into your clutches—
                           Yes; into your clutches.
                 Or hoodwink a debtor,
                 You cannot do better

  DUCH.               Than trot out a Duke or a Duchess—

  DUKE.                    A Duke or a Duchess!

  (Enter Marco and Giuseppe.)

       DUKE.  Ah!  Their Majesties.  Your Majesty!  (Bows with
  great ceremony.)
       MAR.  The Duke of Plaza-Toro, I believe?
       DUKE.  The same.  (Marco and Giuseppe offer to shake hands
  with him.  The Duke bows ceremoniously.  They endeavour to
  imitate him.)  Allow me to present—
       GIU.  The young lady one of us married?

  (Marco and Giuseppe offer to shake hands with her.  Casilda
  curtsies formally.  They endeavour to imitate her.)

       CAS.  Gentlemen, I am the most obedient servant of one of
  you.  (Aside.)  Oh, Luiz!
       DUKE.  I am now about to address myself to the gentleman
  whom my daughter married; the other may allow his attention to
  wander if he likes, for what I am about to say does not concern
  him.  Sir, you will find in this young lady a combination of
  excellences which you would search for in vain in any young lady
  who had not the good fortune to be my daughter.  There is some
  little doubt as to which of you is the gentleman I am addressing,
  and which is the gentleman who is allowing his attention to
  wander; but when that doubt is solved, I shall say (still
  addressing the attentive gentleman), "Take her, and may she make
  you happier than her mother has made me."
       DUCH.  Sir!
       DUKE.  If possible.  And now there is a little matter to
  which I think I am entitled to take exception.  I come here in
  state with Her Grace the Duchess and Her Majesty my daughter, and
  what do I find?  Do I find, for instance, a guard of honour to
  receive me?  No!
       MAR. and GIU.  No.
       DUKE.  The town illuminated?  No!
       MAR. and GIU.  No.
       DUKE.  Refreshment provided?  No!
       MAR. and GIU.  No.
       DUKE.  A Royal salute fired?  No!
       MAR. and GIU.  No.
       DUKE.  Triumphal arches erected?  No!
       MAR. and GIU.  No.
       DUKE.  The bells set ringing?
       MAR. and GIU.  No.
       DUKE.  Yes—one—the Visitors', and I rang it myself.  It is
  not enough!  It is not enough!
       GIU.  Upon my honour, I'm very sorry; but you see, I was
  brought up in a gondola, and my ideas of politeness are confined
  to taking off my cap to my passengers when they tip me.
       DUCH.  That's all very well in its way, but it is not
  enough.
       GIU.  I'll take off anything else in reason.
       DUKE.  But a Royal Salute to my daughter—it costs so
  little.
       CAS.  Papa, I don't want a salute.
       GIU.  My dear sir, as soon as we know which of us is
  entitled to take that liberty she shall have as many salutes as
  she likes.
       MAR.  As for guards of honour and triumphal arches, you
  don't know our people—they wouldn't stand it.
       GIU.  They are very off-hand with us—very off-hand indeed.
       DUKE.  Oh, but you mustn't allow that—you must keep them in
  proper discipline, you must impress your Court with your
  importance.  You want deportment—carriage—
       GIU.  We've got a carriage.
       DUKE.  Manner—dignity.  There must be a good deal of this
  sort of thing—(business)—and a little of this sort of
  thing—(business)—and possibly just a Soupcon of this sort of
  thing!—(business)—and so on.  Oh, it's very useful, and most
  effective.  Just attend to me.  You are a King—I am a subject.
  Very good—
                             (Gavotte.)

              DUKE, DUCHESS, CASILDA, MARCO, GIUSEPPE.

  DUKE.          I am a courtier grave and serious
                      Who is about to kiss your hand:
                 Try to combine a pose imperious
                      With a demeanour nobly bland.

  MAR. and       Let us combine a pose imperious
  GIU.                With a demeanour nobly bland.

  (Marco and Giuseppe endeavour to carry out his instructions.)

  DUKE.          That's, if anything, too unbending—
                      Too aggressively stiff and grand;

  (They suddenly modify their attitudes.)

                 Now to the other extreme you're tending—
                 Don't be so deucedly condescending!

  DUCH. and      Now to the other extreme you're tending—
  CAS.           Don't be so dreadfully condescending!

  MAR. and       Oh, hard to please some noblemen seem!
  GIU.                At first, if anything, too unbending;
                 Off we go to the other extreme—
                      Too confoundedly condescending!

  DUKE.          Now a gavotte perform sedately—
                      Offer your hand with conscious pride;
                 Take an attitude not too stately,
                      Still sufficiently dignified.

  MAR. and       Now for an attitude not too stately,
  GIU.                Still sufficiently dignified.

  (They endeavour to carry out his instructions.)

  DUKE (beating  Oncely, twicely—oncely, twicely—
  time).              Bow impressively ere you glide.
                                                              (They
  do so.)

                                   Capital both, capital
  both—you've caught it nicely!
                      That is the style of thing precisely!

  DUCH. and                Capital both, capital both—they've
  caught it nicely!
  CAS.                That is the style of thing precisely!

  MAR. and       Oh, sweet to earn a nobleman's praise!
  GIU.                Capital both, capital both—we've caught it
  nicely!
                 Supposing he's right in what he says,
                                            This is the style of
  thing precisely!

  (Gavotte.  At the end exeunt Duke and Duchess, leaving Casilda
  with Marco and Giuseppe.)

       GIU. (to Marco).  The old birds have gone away and left the
  young chickens together.  That's called tact.
       MAR.  It's very awkward.  We really ought to tell her how we
  are situated.  It's not fair to the girl.
       GIU.  Then why don't you do it?
       MAR.  I'd rather not—you.
       GIU.  I don't know how to begin.  (To Casilda.)
  Er—Madam—I—we, that is, several of us—
       CAS.  Gentlemen, I am bound to listen to you; but it is
  right to tell you that, not knowing I was married in infancy, I
  am over head and ears in love with somebody else.
       GIU.  Our case exactly!  We are over head and ears in love
  with somebody else!  (Enter Gianetta and Tessa.)  In point of
  fact, with our wives!
       CAS.  Your wives!  Then you are married?
       TESS.  It's not our fault.
       GIA.  We knew nothing about it.
       BOTH.  We are sisters in misfortune.
       CAS.  My good girls, I don't blame you.  Only before we go
  any further we must really arrive at some satisfactory
  arrangement, or we shall get hopelessly complicated.

                         QUINTET AND FINALE.

             MARCO, GIUSEPPE, CASILDA, GIANETTA, TESSA.

  ALL.      Here is a case unprecedented!
                 Here are a King and Queen ill-starred!
            Ever since marriage was first invented
                 Never was known a case so hard!

  MAR. and  I may be said to have been bisected,
  GIU.           By a profound catastrophe!

  CAS., GIA.,    Through a calamity unexpected
  TESS.          I am divisible into three!

  ALL.                O moralists all,
                      How can you call
                 Marriage a state of unitee,
            When excellent husbands are bisected,
                 And wives divisible into three?
                      O moralists all,
                      How can you call
                 Marriage a state of union true?

  CAS., GIA.,             One-third of myself is married to half of
  ye
  TESS.               or you,

  MAR. and  When half of myself has married one-third of ye
  GIU.           or you?

  (Enter Don Alhambra, followed by Duke, Duchess, and all the
  Chorus.)

                               FINALE.

                      RECITATIVE—DON ALHAMBRA.

            Now let the loyal lieges gather round—
            The Prince's foster-mother has been found!
            She will declare, to silver clarion's sound,
            The rightful King—let him forthwith be crowned!

  CHORUS.        She will declare, etc.

  (Don Alhambra brings forward Inez, the Prince's foster-mother.)

  TESS.     Speak, woman, speak—
  DUKE.          We're all attention!
  GIA.      The news we seek-
  DUCH.          This moment mention.
  CAS.      To us they bring—
  DON AL.        His foster-mother.
  MAR.      Is he the King?
  GIU.           Or this my brother?

  ALL.      Speak, woman, speak, etc.

                          RECITATIVE—INEZ.

            The Royal Prince was by the King entrusted
            To my fond care, ere I grew old and crusted;
            When traitors came to steal his son reputed,
            My own small boy I deftly substituted!
            The villains fell into the trap completely—
            I hid the Prince away—still sleeping sweetly:
            I called him "son" with pardonable slyness—
            His name, Luiz!  Behold his Royal Highness!

  (Sensation.  Luiz ascends the throne, crowned and robed as King.)

  CAS. (rushing to his arms).  Luiz!
  LUIZ.  Casilda!  (Embrace.)

  ALL.           Is this indeed the King?
                      Oh, wondrous revelation!
                 Oh, unexpected thing!
                      Unlooked-for situation!

  MAR., GIA.,    This statement we receive
  GIU., TESS.         With sentiments conflicting;
                 Our hearts rejoice and grieve,
                      Each other contradicting;
                 To those whom we adore
                      We can be reunited—
                 On one point rather sore,
                      But, on the whole, delighted!

  LUIZ.     When others claimed thy dainty hand,
                 I waited—waited—waited,

  DUKE.     As prudence (so I understand)
                 Dictated—tated—tated.

  CAS.      By virtue of our early vow
                 Recorded—corded—corded,

  DUCH.     Your pure and patient love is now
                 Rewarded—warded—warded.

  ALL.      Then hail, O King of a Golden Land,
            And the high-born bride who claims his hand!
            The past is dead, and you gain your own,
            A royal crown and a golden throne!

  (All kneel: Luiz crowns Casilda.)

  ALL.           Once more gondolieri,
                 Both skilful and wary,
                 Free from this quandary
                      Contented are we. Ah!
                 From Royalty flying,
                 Our gondolas plying,
                 And merrily crying
                      Our "preme," "stali!"  Ah!

            So good-bye, cachucha, fandango, bolero—
                 We'll dance a farewell to that measure—
            Old Xeres, adieu—Manzanilla—Montero—
                 We leave you with feelings of pleasure!

                               CURTAIN





THE GRAND DUKE
  OR

  THE STATUTORY DUEL
  By W. S. Gilbert
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

  RUDOLPH (Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig).
  ERNEST DUMMKOPF (a Theatrical Manager).
  LUDWIG (his Leading Comedian).
  DR. TANNHUSER (a Notary).
  THE PRINCE OF MONTE CARLO.
  VISCOUNT MENTONE.
  BEN HASHBAZ (a Costumier).
  HERALD.

  ——

  THE PRINCESS OF MONTE CARLO (betrothed to RUDOLPH).
  THE BARONESS VON KRAKENFELDT (betrothed to RUDOLPH).
  JULIA JELLICOE (an English Comdienne).
  LISA (a Soubrette).
  Members of Ernest Dummkopf's Company:

        OLGA
        GRETCHEN
        BERTHA
        ELSA
        MARTHA

  Chamberlains, Nobles, Actors, Actresses, etc.

  ——

  ACT I.—Scene. Public Square of Speisesaal.

  ACT II.—Scene. Hall in the Grand Ducal Palace.

                      Date 1750.

  First produced at the Savoy Theatre on March 7, 1896.





ACT I.
  SCENE.—Market-place of Speisesaal, in the Grand Duchy of Pfennig
  Halbpfennig.  A well, with decorated ironwork, up L.C. GRETCHEN,
  BERTHA, OLGA, MARTHA, and other members of ERNEST DUMMKOPF'S
  theatrical company are discovered, seated at several small
  tables, enjoying a repast in honour of the nuptials of LUDWIG,
  his leading comedian, and LISA, his soubrette.

  CHORUS.

              Won't it be a pretty wedding?
                    Will not Lisa look delightful?
              Smiles and tears in plenty shedding—
                    Which in brides of course is rightful
                    One could say, if one were spiteful,
              Contradiction little dreading,
                    Her bouquet is simply frightful—
              Still, 'twill be a pretty wedding!
              Oh, it is a pretty wedding!
                    Such a pretty, pretty wedding!

  ELSA.       If her dress is badly fitting,
                    Theirs the fault who made her trousseau.

  BERTHA.     If her gloves are always splitting,
                    Cheap kid gloves, we know, will do so.

  OLGA.       If upon her train she stumbled,
                    On one's train one's always treading.

  GRET.       If her hair is rather tumbled,
                    Still, 'twill be a pretty wedding!

  CHORUS.     Such a pretty, pretty wedding!

  CHORUS.

              Here they come, the couple plighted—
                    On life's journey gaily start them.
              Soon to be for aye united,
                    Till divorce or death shall part them.

  (LUDWIG and LISA come forward.)

                  DUET—LUDWIG and LISA.

  LUD.        Pretty Lisa, fair and tasty,
                    Tell me now, and tell me truly,
              Haven't you been rather hasty?
                    Haven't you been rash unduly?
              Am I quite the dashing sposo
                    That your fancy could depict you?
              Perhaps you think I'm only so-so?
                               (She expresses admiration.)
              Well, I will not contradict you!

  CHORUS.     No, he will not contradict you!

  LISA.       Who am I to raise objection?
                    I'm a child, untaught and homely—
              When you tell me you're perfection,
                    Tender, truthful, true, and comely—
              That in quarrel no one's bolder,
                    Though dissensions always grieve you—
              Why, my love, you're so much older
                    That, of course, I must believe you!

  CHORUS.     Yes, of course, she must believe you!

  CHORUS.
              If he ever acts unkindly,
              Shut your eyes and love him blindly—
              Should he call you names uncomely,
              Shut your mouth and love him dumbly—
              Should he rate you, rightly—leftly—
              Shut your ears and love him deafly.
                 Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
                    Thus and thus and thus alone
                    Ludwig's wife may hold her own!

  (LUDWIG and LISA sit at table.)

  Enter NOTARY TANNHAUSER.

        NOT.  Hallo!  Surely I'm not late?  (All chatter
  unintelligibly in reply.)
        NOT.  But, dear me, you're all at breakfast!  Has the
  wedding taken place? (All chatter unintelligibly in reply.)
        NOT.  My good girls, one at a time, I beg.  Let me
  understand the situation.  As solicitor to the conspiracy to
  dethrone the Grand Duke—a conspiracy in which the members of
  this company are deeply involved—I am invited to the marriage of
  two of its members.  I present myself in due course, and I find,
  not only that the ceremony has taken place—which is not of the
  least consequence —but the wedding breakfast is half
  eaten—which is a consideration of the most serious importance.

  (LUDWIG and LISA come down.)

        LUD.  But the ceremony has not taken place.  We can't get a
  parson!
        NOT.  Can't get a parson!  Why, how's that?  They're three
  a
  penny!
        LUD.  Oh, it's the old story—the Grand Duke!
        ALL.  Ugh!
        LUD.  It seems that the little imp has selected this, our
  wedding day, for a convocation of all the clergy in the town to
  settle the details of his approaching marriage with the
  enormously wealthy Baroness von Krakenfeldt, and there won't be a
  parson to be had for love or money until six o'clock this
  evening!
        LISA.  And as we produce our magnificent classical revival
  of Troilus and Cressida to-night at seven, we have no alternative
  but to eat our wedding breakfast before we've earned it.  So sit
  down, and make the best of it.
        GRET.  Oh, I should like to pull his Grand Ducal ears for
  him, that I should!  He's the meanest, the cruellest, the most
  spiteful little ape in Christendom!
        OLGA.  Well, we shall soon be freed from his tyranny.
  To-morrow the Despot is to be dethroned!
        LUD.  Hush, rash girl!  You know not what you say.
        OLGA.  Don't be absurd!  We're all in it—we're all tiled,
  here.
        LUD. That has nothing to do with it.  Know ye not that in
  alluding to our conspiracy without having first given and
  received the secret sign, you are violating a fundamental
  principle of our Association?

                       SONG—LUDWIG.

              By the mystic regulation
              Of our dark Association,
              Ere you open conversation
                    With another kindred soul,
                    You must eat a sausage-roll! (Producing one.)

  ALL.              You must eat a sausage-roll!

  LUD.        If, in turn, he eats another,
              That's a sign that he's a brother—
              Each may fully trust the other.
                    It is quaint and it is droll,
                    But it's bilious on the whole.

  ALL.        Very bilious on the whole.

  LUD.        It's a greasy kind of pasty,
              Which, perhaps, a judgement hasty
              Might consider rather tasty:
                    Once (to speak without disguise)
                    It found favour in our eyes.

  ALL.        It found favour in our eyes.

  LUD.        But when you've been six months feeding
              (As we have) on this exceeding
              Bilious food, it's no ill-breeding
                    If at these repulsive pies
                    Our offended gorges rise!

  ALL.        Our offended gorges rise!

        MARTHA.  Oh, bother the secret sign!  I've eaten it until
  I'm quite uncomfortable!  I've given it six times already
  to-day—and (whimpering) I can't eat any breakfast!
        BERTHA.  And it's so unwholesome.  Why, we should all be as
  yellow as frogs if it wasn't for the make-up!
        LUD.  All this is rank treason to the cause.  I suffer as
  much as any of you.  I loathe the repulsive thing—I can't
  contemplate it without a shudder—but I'm a conscientious
  conspirator, and if you won't give the sign I will. (Eats
  sausage-roll with an effort.)
        LISA.  Poor martyr!  He's always at it, and it's a wonder
  where he puts it!
        NOT. Well now, about Troilus and Cressida.  What do you
  play?
        LUD. (struggling with his feelings).  If you'll be so
  obliging as to wait until I've got rid of this feeling of warm
  oil at the bottom of my throat, I'll tell you all about it.
  (LISA gives him some brandy.)  Thank you, my love; it's gone.
  Well, the piece will be produced upon a scale of unexampled
  magnificence.  It is confidently predicted that my appearance as
  King Agamemnon, in a Louis Quatorze wig, will mark an epoch in
  the theatrical annals of Pfennig Halbpfennig.  I endeavoured to
  persuade Ernest Dummkopf, our manager, to lend us the classical
  dresses for our marriage.  Think of the effect of a real Athenian
  wedding procession cavorting through the streets of Speisesaal!
  Torches burning—cymbals banging—flutes tootling—citharae
  twanging—and a throng of fifty lovely Spartan virgins capering
  before us, all down the High Street, singing "Eloia! Eloia!
  Opoponax, Eloia!" It would have been tremendous!
        NOT.  And he declined?
        LUD.  He did, on the prosaic ground that it might rain, and
  the ancient Greeks didn't carry umbrellas!  If, as is confidently
  expected, Ernest Dummkopf is elected to succeed the dethroned
  one, mark any words, he will make a mess of it.
                                            [Exit LUDWIG with LISA.
        OLGA.  He's sure to be elected.  His entire company has
  promised to plump for him on the understanding that all the
  places about the Court are filled by members of his troupe,
  according to professional precedence.

  ERNEST enters in great excitement.

        BERTHA (looking off).  Here comes Ernest Dummkopf.  Now we
  shall know all about it!
        ALL.  Well—what's the news?  How is the election going?
        ERN.  Oh, it's a certainty—a practical certainty!  Two of
  the candidates have been arrested for debt, and the third is a
  baby in arms—so, if you keep your promises, and vote solid, I'm
  cocksure of election!
        OLGA.  Trust to us.  But you remember the conditions?
        ERN.  Yes—all of you shall be provided for, for life.
  Every man shall be ennobled—every lady shall have unlimited
  credit at the Court Milliner's, and all salaries shall be paid
  weekly in advance!
        GRET.  Oh, it's quite clear he knows how to rule a Grand
  Duchy!
        ERN.  Rule a Grand Duchy?  Why, my good girl, for ten years
  past I've ruled a theatrical company!  A man who can do that can
  rule anything!

                      SONG—ERNEST.

              Were I a king in very truth,
              And had a son—a guileless youth—
                    In probable succession;
              To teach him patience, teach him tact,
              How promptly in a fix to act,
              He should adopt, in point of fact,
                    A manager's profession.
              To that condition he should stoop
                    (Despite a too fond mother),
              With eight or ten "stars" in his troupe,
                    All jealous of each other!
              Oh, the man who can rule a theatrical crew,
              Each member a genius (and some of them two),
              And manage to humour them, little and great,
                    Can govern this tuppenny State!

  ALL.        Oh, the man, etc.

              Both A and B rehearsal slight—
              They say they'll be "all right at night"
                    (They've both to go to school yet);
              C in each act must change her dress,
              D will attempt to "square the press";
              E won't play Romeo unless
                    His grandmother plays Juliet;
              F claims all hoydens as her rights
                    (She's played them thirty seasons);
              And G must show herself in tights
                    For two convincing reasons—
                    Two very well-shaped reasons!
              Oh, the man who can drive a theatrical team,
              With wheelers and leaders in order supreme,
              Can govern and rule, with a wave of his fin,
                    All Europe—with Ireland thrown in!

  ALL.        Oh, the man, etc.
                                         [Exeunt all but ERNEST.

        ERN.  Elected by my fellow-conspirators to be Grand Duke of
  Pfennig Halbpfennig as soon as the contemptible little occupant
  of the historical throne is deposed—here is promotion indeed!
  Why, instead of playing Troilus of Troy for a month, I shall play
  Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig for a lifetime!  Yet, am I
  happy?  No—far from happy!  The lovely English comdienne—the
  beautiful Julia, whose dramatic ability is so overwhelming that
  our audiences forgive even her strong English accent—that rare
  and radiant being treats my respectful advances with disdain
  unutterable!  And yet, who knows?  She is haughty and ambitious,
  and it may be that the splendid change in my fortunes may work a
  corresponding change in her feelings towards me!

  Enter JULIA JELLICOE.

        JULIA.  Herr Dummkopf, a word with you, if you please.
        ERN.  Beautiful English maiden—
        JULIA.  No compliments, I beg. I desire to speak with you
  on a
  purely professional matter, so we will, if you please, dispense
  with
  allusions to my personal appearance, which can only tend to widen
  the
  breach which already exists between us.
        ERN. (aside).  My only hope shattered!  The haughty
  Londoner
  still despises me!  (Aloud.)  It shall be as you will.
        JULIA.  I understand that the conspiracy in which we are
  all
  concerned is to develop to-morrow, and that the company is likely
  to elect you to the throne on the understanding that the posts
  about the Court are to be filled by members of your theatrical
  troupe, according to their professional importance.
        ERN.  That is so.
        JULIA.  Then all I can say is that it places me in an
  extremely awkward position.
        ERN.  (very depressed).  I don't see how it concerns you.
        JULIA.  Why, bless my heart, don't you see that, as your
  leading lady, I am bound under a serious penalty to play the
  leading part in all your productions?
        ERN.  Well?
        JULIA.  Why, of course, the leading part in this production
  will be the Grand Duchess!
        ERN. My wife?
        JULIA.  That is another way of expressing the same idea.
        ERN.  (aside—delighted).  I scarcely dared even to hope
  for
  this!
        JULIA.  Of course, as your leading lady, you'll be mean
  enough to hold me to the terms of my agreement.  Oh, that's so
  like a man!  Well, I suppose there's no help for it—I shall have
  to do it!
        ERN. (aside). She's mine!  (Aloud.)  But—do you really
  think you would care to play that part?  (Taking her hand.)
        JULIA (withdrawing it).  Care to play it?  Certainly
  not—but what am I to do?  Business is business, and I am bound
  by the terms of my agreement.
        ERN.  It's for a long run, mind—a run that may last many,
  many years—no understudy—and once embarked upon there's no
  throwing it up.
        JULIA.  Oh, we're used to these long runs in England: they
  are the curse of the stage—but, you see, I've no option.
        ERN.  You think the part of Grand Duchess will be good
  enough for you?
        JULIA.  Oh, I think so.  It's a very good part in
  Gerolstein, and oughtn't to be a bad one in Pfennig Halbpfennig.
  Why, what did you suppose I was going to play?
        ERN. (keeping up a show of reluctance)  But, considering
  your strong personal dislike to me and your persistent rejection
  of my repeated offers, won't you find it difficult to throw
  yourself into the part with all the impassioned enthusiasm that
  the character seems to demand?  Remember, it's a strongly
  emotional part, involving long and repeated scenes of rapture,
  tenderness, adoration, devotion—all in luxuriant excess, and all
  of the most demonstrative description.
        JULIA.  My good sir, throughout my career I have made it a
  rule never to allow private feeling to interfere with my
  professional duties.  You may be quite sure that (however
  distasteful the part may be) if I undertake it, I shall consider
  myself professionally bound to throw myself into it with all the
  ardour at my command.
        ERN. (aside—with effusion).  I'm the happiest fellow
  alive!
  (Aloud.)  Now—would you have any objection—to—to give me some
  idea—if it's only a mere sketch—as to how you would play it?
  It would be really interesting—to me—to know your conception
  of—of—the part of my wife.
        JULIA.  How would I play it?  Now, let me see—let me see.
  (Considering.)  Ah, I have it!

                          BALLAD—JULIA.

              How would I play this part—
                          The Grand Duke's Bride?
              All rancour in my heart
                          I'd duly hide—
                    I'd drive it from my recollection
                    And 'whelm you with a mock affection,
                    Well calculated to defy detection—
              That's how I'd play this part—
                          The Grand Duke's Bride.

              With many a winsome smile
                          I'd witch and woo;
              With gay and girlish guile
                          I'd frenzy you—
                    I'd madden you with my caressing,
                    Like turtle, her first love confessing—
                    That it was "mock", no mortal would be
  guessing,
              With so much winsome wile
                          I'd witch and woo!

              Did any other maid
                          With you succeed,
              I'd pinch the forward jade—
                          I would indeed!
                    With jealous frenzy agitated
                    (Which would, of course, be simulated),
                    I'd make her wish she'd never been created—
              Did any other maid
                          With you succeed!

              And should there come to me,
                          Some summers hence,
              In all the childish glee
                          Of innocence,
                    Fair babes, aglow with beauty vernal,
                    My heart would bound with joy diurnal!
                    This sweet display of sympathy maternal,
              Well, that would also be
                          A mere pretence!

              My histrionic art
                          Though you deride,
              That's how I'd play that part—
                          The Grand Duke's Bride!

                                ENSEMBLE.
             ERNEST.                                    JULIA.
  Oh joy! when two glowing young            My boy, when two
  glowing
       hearts,                                      young hearts

    From the rise of the curtain,             From the rise of the
                                                    curtain,
  Thus throw themselves into their          Thus throw themselves
  into
  their parts,                                parts,
    Success is most certain!                Success is most
  certain!
  If the role you're prepared to endow      The role I'm prepared
  to
                                               endow
    With such delicate touches,               With most delicate
  touch-
                                               es,
  By the heaven above us, I vow             By the heaven above us,
  I
                                               vow
    You shall be my Grand Duchess!            I will be your Grand
                                               Duchess!
  (Dance.)

  Enter all the Chorus with LUDWIG, NOTARY,
  and LISA—all greatly agitated.

  EXCITED CHORUS.

        My goodness me!  What shall we do?  Why, what a dreadful
              situation!
        (To LUD.)  It's all your fault, you booby you—you lump of
              indiscrimination!
        I'm sure I don't know where to go—it's put me into such a
              tetter—
        But this at all events I know—the sooner we are off, the
              better!

  ERN.  What means this agitato?  What d'ye seek?
        As your Grand Duke elect I bid you speak!

                        SONG—LUDWIG.

        Ten minutes since I met a chap
              Who bowed an easy salutation—
        Thinks I, "This gentleman, mayhap,
              Belongs to our Association."
                    But, on the whole,
                          Uncertain yet,
                    A sausage-roll
                          I took and eat—
        That chap replied (I don't embellish)
        By eating three with obvious relish.

  CHORUS (angrily).       Why, gracious powers,
                          No chum of ours
                    Could eat three sausage-rolls with relish!

  LUD.  Quite reassured, I let him know
              Our plot—each incident explaining;
        That stranger chuckled much, as though
              He thought me highly entertaining.
                    I told him all,
                          Both bad and good;
                    I bade him call—
                          He said he would:
        I added much—the more I muckled,
        The more that chuckling chummy chuckled!

  ALL (angrily).    A bat could see
                    He couldn't be
              A chum of ours if he chuckled!

  LUD.  Well, as I bowed to his applause,
              Down dropped he with hysteric bellow—
        And that seemed right enough, because
              I am a devilish funny fellow.
                    Then suddenly,
                          As still he squealed,
                    It flashed on me
                          That I'd revealed
        Our plot, with all details effective,
        To Grand Duke Rudolph's own detective!

  ALL.        What folly fell,
              To go and tell
        Our plot to any one's detective!

  CHORUS.

  (Attacking LUDWIG.)  You booby dense—
                    You oaf immense,
                    With no pretence
                    To common sense!
                    A stupid muff
                    Who's made of stuff
                    Not worth a puff
                    Of candle-snuff!

  Pack up at once and off we go, unless we're anxious to exhibit
  Our fairy forms all in a row, strung up upon the Castle gibbet!

  [Exeunt Chorus. Manent LUDWIG, LISA,
  ERNEST, JULIA, and NOTARY.
        JULIA.  Well, a nice mess you've got us into!  There's an
  end of our precious plot!  All up—pop—fizzle—bang—done for!
        LUD.  Yes, but—ha! ha!—fancy my choosing the Grand Duke's
  private detective, of all men, to make a confidant of!  When you
  come to think of it, it's really devilish funny!
        ERN. (angrily).  When you come to think of it, it's
  extremely injudicious to admit into a conspiracy every
  pudding-headed baboon who presents himself!
        LUD.  Yes—I should never do that. If I were chairman of
  this gang, I should hesitate to enrol any baboon who couldn't
  produce satisfactory credentials from his last Zoological
  Gardens.
        LISA.  Ludwig is far from being a baboon.  Poor boy, he
  could not help giving us away—it's his trusting nature—he was
  deceived.
        JULIA (furiously).  His trusting nature!  (To LUDWIG.)  Oh,
  I should like to talk to you in my own language for five
  minutes—only five minutes!  I know some good, strong, energetic
  English remarks that would shrivel your trusting nature into
  raisins—only you wouldn't understand them!
        LUD.  Here we perceive one of the disadvantages of a
  neglected education!
        ERN. (to JULIA).  And I suppose you'll never be my Grand
  Duchess now!
        JULIA.  Grand Duchess?  My good friend, if you don't
  produce
  the piece how can I play the part?
        ERN.  True. (To LUDWIG.)  You see what you've done.
        LUD.  But, my dear sir, you don't seem to understand that
  the man ate three sausage-rolls.  Keep that fact steadily before
  you.  Three large sausage-rolls.
        JULIA.  Bah!—Lots of people eat sausage-rolls who are not
  conspirators.
        LUD.  Then they shouldn't.  It's bad form.  It's not the
  game.  When one of the Human Family proposes to eat a
  sausage-roll, it is his duty to ask himself, "Am I a
  conspirator?"  And if, on examination, he finds that he is not a
  conspirator, he is bound in honour to select some other form of
  refreshment.
        LISA.  Of course he is.  One should always play the game.
  (To NOTARY, who has been smiling placidly through this.)  What
  are you grinning at, you greedy old man?
        NOT.  Nothing—don't mind me.  It is always amusing to the
  legal mind to see a parcel of laymen bothering themselves about a
  matter which to a trained lawyer presents no difficulty whatever.
        ALL.  No difficulty!
        NOT.  None whatever!  The way out of it is quite simple.
        ALL.  Simple?
        NOT.  Certainly!  Now attend.  In the first place, you two
  men fight a Statutory Duel.
        ERN.  A Statutory Duel?
        JULIA.  A Stat-tat-tatutory Duel!  Ach! what a crack-jaw
  language this German is!
        LUD.  Never heard of such a thing.
        NOT.  It is true that the practice has fallen into abeyance
  through disuse.  But all the laws of Pfennig Halbpfennig run for
  a hundred years, when they die a natural death, unless, in the
  meantime, they have been revived for another century.  The Act
  that institutes the Statutory Duel was passed a hundred years
  ago, and as it has never been revived, it expires to-morrow.  So
  you're just in time.
        JULIA.  But what is the use of talking to us about
  Statutory
  Duels when we none of us know what a Statutory Duel is?
        NOT.  Don't you?  Then I'll explain.

                          SONG—NOTARY.

              About a century since,
                    The code of the duello
                          To sudden death
                          For want of breath
                    Sent many a strapping fellow.
              The then presiding Prince
                    (Who useless bloodshed hated),
                          He passed an Act,
                          Short and compact,
                    Which may be briefly stated.
              Unlike the complicated laws
              A Parliamentary draftsman draws,
                    It may be briefly stated.

  ALL.        We know that complicated laws,
              Such as a legal draftsman draws,
                    Cannot be briefly stated.

  NOT.        By this ingenious law,
                    If any two shall quarrel,
                          They may not fight
                          With falchions bright
                    (Which seemed to him immoral);
              But each a card shall draw,
                    And he who draws the lowest
                          Shall (so 'twas said)
                          Be thenceforth dead—
                    In fact, a legal "ghoest"
              (When exigence of rhyme compels,
              Orthography forgoes her spells,
                    And "ghost" is written "ghoest").

  ALL (aside)       With what an emphasis he dwells
              Upon "orthography" and "spells"!
                    That kind of fun's the lowest.

  NOT.        When off the loser's popped
                    (By pleasing legal fiction),
                          And friend and foe
                          Have wept their woe
                    In counterfeit affliction,
              The winner must adopt
                    The loser's poor relations—
                          Discharge his debts,
                          Pay all his bets,
                    And take his obligations.

              In short, to briefly sum the case,
              The winner takes the loser's place,
                    With all its obligations.

  ALL.        How neatly lawyers state a case!
              The winner takes the loser's place,
                    With all its obligations!

        LUD.  I see.  The man who draws the lowest card—
        NOT.  Dies, ipso facto, a social death.  He loses all his
  civil rights—his identity disappears—the Revising Barrister
  expunges his name from the list of voters, and the winner takes
  his place, whatever it may be, discharges all his functions, and
  adopts all his responsibilities.
        ERN.  This is all very well, as far as it goes, but it only
  protects one of us.  What's to become of the survivor?
        LUD.  Yes, that's an interesting point, because I might be
  the survivor.
        NOT.  The survivor goes at once to the Grand Duke, and, in
  a
  burst of remorse, denounces the dead man as the moving spirit of
  the plot.  He is accepted as King's evidence, and, as a matter of
  course, receives a free pardon.  To-morrow, when the law expires,
  the dead man will, ipso facto, come to life again—the Revising
  Barrister will restore his name to the list of voters, and he
  will resume all his obligations as though nothing unusual had
  happened.
        JULIA.  When he will be at once arrested, tried, and
  executed on the evidence of the informer!  Candidly, my friend, I
  don't think much of your plot!
        NOT.  Dear, dear, dear, the ignorance of the laity!  My
  good
  young lady, it is a beautiful maxim of our glorious Constitution
  that a man can only die once.  Death expunges crime, and when he
  comes to life again, it will be with a clean slate.
        ERN.  It's really very ingenious.
        LUD. (to NOTARY).  My dear sir, we owe you our lives!
        LISA (aside to LUDWIG).  May I kiss him?
        LUD.  Certainly not: you're a big girl now.  (To ERNEST.)
  Well, miscreant, are you prepared to meet me on the field of
  honour?
        ERN.  At once.  By Jove, what a couple of fire-eaters we
  are!
        LISA.  Ludwig doesn't know what fear is.
        LUD.  Oh, I don't mind this sort of duel!
        ERN.  It's not like a duel with swords.  I hate a duel with
  swords.  It's not the blade I mind—it's the blood.
        LUD.  And I hate a duel with pistols.  It's not the ball I
  mind—it's the bang.
        NOT.  Altogether it is a great improvement on the old
  method
  of giving satisfaction.

                             QUINTET.
                LUDWIG, LISA, NOTARY, ERNEST, JULIA.

        Strange the views some people hold!
              Two young fellows quarrel—
        Then they fight, for both are bold—
        Rage of both is uncontrolled—
        Both are stretched out, stark and cold!
              Prithee, where's the moral?
                    Ding dong!  Ding dong!
        There's an end to further action,
        And this barbarous transaction
        Is described as "satisfaction"!
              Ha! ha! ha! ha! satisfaction!
                    Ding dong! Ding dong!
        Each is laid in churchyard mould—
        Strange the views some people hold!

        Better than the method old,
              Which was coarse and cruel,
        Is the plan that we've extolled.
        Sing thy virtues manifold
        (Better than refined gold),
              Statutory Duel!
                    Sing song! Sing song!

        Sword or pistol neither uses—
        Playing card he lightly chooses,
        And the loser simply loses!
              Ha! ha! ha! ha! simply loses.
                    Sing song! Sing song!
        Some prefer the churchyard mould!
        Strange the views some people hold!

  NOT. (offering a card to ERNEST).
              Now take a card and gaily sing
        How little you care for Fortune's rubs—

  ERN. (drawing a card).
        Hurrah, hurrah!—I've drawn a King:

  ALL.              He's drawn a King!
                    He's drawn a King!
        Sing Hearts and Diamonds, Spades and Clubs!

  ALL (dancing).    He's drawn a King!
                    How strange a thing!
        An excellent card—his chance it aids—
        Sing Hearts and Diamonds, Spades and Clubs—
        Sing Diamonds, Hearts and Clubs and Spades!

  NOT. (to LUDWIG).
              Now take a card with heart of grace—
        (Whatever our fate, let's play our parts).

  LUD.  (drawing card).
        Hurrah, hurrah!—I've drawn an Ace!

  ALL.              He's drawn an Ace!
                    He's drawn an Ace!
        Sing Clubs and Diamonds, Spades and Hearts!

  ALL (dancing).
                    He's drawn an Ace!
                    Observe his face—
        Such very good fortune falls to few—
        Sing Clubs and Diamonds, Spades and Hearts—
        Sing Clubs, Spades, Hearts and Diamonds too!

  NOT.  That both these maids may keep their troth,
              And never misfortune them befall,
        I'll hold 'em as trustee for both—

  ALL.              He'll hold 'em both!
                    He'll hold 'em both!
        Sing Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, Spades and all!

  ALL (dancing).    By joint decree
                    As {our/your} trustee
        This Notary {we/you} will now instal—
        In custody let him keep {their/our} hearts,
        Sing Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, Spades and all!

  [Dance and exeunt LUDWIG, ERNEST, and
  NOTARY with the two Girls.

  March. Enter the seven Chamberlains of the
  GRAND DUKE RUDOLPH.

                    CHORUS OF CHAMBERLAINS.

        The good Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig,
        Though, in his own opinion, very very big,
        In point of fact he's nothing but a miserable prig
        Is the good Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig!

        Though quite contemptible, as every one agrees,
        We must dissemble if we want our bread and cheese,
        So hail him in a chorus, with enthusiasm big,
        The good Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig!

  Enter the GRAND DUKE RUDOLPH.  He is meanly and miserably dressed
        in old and patched clothes, but blazes with a profusion of
        orders and decorations.  He is very weak and ill, from low
        living.

                          SONG—RUDOLPH.

        A pattern to professors of monarchical autonomy,
        I don't indulge in levity or compromising bonhomie,
        But dignified formality, consistent with economy,
              Above all other virtues I particularly prize.
        I never join in merriment—I don't see joke or jape any—
        I never tolerate familiarity in shape any—
        This, joined with an extravagant respect for
              tuppence-ha'penny,
              A keynote to my character sufficiently supplies.

  (Speaking.)  Observe.  (To Chamberlains.)  My snuff-box!

  (The snuff-box is passed with much ceremony from the Junior
        Chamberlain, through all the others, until it is presented
        by the  Senior Chamberlain to RUDOLPH, who uses it.)

        That incident a keynote to my character supplies.

  RUD.  I weigh out tea and sugar with precision mathematical—
        Instead of beer, a penny each—my orders are emphatical—
        (Extravagance unpardonable, any more than that I call),
          But, on the other hand, my Ducal dignity to keep—
        All Courtly ceremonial—to put it comprehensively—
        I rigidly insist upon (but not, I hope, offensively)
        Whenever ceremonial can be practised inexpensively—
          And, when you come to think of it, it's really very
  cheap!

  (Speaking.)  Observe.  (To Chamberlains.)  My handkerchief!

  (Handkerchief is handed by Junior Chamberlain to the next in
        order, and so on until it reaches RUDOLPH, who is much
        inconvenienced by the delay.)

        It's sometimes inconvenient, but it's always very cheap!

        RUD.  My Lord Chamberlain, as you are aware, my marriage
  with the wealthy Baroness von Krakenfeldt will take place
  to-morrow, and you will be good enough to see that the rejoicings
  are on a scale of unusual liberality.  Pass that on. (Chamberlain
  whispers to Vice-Chamberlain, who whispers to the next, and so
  on.)  The sports will begin with a Wedding Breakfast Bee.  The
  leading pastry-cooks of the town will be invited to compete, and
  the winner will not only enjoy the satisfaction of seeing his
  breakfast devoured by the Grand Ducal pair, but he will also be
  entitled to have the Arms of Pfennig Halbpfennig tattoo'd between
  his shoulder-blades.  The Vice-Chamberlain will see to this.  All
  the public fountains of Speisesaal will run with Gingerbierheim
  and Currantweinmilch at the public expense.  The Assistant
  Vice-Chamberlain will see to this.  At night, everybody will
  illuminate; and as I have no desire to tax the public funds
  unduly, this will be done at the inhabitants' private expense.
  The Deputy Assistant Vice-Chamberlain will see to this.  All my
  Grand Ducal subjects will wear new clothes, and the Sub-Deputy
  Assistant Vice-Chamberlain will collect the usual commission on
  all sales.  Wedding presents (which, on this occasion, should be
  on a scale of extraordinary magnificence) will be received at the
  Palace at any hour of the twenty-four, and the Temporary
  Sub-Deputy Assistant Vice-Chamberlain will sit up all night for
  this purpose.  The entire population will be commanded to enjoy
  themselves, and with this view the Acting Temporary Sub-Deputy
  Assistant Vice-Chamberlain will sing comic songs in the
  Market-place from noon to nightfall.  Finally, we have composed a
  Wedding Anthem, with which the entire population are required to
  provide themselves.  It can be obtained from our Grand Ducal
  publishers at the usual discount price, and all the Chamberlains
  will be expected to push the sale.  (Chamberlains bow and
  exeunt).  I don't feel at all comfortable.  I hope I'm not doing
  a foolish thing in getting married.  After all, it's a poor heart
  that never rejoices, and this wedding of mine is the first little
  treat I've allowed myself since my christening.  Besides,
  Caroline's income is very considerable, and as her ideas of
  economy are quite on a par with mine, it ought to turn out well.
  Bless her tough old heart, she's a mean little darling!  Oh, here
  she is, punctual to her appointment!

  Enter BARONESS VON KRAKENFELDT.

        BAR.  Rudolph!  Why, what's the matter?
        RUD.  Why, I'm not quite myself, my pet.  I'm a little
  worried and upset.  I want a tonic.  It's the low diet, I think.
  I am afraid, after all, I shall have to take the bull by the
  horns and have an egg with my breakfast.
        BAR.  I shouldn't do anything rash, dear.  Begin with a
  jujube. (Gives him one.)
        RUD. (about to eat it, but changes his mind).  I'll keep it
  for supper. (He sits by her and tries to put his arm round her
  waist.)
        BAR.  Rudolph, don't!  What in the world are you thinking
  of?
        RUD.  I was thinking of embracing you, my sugarplum.  Just
  as a little cheap treat.
        BAR.  What, here?  In public?  Really, you appear to have
  no
  sense of delicacy.
        RUD.  No sense of delicacy, Bon-bon!
        BAR.  No.  I can't make you out.  When you courted me, all
  your courting was done publicly in the Marketplace.  When you
  proposed to me, you proposed in the Market-place.  And now that
  we're engaged you seem to desire that our first tte-
  occur in the Marketplace!  Surely you've a room in your
  Palace—with blinds—that would do?
        RUD.  But, my own, I can't help myself.  I'm bound by my
  own
  decree.
        BAR.  Your own decree?
        RUD.  Yes.  You see, all the houses that give on the
  Market-place belong to me, but the drains (which date back to the
  reign of Charlemagne) want attending to, and the houses wouldn't
  let—so, with a view to increasing the value of the property, I
  decreed that all love-episodes between affectionate couples
  should take place, in public, on this spot, every Monday,
  Wednesday, and Friday, when the band doesn't play.
        BAR.  Bless me, what a happy idea!  So moral too!  And have
  you found it answer?
        RUD.  Answer?  The rents have gone up fifty per cent, and
  the sale of opera-glasses (which is a Grand Ducal monopoly) has
  received an extraordinary stimulus!  So, under the circumstances,
  would you allow me to put my arm round your waist?  As a source
  of income.  Just once!
        BAR.  But it's so very embarrassing.  Think of the
  opera-glasses!
        RUD.  My good girl, that's just what I am thinking of.
  Hang
  it all, we must give them something for their money!  What's
  that?
        BAR.  (unfolding paper, which contains a large letter,
  which
  she hands to him).  It's a letter which your detective asked me
  to hand to you.  I wrapped it up in yesterday's paper to keep it
  clean.
        RUD.  Oh, it's only his report!  That'll keep.  But, I say,
  you've never been and bought a newspaper?
        BAR.  My dear Rudolph, do you think I'm mad?  It came
  wrapped round my breakfast.
        RUD.  (relieved). I thought you were not the sort of girl
  to
  go and buy a newspaper!  Well, as we've got it, we may as well
  read it.  What does it say?
        BAR.  Why—dear me—here's your biography!  "Our Detested
  Despot!"
        RUD.  Yes—I fancy that refers to me.
        BAR.  And it says—Oh, it can't be!
        RUD.  What can't be?
        BAR.  Why, it says that although you're going to marry me
  to-morrow, you were betrothed in infancy to the Princess of Monte
  Carlo!
        RUD.  Oh yes—that's quite right.  Didn't I mention it?
        BAR.  Mention it!  You never said a word about it!
        RUD.  Well, it doesn't matter, because, you see, it's
  practically off.
        BAR.  Practically off?
        RUD.  Yes.  By the terms of the contract the betrothal is
  void unless the Princess marries before she is of age.  Now, her
  father, the Prince, is stony-broke, and hasn't left his house for
  years for fear of arrest.  Over and over again he has implored me
  to come to him to be married-but in vain.  Over and over again he
  has implored me to advance him the money to enable the Princess
  to come to me—but in vain.  I am very young, but not as young as
  that; and as the Princess comes of age at two tomorrow, why at
  two to-morrow I'm a free man, so I appointed that hour for our
  wedding, as I shall like to have as much marriage as I can get
  for my money.
        BAR.  I see.  Of course, if the married state is a happy
  state, it's a pity to waste any of it.
        RUD.  Why, every hour we delayed I should lose a lot of you
  and you'd lose a lot of me!
        BAR.  My thoughtful darling!  Oh, Rudolph, we ought to be
  very happy!
        RUD.  If I'm not, it'll be my first bad investment.  Still,
  there is such a thing as a slump even in Matrimonials.
        BAR.  I often picture us in the long, cold, dark December
  evenings, sitting close to each other and singing impassioned
  duets to keep us warm, and thinking of all the lovely things we
  could afford to buy if we chose, and, at the same time, planning
  out our lives in a spirit of the most rigid and exacting economy!
        RUD.  It's a most beautiful and touching picture of
  connubial bliss in its highest and most rarefied development!

                      DUET—BARONESS and RUDOLPH.

  BAR.  As o'er our penny roll we sing,
              It is not reprehensive
        To think what joys our wealth would bring
        Were we disposed to do the thing
              Upon a scale extensive.
        There's rich mock-turtle—thick and clear—

  RUD. (confidentially).  Perhaps we'll have it once a year!

  BAR. (delighted).       You are an open-handed dear!

  RUD.                    Though, mind you, it's expensive.

  BAR.                    No doubt it is expensive.

  BOTH.       How fleeting are the glutton's joys!
              With fish and fowl he lightly toys,

  RUD.        And pays for such expensive tricks
              Sometimes as much as two-and-six!

  BAR.              As two-and-six?

  RUD.              As two-and-six—

  BOTH.       Sometimes as much as two-and-six!

  BAR.        It gives him no advantage, mind—
              For you and he have only dined,
              And you remain when once it's down
              A better man by half-a-crown.

  RUD.              By half-a-crown?

  BAR.              By half-a-crown.

  BOTH.       Yes, two-and-six is half-a-crown.
                    Then let us be modestly merry,
                    And rejoice with a derry down derry.
                          For to laugh and to sing
                          No extravagance bring—
                    It's a joy economical, very!

  BAR.        Although as you're of course aware
              (I never tried to hide it)
              I moisten my insipid fare
              With water—which I can't abear—

  RUD.        Nor I—I can't abide it.

  BAR.        This pleasing fact our souls will cheer,
              With fifty thousand pounds a year
              We could indulge in table beer!

  RUD.                    Get out!

  BAR.        We could—I've tried it!

  RUD.        Yes, yes, of course you've tried it!

  BOTH.       Oh, he who has an income clear
              Of fifty thousand pounds a year—

  BAR.        Can purchase all his fancy loves
              Conspicuous hats—

  RUD.                    Two shilling gloves—

  BAR. (doubtfully).  Two-shilling gloves?

  RUD. (positively).  Two-shilling gloves—

  BOTH.       Yes, think of that, two-shilling gloves!

  BAR.        Cheap shoes and ties of gaudy hue,
              And Waterbury watches, too—
              And think that he could buy the lot
              Were he a donkey—

  RUD.                    Which he's not!

  BAR.              Oh no, he's not!

  RUD.              Oh no, he's not!

  BOTH (dancing).
              That kind of donkey he is not!
                    Then let us be modestly merry,
                    And rejoice with a derry down derry.
                          For to laugh and to sing
                          Is a rational thing-
              It's a joy economical, very!
                                                        [Exit
  BARONESS.

        RUD.  Oh, now for my detective's report.  (Opens letter.)
  What's this!  Another conspiracy!  A conspiracy to depose me!
  And my private detective was so convulsed with laughter at the
  notion of a conspirator selecting him for a confidant that he was
  physically unable to arrest the malefactor!   Why, it'll come
  off!  This comes of engaging a detective with a keen sense of the
  ridiculous!  For the future I'll employ none but Scotchmen.  And
  the plot is to explode to-morrow!   My wedding day!   Oh,
  Caroline, Caroline!  (Weeps.)  This is perfectly frightful!
  What's to be done?  I don't know!  I ought to keep cool and
  think, but you can't think when your veins are full of hot
  soda-water, and your brain's fizzing like a firework, and all
  your faculties are jumbled in a perfect whirlpool of
  tumblication!  And I'm going to be ill!  I know I am!  I've been
  living too low, and I'm going to be very ill indeed!

                      SONG—RUDOLPH.

        When you find you're a broken-down critter,
        Who is all of a trimmle and twitter,
        With your palate unpleasantly bitter,
              As if you'd just eaten a pill—
        When your legs are as thin as dividers,
        And you're plagued with unruly insiders,
        And your spine is all creepy with spiders,
              And you're highly gamboge in the gill—
        When you've got a beehive in your head,
              And a sewing machine in each ear,
        And you feel that you've eaten your bed,
              And you've got a bad headache down here—
                    When such facts are about,
                          And these symptoms you find
                                In your body or crown—
                    Well, you'd better look out,
                          You may make up your mind
                                You had better lie down!

        When your lips are all smeary—like tallow,
        And your tongue is decidedly yallow,
        With a pint of warm oil in your swallow,
              And a pound of tin-tacks in your chest—
        When you're down in the mouth with the vapours,
        And all over your Morris wall-papers
        Black-beetles are cutting their capers,
              And crawly things never at rest—
        When you doubt if your head is your own,
        And you jump when an open door slams—
        Then you've got to a state which is known
              To the medical world as "jim-jams"
                    If such symptoms you find
                          In your body or head,
                                They're not easy to quell—
                    You may make up your mind
                          You are better in bed,
                                For you're not at all well!

  (Sinks exhausted and weeping at foot of well.)

  Enter LUDWIG.

        LUD.  Now for my confession and full pardon.  They told me
  the Grand Duke was dancing duets in the Market-place, but I don't
  see him.  (Sees RUDOLPH.)  Hallo!  Who's this?  (Aside.)  Why, it
  is the Grand Duke!
        RUD.  (sobbing).  Who are you, sir, who presume to address
  me in person?  If you've anything to communicate, you must fling
  yourself at the feet of my Acting Temporary Sub-Deputy Assistant
  Vice-Chamberlain, who will fling himself at the feet of his
  immediate superior, and so on, with successive foot-flingings
  through the various grades—your communication will, in course of
  time, come to my august knowledge.
        LUD.  But when I inform your Highness that in me you see
  the
  most unhappy, the most unfortunate, the most completely miserable
  man in your whole dominion—
        RUD. (still sobbing).  You the most miserable man in my
  whole dominion?  How can you have the face to stand there and say
  such a thing?  Why, look at me!  Look at me!  (Bursts into
  tears.)
        LUD.  Well, I wouldn't be a cry-baby.
        RUD.  A cry-baby?  If you had just been told that you were
  going to be deposed to-morrow, and perhaps blown up with dynamite
  for all I know, wouldn't you be a cry-baby?  I do declare if I
  could only hit upon some cheap and painless method of putting an
  end to an existence which has become insupportable, I would
  unhesitatingly adopt it!
        LUD.  You would? (Aside.) I see a magnificent way out of
  this!  By Jupiter, I'll try it!  (Aloud.)  Are you, by any
  chance, in earnest?
        RUD.  In earnest?  Why, look at me!
        LUD.  If you are really in earnest—if you really desire to
  escape scot-free from this impending—this unspeakably horrible
  catastrophe—without trouble, danger, pain, or expense—why not
  resort to a Statutory Duel?
        RUD.  A Statutory Duel?
        LUD.  Yes.  The Act is still in force, but it will expire
  to-morrow afternoon.  You fight—you lose—you are dead for a
  day.  To-morrow, when the Act expires, you will come to life
  again and resume your Grand Duchy as though nothing had happened.
  In the meantime, the explosion will have taken place and the
  survivor will have had to bear the brunt of it.
        RUD.  Yes, that's all very well, but who'll be fool enough
  to be the survivor?
        LUD.  (kneeling).  Actuated by an overwhelming sense of
  attachment to your Grand Ducal person, I unhesitatingly offer
  myself as the victim of your subjects' fury.
        RUD.  You do?  Well, really that's very handsome.  I
  daresay
  being blown up is not nearly as unpleasant as one would think.
        LUD.  Oh, yes it is.  It mixes one up, awfully!
        RUD.  But suppose I were to lose?
        LUD.  Oh, that's easily arranged.  (Producing cards.)  I'll
  put an Ace up my sleeve—you'll put a King up yours.  When the
  drawing takes place, I shall seem to draw the higher card and you
  the lower.  And there you are!
        RUD.  Oh, but that's cheating.
        LUD.  So it is.  I never thought of that.  (Going.)
        RUD.  (hastily).  Not that I mind.  But I say—you won't
  take an unfair advantage of your day of office?  You won't go
  tipping people, or squandering my little savings in fireworks, or
  any nonsense of that sort?
        LUD.  I am hurt—really hurt—by the suggestion.
        RUD.  You—you wouldn't like to put down a deposit,
  perhaps?
        LUD.  No.  I don't think I should like to put down a
  deposit.
        RUD.  Or give a guarantee?
        LUD.  A guarantee would be equally open to objection.
        RUD.  It would be more regular.  Very well, I suppose you
  must have your own way.
        LUD.  Good.  I say—we must have a devil of a quarrel!
        RUD.  Oh, a devil of a quarrel!
        LUD.  Just to give colour to the thing.  Shall I give you a
  sound thrashing before all the people?  Say the word—it's no
  trouble.
        RUD.  No, I think not, though it would be very convincing
  and it's extremely good and thoughtful of you to suggest it.
  Still, a devil of a quarrel!
        LUD.  Oh, a devil of a quarrel!
        RUD.  No half measures.  Big words—strong language—rude
  remarks.  Oh, a devil of a quarrel!
        LUD.  Now the question is, how shall we summon the people?
        RUD.  Oh, there's no difficulty about that.  Bless your
  heart, they've been staring at us through those windows for the
  last half-hour!

                            FINALE.

  RUD.  Come hither, all you people—
              When you hear the fearful news,
        All the pretty women weep'll,
              Men will shiver in their shoes.

  LUD.  And they'll all cry "Lord, defend us!"
        When they learn the fact tremendous
              That to give this man his gruel
              In a Statutory Duel—

  BOTH.       This plebeian man of shoddy—
              This contemptible nobody—
                    Your Grand Duke does not refuse!

  (During this, Chorus of men and women have entered, all trembling
        with apprehension under the impression that they are to be
        arrested for their complicity in the conspiracy.)

  CHORUS.

        With faltering feet,
                                And our muscles in a quiver,
        Our fate we meet
                                With our feelings all unstrung!
        If our plot complete
                                He has managed to diskiver,
        There is no retreat—
                                We shall certainly be hung!

  RUD.  (aside to LUDWIG).
        Now you begin and pitch it strong—walk into me abusively—

  LUD.  (aside to RUDOLPH).
        I've several epithets that I've reserved for you
              exclusively.
        A choice selection I have here when you are ready to begin.

  RUD.  Now you begin

  LUD.        No, you begin—

  RUD.              No, you begin—

  LUD.                    No, you begin!

  CHORUS (trembling).
              Has it happed as we expected?
              Is our little plot detected?

  DUET—RUDOLPH and LUDWIG

  RUD.  (furiously).
        Big bombs, small bombs, great guns and little ones!
                          Put him in a pillory!
                          Rack him with artillery!

  LUD. (furiously).
        Long swords, short swords, tough swords and brittle ones!
                          Fright him into fits!
                          Blow him into bits!

  RUD.        You muff, sir!

  LUD.        You lout, sir!

  RUD.        Enough, sir!

  LUD.        Get out, sir!  (Pushes him.)

  RUD.        A hit, sir?

  LUD.        Take that, sir!  (Slaps him.)

  RUD.        It's tit, sir,

  LUD.        For tat, sir!

  CHORUS (appalled).
        When two doughty heroes thunder,
        All the world is lost in wonder;
              When such men their temper lose,
              Awful are the words they use!

  LUD.  Tall snobs, small snobs, rich snobs and needy ones!

  RUD.  (jostling him).  Whom are you alluding to?

  LUD.  (jostling him).  Where are you intruding to?

  RUD.  Fat snobs, thin snobs, swell snobs and seedy ones!

  LUD.  I rather think you err.
        To whom do you refer?

  RUD.  To you, sir!

  LUD.        To me, sir?

  RUD.  I do, sir!

  LUD.        We'll see, sir!

  RUD.  I jeer, sir!
  (Makes a face at LUDWIG.)  Grimace, sir!

  LUD.  Look here, sir—
  (Makes a face at RUDOLPH.)  A face, sir!

  CHORUS (appalled).
        When two heroes, once pacific,
        Quarrel, the effect's terrific!
              What a horrible grimace!
              What a paralysing face!

  ALL.  Big bombs, small bombs, etc.

  LUD. and RUD. (recit.).
        He has insulted me, and, in a breath,
        This day we fight a duel to the death!

  NOT. (checking them).
        You mean, of course, by duel (verbum sat.),
        A Statutory Duel.

  ALL.                          Why, what's that?

  NOT.  According to established legal uses,
        A card apiece each bold disputant chooses—
        Dead as a doornail is the dog who loses—
        The winner steps into the dead man's shoeses!

  ALL.  The winner steps into the dead man's shoeses!

  RUD. and Lud.           Agreed!  Agreed!

  RUD.  Come, come—the pack!

  LUD. (producing one).         Behold it here!

  RUD.  I'm on the rack!

  LUD.                          I quake with fear!

  (NOTARY offers card to LUDWIG.)

  LUD.  First draw to you!

  RUD.                          If that's the case,
        Behold the King! (Drawing card from his sleeve.)

  LUD.  (same business).        Behold the Ace!

  CHORUS.     Hurrah, hurrah!  Our Ludwig's won
              And wicked Rudolph's course is run—
              So Ludwig will as Grand Duke reign
              Till Rudolph comes to life again—

  RUD.        Which will occur to-morrow!
              I come to life to-morrow!

  GRET.  (with mocking curtsey).
              My Lord Grand Duke, farewell!
                    A pleasant journey, very,
              To your convenient cell
                    In yonder cemetery!

  LISA  (curtseying).
              Though malcontents abuse you,
              We're much distressed to lose you!
              You were, when you were living,
              So liberal, so forgiving!

  BERTHA.     So merciful, so gentle!
              So highly ormamental!

  OLGA.       And now that you've departed,
              You leave us broken-hearted!

  ALL (pretending to weep).  Yes, truly, truly, truly, truly—
                    Truly broken-hearted!
              Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! (Mocking him.)

  RUD.  (furious).  Rapscallions, in penitential fires,
              You'll rue the ribaldry that from you falls!
        To-morrow afternoon the law expires.
              And then—look out for squalls!
                                 [Exit RUDOLPH, amid general
  ridicule.

  CHORUS.     Give thanks, give thanks to wayward fate—
                    By mystic fortune's sway,
              Our Ludwig guides the helm of State
                    For one delightful day!

  (To LUDWIG.)      We hail you, sir!
                      We greet you, sir!
                    Regale you, sir!
                      We treat you, sir!
                          Our ruler be
                          By fate's decree
                    For one delightful day!

  NOT.  You've done it neatly!  Pity that your powers
        Are limited to four-and-twenty hours!

  LUD.  No matter, though the time will quickly run,
        In hours twenty-four much may be done!

                         SONG—LUDWIG.

        Oh, a Monarch who boasts intellectual graces
              Can do, if he likes, a good deal in a day—
        He can put all his friends in conspicuous places,
              With plenty to eat and with nothing to pay!
        You'll tell me, no doubt, with unpleasant grimaces,
        To-morrow, deprived of your ribbons and laces,
        You'll get your dismissal—with very long faces—
              But wait! on that topic I've something to say!
  (Dancing.)        I've something to say—I've something to
              say—I've something to say!
        Oh, our rule shall be merry—I'm not an ascetic—
              And while the sun shines we will get up our hay—
        By a pushing young Monarch, of turn energetic,
              A very great deal may be done in a day!

  CHORUS.     Oh, his rule will be merry, etc.

  (During this, LUDWIG whispers to NOTARY, who writes.)

        For instance, this measure (his ancestor drew it),
                                               (alluding to NOTARY)
              This law against duels—to-morrow will die—
        The Duke will revive, and you'll certainly rue it—
              He'll give you "what for" and he'll let you know why!
        But in twenty-four hours there's time to renew it—
        With a century's life I've the right to imbue it—
        It's easy to do—and, by Jingo, I'll do it!

  (Signing paper, which NOTARY presents.)

              It's done!  Till I perish your Monarch am I!
        Your Monarch am I—your Monarch am I—your Monarch am I!
              Though I do not pretend to be very prophetic,
                I fancy I know what you're going to say—
              By a pushing young Monarch, of turn energetic,
                A very great deal may be done in a day!

  ALL (astonished).
        Oh, it's simply uncanny, his power prophetic—
          It's perfectly right—we were going to say,
              By a pushing, etc.

  Enter JULIA, at back.

  LUD. (recit.).    This very afternoon—at two (about)—
        The Court appointments will be given out.
        To each and all (for that was the condition)
        According to professional position!

  ALL.              Hurrah!

  JULIA (coming forward).  According to professional position?

  LUD.  According to professional position!

  JULIA  Then, horror!

  ALL.  Why, what's the matter?  What's the matter?  What's the
              matter?

  SONG—JULIA. (LISA clinging to her.)
        Ah, pity me, my comrades true,
        Who love, as well I know you do,
              This gentle child,
                    To me so fondly dear!

  ALL.                    Why, what's the matter?

  JULIA  Our sister love so true and deep
        From many an eye unused to weep
              Hath oft beguiled
                    The coy reluctant tear!

  ALL.  Why, what's the matter?

  JULIA  Each sympathetic heart 'twill bruise
        When you have heard the frightful news
              (O will it not?)
                    That I must now impart!

  ALL.                    Why, what's the matter?

  JULIA.  Her love for him is all in all!
        Ah, cursed fate! that it should fall
              Unto my lot
                    To break my darling's heart!

  ALL.                    Why, what's the matter?

  LUD.  What means our Julia by those fateful looks?
        Please do not keep us all on tenter-hooks-
              Now, what's the matter?

  JULIA.      Our duty, if we're wise,
                    We never shun.
              This Spartan rule applies
                    To every one.
              In theatres, as in life,
                    Each has her line—
              This part—the Grand Duke's wife
                    (Oh agony!) is mine!
              A maxim new I do not start—
              The canons of dramatic art
              Decree that this repulsive part
                    (The Grand Duke's wife)
                          Is mine!

  ALL.              Oh, that's the matter!

  LISA (appalled, to LUDWIG).  Can that be so?

  LUD.        I do not know—
              But time will show
              If that be so.

  CHORUS.     Can that be so? etc.

  LISA (recit.).    Be merciful!

                    DUET—LISA and JULIA.

  LISA.       Oh, listen to me, dear—
                    I love him only, darling!
                          Remember, oh, my pet,
                          On him my heart is set
              This kindness do me, dear-
                    Nor leave me lonely, darling!
                          Be merciful, my pet,
                          Our love do not forget!

  JULIA.      Now don't be foolish, dear—
                    You couldn't play it, darling!
                          It's "leading business", pet
                          And you're but a soubrette.
              So don't be mulish, dear-
                    Although I say it, darling,
                          It's not your line, my pet—
                          I play that part, you bet!
                                I play that part—
                          I play that part, you bet!

  (LISA overwhelmed with grief.)

  NOT.  The lady's right. Though Julia's engagement
                          Was for the stage meant—
        It certainly frees Ludwig from his
                          Connubial promise.
        Though marriage contracts—or whate'er you call 'em—
                          Are very solemn,
        Dramatic contracts (which you all adore so)
                          Are even more so!

  ALL.              That's very true!
        Though marriage contracts, etc.

                       SONG—LISA.

              The die is cast,
                    My hope has perished!
                          Farewell, O Past,
                          Too bright to last,
                    Yet fondly cherished!
                          My light has fled,
                          My hope is dead,
                    Its doom is spoken—
                          My day is night,
                          My wrong is right
                          In all men's sight—
                    My heart is broken!
                                                         [Exit
  weeping.

  LUD. (recit.).    Poor child, where will she go?  What will she
  do?

  JULIA. That isn't in your part, you know.

  LUD. (sighing).                           Quite true!
  (With an effort.) Depressing topics we'll not touch upon—
                    Let us begin as we are going on!
        For this will be a jolly Court, for little and for big!

  ALL.  Sing hey, the jolly jinks of Pfennig Halbpfennig!

  LUD.  From morn to night our lives shall be as merry as a grig!

  ALL.  Sing hey, the jolly jinks of Pfennig Halbpfennig!

  LUD.  All state and ceremony we'll eternally abolish—
        We don't mean to insist upon unnecessary polish—
        And, on the whole, I rather think you'll find our rule
              tollolish!
  ALL.  Sing hey, the jolly jinks of Pfennig Halbpfennig!

  JULIA.      But stay—your new-made Court
                    Without a courtly coat is—
                          We shall require
                          Some Court attire,
                    And at a moment's notice.
              In clothes of common sort
                    Your courtiers must not grovel—
                          Your new noblesse
                          Must have a dress
                    Original and novel!

  LUD.        Old Athens we'll exhume!
                    The necessary dresses,
                          Correct and true
                          And all brand-new,
                    The company possesses:
              Henceforth our Court costume
                    Shall live in song and story,
                          For we'll upraise
                          The dead old days
                    Of Athens in her glory!

  ALL.                    Yes, let's upraise
                          The dead old days
                    Of Athens in her glory!

  ALL.        Agreed!  Agreed!
        For this will be a jolly Court for little and for big! etc

  (They carry LUDWIG round stage and deposit him on the ironwork of
        well. JULIA stands by him, and the rest group round them.)

                              END OF ACT I.





ACT II.
  (THE NEXT MORNING.)

  SCENE.—Entrance Hall of the Grand Ducal Palace.

  Enter a procession of the members of the theatrical company (now
        dressed in the costumes of Troilus and Cressida), carrying
        garlands, playing on pipes, citharae, and cymbals, and
        heralding the return of LUDWIG and JULIA from the marriage
        ceremony, which has just taken place.

  CHORUS.

        As before you we defile,
                    Eloia!  Eloia!
        Pray you, gentles, do not smile
        If we shout, in classic style,
                    Eloia!
        Ludwig and his Julia true
        Wedded are each other to—
        So we sing, till all is blue,
                    Eloia!  Eloia!
                    Opoponax!  Eloia!

        Wreaths of bay and ivy twine,
                    Eloia!  Eloia!
        Fill the bowl with Lesbian wine,
        And to revelry incline—
                    Eloia!

        For as gaily we pass on
        Probably we shall, anon,
        Sing a Diergeticon—
                    Eloia! Eloia!
                    Opoponax! Eloia!

  RECIT.—LUDWIG.

        Your loyalty our Ducal heartstrings touches:
        Allow me to present your new Grand Duchess.
        Should she offend, you'll graciously excuse her—
        And kindly recollect I didn't choose her!

                         SONG—LUDWIG.

  At the outset I may mention it's my sovereign intention
        To revive the classic memories of Athens at its best,
  For the company possesses all the necessary dresses
        And a course of quiet cramming will supply us with the
  rest.
  We've a choir hyporchematic (that is, ballet-operatic)
        Who respond to the choreut of that cultivated age,
  And our clever chorus-master, all but captious criticaster
        Would accept as the choregus of the early Attic stage.
  This return to classic ages is considered in their wages,
        Which are always calculated by the day or by the week—
  And I'll pay 'em (if they'll back me) all in oboloi and drachm,
        Which they'll get (if they prefer it) at the Kalends that
              are Greek!

  (Confidentially to audience.)
        At this juncture I may mention
              That this erudition sham
        Is but classical pretension,
              The result of steady "cram.":
        Periphrastic methods spurning,
        To this audience discerning
        I admit this show of learning
              Is the fruit of steady "cram."!

  CHORUS.     Periphrastic methods, etc.

  In the period Socratic every dining-room was Attic
        (Which suggests an architecture of a topsy-turvy kind),
  There they'd satisfy their thirst on a recherche cold {Greek
  word}
        Which is what they called their lunch—and so may you if
              you're inclined.
  As they gradually got on, they'd {four Greek words)
        (Which is Attic for a steady and a conscientious drink).
  But they mixed their wine with water—which I'm sure they didn't
              oughter—
        And we modern Saxons know a trick worth two of that, I
              think!
  Then came rather risky dances (under certain circumstances)
        Which would shock that worthy gentleman, the Licenser of
              Plays,
  Corybantian maniac kick—Dionysiac or Bacchic—
        And the Dithyrambic revels of those undecorous days.

  (Confidentially to audience.)
              And perhaps I'd better mention,
                    Lest alarming you I am,
              That it isn't our intention
                    To perform a Dithyramb—
              It displays a lot of stocking,
              Which is always very shocking,
              And of course I'm only mocking
                    At the prevalence of "cram"!

  CHORUS.                 It displays a lot, etc.

  Yes, on reconsideration, there are customs of that nation
        Which are not in strict accordance with the habits of our
              day,
  And when I come to codify, their rules I mean to modify,
        Or Mrs. Grundy, p'r'aps, may have a word or two to say.
  For they hadn't macintoshes or umbrellas or goloshes—
        And a shower with their dresses must have played the very
              deuce,
  And it must have been unpleasing when they caught a fit of
              sneezing,
        For, it seems, of pocket-handkerchiefs they didn't know the
              use.
  They wore little underclothing—scarcely anything—or nothing—
        And their dress of Coan silk was quite transparent in
              design—
  Well, in fact, in summer weather, something like the "altogether"
        And it's there, I rather fancy, I shall have to draw the
              line!

  (Confidentially to audience.)
              And again I wish to mention
                    That this erudition sham
              Is but classical pretension,
                    The result of steady "cram."
              Yet my classic lore aggressive
              (If you'll pardon the possessive)
              Is exceedingly impressive
                    When you're passing an exam.

  CHORUS.                 Yet his classic lore, etc.

        [Exeunt Chorus.  Manent LUDWIG, JULIA, and LISA.

  LUD. (recit.).
              Yes, Ludwig and his Julia are mated!
        For when an obscure comedian, whom the law backs,
              To sovereign rank is promptly elevated,
        He takes it with its incidental drawbacks!
              So Julia and I are duly mated!

        (LISA, through this, has expressed intense distress at
              having to surrender LUDWIG.)

                           SONG—LISA.

        Take care of him—he's much too good to live,
              With him you must be very gentle:
        Poor fellow, he's so highly sensitive,
              And O, so sentimental!
        Be sure you never let him sit up late
              In chilly open air conversing—
        Poor darling, he's extremely delicate,
              And wants a deal of nursing!

  LUD.        I want a deal of nursing!

  LISA.       And O, remember this—
                    When he is cross with pain,
              A flower and a kiss—
              A simple flower—a tender kiss
                    Will bring him round again!

        His moods you must assiduously watch:
              When he succumbs to sorrow tragic,
        Some hardbake or a bit of butter-scotch
              Will work on him like magic.
        To contradict a character so rich
              In trusting love were simple blindness—
        He's one of those exalted natures which
              Will only yield to kindness!

  LUD.        I only yield to kindness!

  LISA.       And O, the bygone bliss!
                    And O, the present pain!
              That flower and that kiss—
              That simple flower—that tender kiss
                    I ne'er shall give again!

                                                       [Exit,
  weeping.

        JULIA.  And now that everybody has gone, and we're happily
  and comfortably married, I want to have a few words with my
  new-born husband.
        LUD. (aside).  Yes, I expect you'll often have a few words
  with your new-born husband!  (Aloud.)  Well, what is it?
        JULIA.  Why, I've been thinking that as you and I have to
  play our parts for life, it is most essential that we should come
  to a definite understanding as to how they shall be rendered.
  Now, I've been considering how I can make the most of the Grand
  Duchess.
        LUD.  Have you?  Well, if you'll take my advice, you'll
  make
  a very fine part of it.
        JULIA.  Why, that's quite my idea.
        LUD.  I shouldn't make it one of your hoity-toity vixenish
  viragoes.
        JULIA.  You think not?
        LUD.  Oh, I'm quite clear about that.  I should make her a
  tender, gentle, submissive, affectionate (but not too
  affectionate) child-wife—timidly anxious to coil herself into
  her husband's heart, but kept in check by an awestruck reverence
  for his exalted intellectual qualities and his majestic personal
  appearance.
        JULIA.  Oh, that is your idea of a good part?
        LUD.  Yes—a wife who regards her husband's slightest wish
  as an inflexible law, and who ventures but rarely into his august
  presence, unless (which would happen seldom) he should summon her
  to appear before him.  A crushed, despairing violet, whose
  blighted existence would culminate (all too soon) in a lonely and
  pathetic death-scene!  A fine part, my dear.
        JULIA.  Yes.  There's a good deal to be said for your view
  of it.  Now there are some actresses whom it would fit like a
  glove.
        LUD.  (aside).  I wish I'd married one of 'em!
        JULIA.  But, you see, I must consider my temperament. For
  instance, my temperament would demand some strong scenes of
  justifiable jealousy.
        LUD.  Oh, there's no difficulty about that.  You shall have
  them.
        JULIA.  With a lovely but detested rival—
        LUD.  Oh, I'll provide the rival.
        JULIA.  Whom I should stab—stab—stab!
        LUD.  Oh, I wouldn't stab her.  It's been done to death.  I
  should treat her with a silent and contemptuous disdain, and
  delicately withdraw from a position which, to one of your
  sensitive nature, would be absolutely untenable.  Dear me, I can
  see you delicately withdrawing, up centre and off!
        JULIA.  Can you?
        LUD.  Yes.  It's a fine situation—and in your hands, full
  of quiet pathos!

                       DUET—LUDWIG and JULIA.

  LUD.        Now Julia, come,
              Consider it from
                    This dainty point of view—
              A timid tender
              Feminine gender,
                    Prompt to coyly coo—
              Yet silence seeking,
              Seldom speaking
                    Till she's spoken to—
              A comfy, cosy,
              Rosy-posy
                    Innocent ingenoo!
                          The part you're suited to—
                          (To give the deuce her due)
                    A sweet (O, jiminy!)
                    Miminy-piminy,
                          Innocent ingenoo!

                            ENSEMBLE.

              LUD.                                JULIA.

  The part you're suited to—         I'm much obliged to you,
  (To give the deuce her due)         I don't think that would do—
        A sweet (O, jiminy!)                To play (O, jiminy!)
        Miminy-piminy,                      Miminy-piminy,
  Innocent ingenoo!                   Innocent ingenoo!

  JULIA.      You forget my special magic
                    (In a high dramatic sense)
              Lies in situations tragic—
                    Undeniably intense.
              As I've justified promotion
                    In the histrionic art,
              I'll submit to you my notion
                    Of a first-rate part.

  LUD.        Well, let us see your notion
                    Of a first-rate part.

  JULIA (dramatically).
        I have a rival!  Frenzy-thrilled,
              I find you both together!
        My heart stands still—with horror chilled—-
              Hard as the millstone nether!
        Then softly, slyly, snaily, snaky—
        Crawly, creepy, quaily, quaky—
              I track her on her homeward way,
              As panther tracks her fated prey!

  (Furiously.)      I fly at her soft white throat—
              The lily-white laughing leman!
        On her agonized gaze I gloat
              With the glee of a dancing demon!
        My rival she—I have no doubt of her—-
        So I hold on—till the breath is out of her!
                    —till the breath is out of her!

        And then—Remorse! Remorse!
        O cold unpleasant corse,
                    Avaunt! Avaunt!
              That lifeless form
                    I gaze upon—
              That face, still warm
                    But weirdly wan—
              Those eyes of glass
                    I contemplate—
              And then, alas!
                    Too late—too late!
              I find she is—your Aunt!
  (Shuddering.)     Remorse!  Remorse!

        Then, mad—mad—mad!
              With fancies wild—chimerical—
        Now sorrowful—silent—sad—
              Now hullaballoo hysterical!
                    Ha! ha! ha! ha!
        But whether I'm sad or whether I'm glad,
              Mad! mad! mad! mad!

        This calls for the resources of a high-class art,
        And satisfies my notion of a first-rate part!
  [Exit JULIA

  Enter all the Chorus, hurriedly, and in great excitement.

  CHORUS.

        Your Highness, there's a party at the door—
              Your Highness, at the door there is a party—
                    She says that we expect her,
                    But we do not recollect her,
        For we never saw her countenance before!

        With rage and indignation she is rife,
              Because our welcome wasn't very hearty—
                    She's as sulky as a super,
                    And she's swearing like a trooper,
        O, you never heard such language in your life!

  Enter BARONESS VON KRAKENFELDT, in a fury.

  BAR.  With fury indescribable I burn!
              With rage I'm nearly ready to explode!
        There'll be grief and tribulation when I learn
              To whom this slight unbearable is owed!
                    For whatever may be due I'll pay it double—
                    There'll be terror indescribable and trouble!
                    With a hurly-burly and a hubble-bubble
              I'll pay you for this pretty episode!

  ALL.        Oh, whatever may be due she'll pay it double!—
              It's very good of her to take the trouble—
              But we don't know what she means by "hubble-bubble"—
        No doubt it's an expression  la mode.

  BAR. (to LUDWIG).
              Do you know who I am?

  LUD. (examining her).                     I don't;
              Your countenance I can't fix, my dear.

  BAR.  This proves I'm not a sham.
              (Showing pocket-handkerchief.)

  LUD. (examining it).                      It won't;
        It only says "Krakenfeldt, Six," my dear.

  BAR.  Express your grief profound!

  LUD.                                      I shan't!
              This tone I never allow, my love.

  BAR.  Rudolph at once produce!

  LUD.                                      I can't;
              He isn't at home just now, my love.

  BAR. (astonished).      He isn't at home just now!

  ALL.        He isn't at home just now,
  (Dancing derisively.)         He has an appointment particular,
  very-
              You'll find him, I think, in the town cemetery;
              And that's how we come to be making so merry,
                    For he isn't at home just now!

  BAR.  But bless my heart and soul alive, it's impudence
              personified!
        I've come here to be matrimonially matrimonified!

  LUD.  For any disappointment I am sorry unaffectedly,
        But yesterday that nobleman expired quite unexpectedly—

  ALL (sobbing).    Tol the riddle lol!
                    Tol the riddle lol!
        Tol the riddle, lol the riddle, lol lol lay!
  (Then laughing wildly.)       Tol the riddle, lol the riddle, lol
  lol
                                      lay!

        BAR.  But this is most unexpected.  He was well enough at a
  quarter to twelve yesterday.
        LUD.  Yes.  He died at half-past eleven.
        BAR.  Bless me, how very sudden!
        LUD.  It was sudden.
        BAR.  But what in the world am I to do?  I was to have been
  married to him to-day!

  ALL (singing and dancing).
        For any disappointment we are sorry unaffectedly,
        But yesterday that nobleman expired quite unexpectedly—
                    Tol the riddle lol!

        BAR.  Is this Court Mourning or a Fancy Ball?
        LUD.  Well, it's a delicate combination of both effects.
  It
  is intended to express inconsolable grief for the decease of the
  late Duke and ebullient joy at the accession of his successor.  I
  am his successor.  Permit me to present you to my Grand Duchess.
  (Indicating JULIA.)
        BAR.  Your Grand Duchess?  Oh, your Highness!  (Curtseying
  profoundly.)
        JULIA (sneering at her).  Old frump!
        BAR.  Humph!  A recent creation, probably?
        LUD.  We were married only half an hour ago.
        BAR.  Exactly. I thought she seemed new to the position.
        JULIA.  Ma'am, I don't know who you are, but I flatter
  myself I can do justice to any part on the very shortest notice.
        BAR.  My dear, under the circumstances you are doing
  admirably—and you'll improve with practice.  It's so difficult
  to be a lady when one isn't born to it.
        JULIA (in a rage, to LUDWIG).  Am I to stand this?  Am I
  not
  to be allowed to pull her to pieces?
        LUD.  (aside to JULIA).  No, no—it isn't Greek.  Be a
  violet, I beg.
        BAR.  And now tell me all about this distressing
  circumstance.  How did the Grand Duke die?
        LUD.  He perished nobly—in a Statutory Duel.
        BAR. In a Statutory Duel?  But that's only a civil
  death!—and the Act expires to-night, and then he will come to
  life again!
        LUD.  Well, no.  Anxious to inaugurate my reign by
  conferring some inestimable boon on my people, I signalized this
  occasion by reviving the law for another hundred years.
        BAR.  For another hundred years?  Then set the merry
  joybells ringing!  Let festive epithalamia resound through these
  ancient halls!  Cut the satisfying sandwich—broach the
  exhilarating Marsala—and let us rejoice to-day, if we never
  rejoice again!
        LUD.  But I don't think I quite understand.  We have
  already
  rejoiced a good deal.
        BAR.  Happy man, you little reck of the extent of the good
  things you are in for.  When you killed Rudolph you adopted all
  his overwhelming responsibilities.  Know then that I, Caroline
  von Krakenfeldt, am the most overwhelming of them all!
        LUD.  But stop, stop—I've just been married to somebody
  else!
        JULIA.  Yes, ma'am, to somebody else, ma'am!  Do you
  understand, ma'am?  To somebody else!
        BAR.  Do keep this young woman quiet; she fidgets me!
        JULIA.  Fidgets you!
        LUD.  (aside to JULIA).  Be a violet—a crushed, despairing
  violet.
        JULIA.  Do you suppose I intend to give up a magnificent
  part without a struggle?
        LUD.  My good girl, she has the law on her side.  Let us
  both bear this calamity with resignation.  If you must struggle,
  go away and struggle in the seclusion of your chamber.

                   SONG—BARONESS and CHORUS.

              Now away to the wedding we go,
                    So summon the charioteers—
              No kind of reluctance they show
                    To embark on their married careers.
              Though Julia's emotion may flow
                    For the rest of her maidenly years,
  ALL.        To the wedding we eagerly go,
                    So summon the charioteers!

                          Now away, etc.

  (All dance off to wedding except JULIA.)

  RECIT.—JULIA.

        So ends my dream—so fades my vision fair!
        Of hope no gleam—distraction and despair!
        My cherished dream, the Ducal throne to share
        That aim supreme has vanished into air!

                     SONG—JULIA.

        Broken every promise plighted—
              All is darksome—all is dreary.
              Every new-born hope is blighted!
              Sad and sorry—weak and weary
        Death the Friend or Death the Foe,
        Shall I call upon thee?  No!
        I will go on living, though
              Sad and sorry—weak and weary!

        No, no!  Let the bygone go by!
              No good ever came of repining:
        If to-day there are clouds o'er the sky,
              To-morrow the sun may be shining!
                    To-morrow, be kind,
                    To-morrow, to me!
                    With loyalty blind
                    I curtsey to thee!
        To-day is a day of illusion and sorrow,
        So viva To-morrow, To-morrow, To-morrow!
              God save you, To-morrow!
              Your servant, To-morrow!
        God save you, To-morrow, To-morrow, To-morrow!

  [Exit JULIA.
  Enter ERNEST.

        ERN.  It's of no use—I can't wait any longer.  At any risk
  I must gratify my urgent desire to know what is going on.
  (Looking off.)  Why, what's that?  Surely I see a wedding
  procession winding down the hill, dressed in my Troilus and
  Cressida costumes!  That's Ludwig's doing!  I see how it is—he
  found the time hang heavy on his hands, and is amusing himself by
  getting married to Lisa.  No—it can't be to Lisa, for here she
  is!

  Enter LISA.

        LISA (not seeing him).  I really cannot stand seeing my
  Ludwig married twice in one day to somebody else!
        ERN.  Lisa!
  (LISA sees him, and stands as if transfixed with horror.).
        ERN.  Come here—don't be a little fool—I want you.
  (LISA suddenly turns and bolts off.)
        ERN.  Why, what's the matter with the little donkey?  One
  would think she saw a ghost!  But if he's not marrying Lisa, whom
  is he marrying?  (Suddenly.)  Julia!  (Much overcome.)  I see it
  all!  The scoundrel!  He had to adopt all my responsibilities,
  and he's shabbily taken advantage of the situation to marry the
  girl I'm engaged to!  But no, it can't be Julia, for here she is!

  Enter JULIA.
        JULIA (not seeing him).  I've made up my mind.  I won't
  stand it!  I'll send in my notice at once!
        ERN.  Julia!  Oh, what a relief!

  (JULIA gazes at him as if transfixed.)

        ERN.  Then you've not married Ludwig?  You are still true
  to
  me?

  (JULIA turns and bolts in grotesque horror.  ERNEST follows and
        stops her.)

        ERN.  Don't run away!  Listen to me.  Are you all crazy?
        JULIA (in affected terror).  What would you with me,
  spectre?  Oh, ain't his eyes sepulchral!  And ain't his voice
  hollow!  What are you doing out of your tomb at this time of
  day—apparition?
        ERN.  I do wish I could make you girls understand that I'm
  only technically dead, and that physically I'm as much alive as
  ever I was in my life!
        JULIA.  Oh, but it's an awful thing to be haunted by a
  technical bogy!
        ERN.  You won't be haunted much longer.  The law must be on
  its last legs, and in a few hours I shall come to life
  again—resume all my social and civil functions, and claim my
  darling as my blushing bride!
        JULIA.  Oh—then you haven't heard?
        ERN.  My love, I've heard nothing.  How could I?  There are
  no daily papers where I come from.
        JULIA.  Why, Ludwig challenged Rudolph and won, and now
  he's
  Grand Duke, and he's revived the law for another century!
        ERN.  What!  But you're not serious—you're only joking!
        JULIA.  My good sir, I'm a light-hearted girl, but I don't
  chaff bogies.
        ERN.  Well, that's the meanest dodge I ever heard of!
        JULIA.  Shabby trick, I call it.
        ERN.  But you don't mean to say that you're going to cry
  off!
        JULIA.  I really can't afford to wait until your time is
  up.
  You know, I've always set my face against long engagements.
        ERN.  Then defy the law and marry me now.  We will fly to
  your native country, and I'll play broken-English in London as
  you play broken-German here!
        JULIA.  No.  These legal technicalities cannot be defied.
  Situated as you are, you have no power to make me your wife.  At
  best you could only make me your widow.
        ERN.  Then be my widow—my little, dainty, winning, winsome
  widow!
        JULIA.  Now what would be the good of that?  Why, you
  goose,
  I should marry again within a month!

                       DUET—ERNEST and JULIA.

  ERN.        If the light of love's lingering ember
                    Has faded in gloom,
              You cannot neglect, O remember,
                    A voice from the tomb!
              That stern supernatural diction
              Should act as a solemn restriction,
              Although by a mere legal fiction
                    A voice from the tomb!

  JULIA (in affected terror).
              I own that that utterance chills me—
                    It withers my bloom!
              With awful emotion it thrills me—
                    That voice from the tomb!
              Oh, spectre, won't anything lay thee?
              Though pained to deny or gainsay thee,
              In this case I cannot obey thee,
                    Thou voice from the tomb!

  (Dancing.)        So,  spectre, appalling,
                          I bid you good-day—
                    Perhaps you'll be calling
                          When passing this way.
                    Your bogydom scorning,
                    And all your love-lorning,
                    I bid you good-morning,
                          I bid you good-day.

  ERN. (furious).         My offer recalling,
                          Your words I obey—
                    Your fate is appalling,
                          And full of dismay.
                    To pay for this scorning
                    I give you fair warning
                    I'll haunt you each morning,
                          Each night, and each day!

        (Repeat Ensemble, and exeunt in opposite directions.)

  Re-enter the Wedding Procession dancing.

  CHORUS.

        Now bridegroom and bride let us toast
              In a magnum of merry champagne—
        Let us make of this moment the most,
              We may not be so lucky again.
        So drink to our sovereign host
              And his highly intelligent reign—
        His health and his bride's let us toast
              In a magnum of merry champagne!

                  SONG—BARONESS with CHORUS.

        I once gave an evening party
              (A sandwich and cut-orange ball),
        But my guests had such appetites hearty
              That I couldn't enjoy it, enjoy it at all.
        I made a heroic endeavour
              To look unconcerned, but in vain,
        And I vow'd that I never—oh never
              Would ask anybody again!
        But there's a distinction decided—-
              A difference truly immense—
        When the wine that you drink is provided, provided,
              At somebody else's expense.
        So bumpers—aye, ever so many—
              The cost we may safely ignore!
        For the wine doesn't cost us a penny,
              Tho' it's Pommry seventy-four!

  CHORUS.     So bumpers—aye, ever so many—etc.

        Come, bumpers—aye, ever so many—
              And then, if you will, many more!
        This wine doesn't cost us a penny,
              Tho' it's Pommry, Pommry seventy-four!
        Old wine is a true panacea
              For ev'ry conceivable ill,
        When you cherish the soothing idea
              That somebody else pays the bill!
        Old wine is a pleasure that's hollow
              When at your own table you sit,
        For you're thinking each mouthful you swallow
              Has cost you, has cost you a threepenny-bit!
        So bumpers—aye, ever so many—
              And then, if you will, many more!
        This wine doesn't cost us a penny,
              Tho' it's Pommry seventy-four!

  CHORUS.     So, bumpers—aye, ever so many—etc.

  (March heard.)

  LUD. (recit.).    Why, who is this approaching,
              Upon our joy encroaching?
              Some rascal come a-poaching
              Who's heard that wine we're broaching?

  ALL.              Who may this be?
                    Who may this be?
              Who is he?  Who is he?  Who is he?

  Enter HERALD.

  HER.  The Prince of Monte Carlo,
              From Mediterranean water,
        Has come here to bestow
              On you his beautiful daughter.
        They've paid off all they owe,
              As every statesman oughter—
        That Prince of Monte Carlo
              And his be-eautiful daughter!

  CHORUS.           The Prince of Monte Carlo, etc.

  HER.  The Prince of Monte Carlo,
              Who is so very partickler,
        Has heard that you're also
              For ceremony a stickler—
        Therefore he lets you know
              By word of mouth auric'lar—
        (That Prince of Monte Carlo
              Who is so very particklar)—

  CHORUS.     The Prince of Monte Carlo, etc.

  HER.  That Prince of Monte Carlo,
              From Mediterranean water,
        Has come here to bestow
              On you his be-eautiful daughter!

  LUD. (recit.).    His Highness we know not—nor the locality
        In which is situate his Principality;
        But, as he guesses by some odd fatality,
        This is the shop for cut and dried formality!
              Let him appear—
              He'll find that we're
        Remarkable for cut and dried formality.

  (Reprise of March.  Exit HERALD.
  LUDWIG beckons his Court.)

  LUD.  I have a plan—I'll tell you all the plot of it—
        He wants formality—he shall have a lot of it!
  (Whispers to them, through symphony.)
        Conceal yourselves, and when I give the cue,
        Spring out on him—you all know what to do!
  (All conceal themselves behind the draperies that enclose the
  stage.)

  Pompous March.  Enter the PRINCE and PRINCESS OF MONTE CARLO,
        attended by six theatrical-looking nobles and the Court
        Costumier.

                  DUET—Prince and PRINCESS.

  PRINCE.     We're rigged out in magnificent array
                    (Our own clothes are much gloomier)
              In costumes which we've hired by the day
                    From a very well-known costumier.

  COST. (bowing).         I am the well-known costumier.

  PRINCESS.   With a brilliant staff a Prince should make a show
                    (It's a rule that never varies),
              So we've engaged from the Theatre Monaco
                    Six supernumeraries.

  NOBLES.           We're the supernumeraries.

  ALL.              At a salary immense,
                    Quite regardless of expense,
              Six supernumeraries!

  PRINCE.     They do not speak, for they break our grammar's laws,
                    And their language is lamentable—
              And they never take off their gloves, because
                    Their nails are not presentable.

  NOBLES.           Our nails are not presentable!

  PRINCESS.   To account for their shortcomings manifest
                    We explain, in a whisper bated,
              They are wealthy members of the brewing interest
                    To the Peerage elevated.

  NOBLES.           To the Peerage elevated.

  ALL.        They're/We're very, very rich,
                    And accordingly, as sich,
              To the Peerage elevated.

        PRINCE.  Well, my dear, here we are at last—just in time
  to
  compel Duke Rudolph to fulfil the terms of his marriage contract.
  Another hour and we should have been too late.
        PRINCESS.  Yes, papa, and if you hadn't fortunately
  discovered a means of making an income by honest industry, we
  should never have got here at all.
        PRINCE.  Very true.  Confined for the last two years within
  the precincts of my palace by an obdurate bootmaker who held a
  warrant for my arrest, I devoted my enforced leisure to a study
  of the doctrine of chances—mainly with the view of ascertaining
  whether there was the remotest chance of my ever going out for a
  walk again—and this led to the discovery of a singularly
  fascinating little round game which I have called Roulette, and
  by which, in one sitting, I won no less than five thousand
  francs!  My first act was to pay my bootmaker—my second, to
  engage a good useful working set of second-hand nobles—and my
  third, to hurry you off to Pfennig Halbpfennig as fast as a train
  de luxe could carry us!
        PRINCESS.  Yes, and a pretty job-lot of second-hand nobles
  you've scraped together!
        PRINCE (doubtfully).  Pretty, you think?  Humph!  I don't
  know.  I should say tol-lol, my love—only tol-lol.  They are not
  wholly satisfactory.  There is a certain air of unreality about
  them—they are not convincing.
        COST.  But, my goot friend, vhat can you expect for
  eighteenpence a day!
        PRINCE.  Now take this Peer, for instance.  What the deuce
  do you call him?
        COST.  Him?  Oh, he's a swell—he's the Duke of Riviera.
        PRINCE.  Oh, he's a Duke, is he?  Well, that's no reason
  why
  he should look so confoundedly haughty.  (To Noble.)  Be affable,
  sir!  (Noble takes attitude of affability.)  That's better.
  (Passing to another.)  Now, who's this with his moustache coming
  off?
        COST.  Vhy; you're Viscount Mentone, ain't you?
        NOBLE.  Blest if I know.  (Turning up sword-belt.)  It's
  wrote here—yes, Viscount Mentone.
        COST.  Then vhy don't you say so?  'Old yerself up—you
  ain't carryin' sandwich boards now.  (Adjusts his moustache.)
        PRINCE.  Now, once for all, you Peers—when His Highness
  arrives, don't stand like sticks, but appear to take an
  intelligent and sympathetic interest in what is going on.  You
  needn't say anything, but let your gestures be in accordance with
  the spirit of the conversation.  Now take the word from me.
  Affability!  (attitude).  Submission!  (attitude).  Surprise!
  (attitude).  Shame!  (attitude).  Grief!  (attitude).  Joy!
  (attitude).  That's better!  You can do it if you like!
        PRINCESS.  But, papa, where in the world is the Court?
  There is positively no one here to receive us!  I can't help
  feeling that Rudolph wants to get out of it because I'm poor.
  He's a miserly little wretch—that's what he is.
        PRINCE.  Well, I shouldn't go so far as to say that.  I
  should rather describe him as an enthusiastic collector of
  coins—of the realm—and we must not be too hard upon a
  numismatist if he feels a certain disinclination to part with
  some of his really very valuable specimens.  It's a pretty hobby:
  I've often thought I should like to collect some coins myself.
        PRINCESS.  Papa, I'm sure there's some one behind that
  curtain.  I saw it move!
        PRINCE.  Then no doubt they are coming.  Now mind, you
  Peers—haughty affability combined with a sense of what is due to
  your exalted ranks, or I'll fine you half a franc each—upon my
  soul I will!

  (Gong.  The curtains fly back and the Court are discovered. They
        give a wild yell and rush on to the stage dancing wildly,
        with PRINCE, PRINCESS, and Nobles, who are taken by
  surprise
        at first, but eventually join in a reckless dance.  At the
        end all fall down exhausted.)

        LUD.  There, what do you think of that?  That's our
  official
  ceremonial for the reception of visitors of the very highest
  distinction.
        PRINCE (puzzled). It's very quaint—very curious indeed.
  Prettily footed, too.  Prettily footed.
        LUD.  Would you like to see how we say "good-bye" to
  visitors of distinction?  That ceremony is also performed with
  the foot.
        PRINCE.  Really, this tone—ah, but perhaps you have not
  completely grasped the situation?
        LUD.  Not altogether.
        PRINCE.  Ah, then I'll give you a lead over.
  (Significantly:)  I am the father of the Princess of Monte Carlo.
  Doesn't that convey any idea to the Grand Ducal mind?
        LUD. (stolidly).  Nothing definite.
        PRINCE (aside).  H'm—very odd!  Never mind—try again!
  (Aloud.)  This is the daughter of the Prince of Monte Carlo.  Do
  you take?
        LUD. (still puzzled).  No—not yet.  Go on—don't give it
  up—I dare say it will come presently.
        PRINCE.  Very odd—never mind—try again.  (With sly
  significance.)  Twenty years ago!  Little doddle doddle!  Two
  little doddle doddles!  Happy father—hers and yours.  Proud
  mother—yours and hers!  Hah!  Now you take?  I see you do!  I
  see you do!
        LUD.  Nothing is more annoying than to feel that you're not
  equal to the intellectual pressure of the conversation.  I wish
  he'd say something intelligible.
        PRINCE.  You didn't expect me?
        LUD. (jumping at it).  No, no.  I grasp that—thank you
  very
  much.  (Shaking hands with him.)  No, I did not expect you!
        PRINCE.  I thought not.  But ha! ha! at last I have escaped
  from my enforced restraint.  (General movement of alarm.)  (To
  crowd who are stealing off.)  No, no—you misunderstand me.  I
  mean I've paid my debts!
        ALL.  Oh!  (They return.)
        PRINCESS (affectionately).  But, my darling, I'm afraid
  that
  even now you don't quite realize who I am!  (Embracing him.)
        BARONESS.  Why, you forward little hussy, how dare you?
  (Takes her away from LUDWIG.)
        LUD.  You mustn't do that, my dear—never in the presence
  of
  the Grand Duchess, I beg!
        PRINCESS (weeping).  Oh, papa, he's got a Grand Duchess!
        LUD.  A Grand Duchess!  My good girl, I've got three Grand
  Duchesses!
        PRINCESS.  Well, I'm sure!  Papa, let's go away—this is
  not
  a respectable Court.
        PRINCE.  All these Grand Dukes have their little fancies,
  my
  love.  This potentate appears to be collecting wives.  It's a
  pretty hobby—I should like to collect a few myself.  This
  (admiring BARONESS) is a charming specimen—an antique, I should
  say—of the early Merovingian period, if I'm not mistaken; and
  here's another—a Scotch lady, I think (alluding to JULIA), and
  (alluding to LISA) a little one thrown in.  Two half-quarterns
  and a makeweight!  (To LUDWIG.)  Have you such a thing as a
  catalogue of the Museum?
        PRINCESS.  But I cannot permit Rudolph to keep a museum—
        LUD.  Rudolph?  Get along with you, I'm not Rudolph!
  Rudolph died yesterday!
        PRINCE and PRINCESS.  What!
        LUD.  Quite suddenly—of—of—a cardiac affection.
        PRINCE and PRINCESS.  Of a cardiac affection!
        LUD.  Yes, a pack-of-cardiac affection.  He fought a
  Statutory Duel with me and lost, and I took over all his
  engagements—including this imperfectly preserved old lady, to
  whom he has been engaged for the last three weeks.
        PRINCESS.  Three weeks!  But I've been engaged to him for
  the last twenty years!
        BARONESS, LISA, and JULIA.  Twenty years!
        PRINCE (aside).  It's all right, my love—they can't get
  over that.  (Aloud.)  He's yours—take him, and hold him as tight
  as you can!
        PRINCESS.  My own!  (Embracing LUDWIG.)
        LUD.  Here's another!—the fourth in four-and-twenty hours!
  Would anybody else like to marry me?  You, ma'am—or
  you—anybody!  I'm getting used to it!
        BARONESS.  But let me tell you, ma'am—
        JULIA.  Why, you impudent little hussy—
        LISA.  Oh, here's another—here's another!  (Weeping.)
        PRINCESS.  Poor ladies, I'm very sorry for you all; but,
  you
  see, I've a prior claim.  Come, away we go—there's not a moment
  to be lost!

  CHORUS (as they dance towards exit).

              Away to the wedding we'll go
                    To summon the charioteers,
              No kind of reluctance we show
                    To embark on our married careers—

  (At this moment RUDOLPH, ERNEST, and NOTARY appear.
  All kneel in astonishment.)

  RECITATIVE.

  RUD., Ern., and NOT.
              Forbear!  This may not be!
                    Frustrated are your plans!
              With paramount decree
                    The Law forbids the banns!

        ALL.  The Law forbids the banns!
        LUD.  Not a bit of it!  I've revived the law for another
  century!
        RUD.  You didn't revive it!  You couldn't revive it!
  You—you are an impostor, sir—a tuppenny rogue, sir!  You—you
  never were, and in all human probability never will be—Grand
  Duke of Pfennig Anything!
        ALL.  What!!!
        RUD.  Never—never, never!  (Aside.)  Oh, my internal
  economy!
        LUD.  That's absurd, you know.  I fought the Grand Duke.
  He
  drew a King, and I drew an Ace.  He perished in inconceivable
  agonies on the spot.  Now, as that's settled, we'll go on with
  the wedding.
        RUD.  It—it isn't settled.  You—you can't.  I—I—(to
  NOTARY).  Oh, tell him—tell him!  I can't!
        NOT.  Well, the fact is, there's been a little mistake
  here.
  On reference to the Act that regulates Statutory Duels, I find it
  is expressly laid down that the Ace shall count invariably as
  lowest!
        ALL.  As lowest!
        RUD.  (breathlessly).  As lowest—lowest—lowest!  So
  you're
  the ghoest—ghoest—ghoest!  (Aside.)  Oh, what is the matter
  with me inside here!
        ERN.  Well, Julia, as it seems that the law hasn't been
  revived—and as, consequently, I shall come to life in about
  three minutes—(consulting his watch)—
        JULIA.  My objection falls to the ground. (Resignedly.)
  Very well!
        PRINCESS.  And am I to understand that I was on the point
  of
  marrying a dead man without knowing it?  (To RUDOLPH, who
  revives.)  Oh, my love, what a narrow escape I've had!
        RUD.  Oh—you are the Princess of Monte Carlo, and you've
  turned up just in time!  Well, you're an attractive little girl,
  you know, but you're as poor as a rat!  (They retire up
  together.)
        LISA.  That's all very well, but what is to become of me?
  (To LUDWIG.)  If you're a dead man—(Clock strikes three.)
        LUD.  But I'm not. Time's up—the Act has expired—I've
  come
  to life—the parson is still in attendance, and we'll all be
  married directly.
        ALL.  Hurrah!

                             FINALE.
              Happy couples, lightly treading,
                    Castle chapel will be quite full!
              Each shall have a pretty wedding,
                    As, of course, is only rightful,
                    Though the brides be fair or frightful.
              Contradiction little dreading,
                    This will be a day delightful—
              Each shall have a pretty wedding!
                    Such a pretty, pretty wedding!
              Such a pretty wedding!

  (All dance off to get married as the curtain falls.)
                             THE END





H.M.S. PINAFORE
  OR, THE LASS THAT LOVED A SAILOR

  Libretto by William S. Gilbert

  Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

       THE RT.HON SIR JOSEPH PORTER, K.C.B. (First Lord of the Admiralty).
       CAPTAIN CORCORAN (Commanding H.M.S. Pinafore).
       TOM TUCKER (Midshipmite).
       RALPH RAKESTRAW (Able Seaman).
       DICK DEADEYE (Able Seaman).
       BILL BOBSTAY (Boatswain's Mate).
       BOB BECKET (Carpenter's Mate).
       JOSEPHINE (the Captain's Daughter).
       HEBE (Sir Joseph Porter's First Cousin).
       MRS. CRIPPS (LITTLE BUTTERCUP) (A Portsmouth Bumboat Woman).
       First Lord's Sisters, his Cousins, his Aunts, Sailors, Marines, etc.

             Scene: QUARTER-DECK OF H.M.S. PINAFORE, OFF PORTSMOUTH

                       ACT I.—Noon.     ACT II.—Night

              First produced at the Opera Comique on May 25, 1878.





ACT I
  SCENE—Quarter-deck of H.M.S. Pinafore. Sailors, led by BOATSWAIN,
  discovered cleaning brasswork, splicing rope, etc.

                                 CHORUS

  We sail the ocean blue,
  And our saucy ship's a beauty;
  We're sober men and true,
  And attentive to our duty.
  When the balls whistle free
  O'er the bright blue sea,
  We stand to our guns all day;
  When at anchor we ride
  On the Portsmouth tide,
  We have plenty of time to play.

       Enter LITTLE BUTTERCUP, with large basket on her arm

                              RECITATIVE

       Hail, men-o'-war's men-safeguards of your nation
       Here is an end, at last, of all privation;
       You've got your play—spare all you can afford
       To welcome Little Buttercup on board.

                                ARIA

       For I'm called Little Buttercup—dear Little Buttercup,
          Though I could never tell why,
       But still I'm called Buttercup—poor little Buttercup,
          Sweet Little Buttercup I!

       I've snuff and tobaccy, and excellent jacky,
            I've scissors, and watches, and knives
       I've ribbons and laces to set off the faces
            Of pretty young sweethearts and wives.

       I've treacle and toffee, I've tea and I've coffee,
            Soft tommy and succulent chops;
       I've chickens and conies, and pretty polonies,
            And excellent peppermint drops.

       Then buy of your Buttercup—dear Little Buttercup;
            Sailors should never be shy;
       So, buy of your Buttercup—poor Little Buttercup;
            Come, of your Buttercup buy!

    BOAT. Aye, Little Buttercup—and well called—for you're the
  rosiest,
  the roundest, and the reddest beauty in all Spithead.
    BUT. Red, am I? and round—and rosy! Maybe, for I have
  dissembled well!
  But hark ye, my merry friend—hast ever thought that beneath a
  gay and
  frivolous exterior there may lurk a canker-worm which is slowly
  but
  surely eating its way into one's very heart?

    BOAT. No, my lass, I can't say I've ever thought that.

    Enter DICK DEADEYE. He pushes through sailors, and comes down

    DICK. I have thought it often. (All recoil from him.)
    BUT. Yes, you look like it! What's the matter with the man?
  Isn't he
  well?
    BOAT. Don't take no heed of him; that's only poor Dick Deadeye.
    DICK. I say—it's a beast of a name, ain't it—Dick Deadeye?
    BUT. It's not a nice name.
    DICK. I'm ugly too, ain't I?
    BUT. You are certainly plain.
    DICK. And I'm three-cornered too, ain't I?
    BUT. You are rather triangular.
    DICK. Ha! ha! That's it. I'm ugly, and they hate me for it; for
  you all
  hate me, don't you?
    ALL. We do!
    DICK. There!
    BOAT. Well, Dick, we wouldn't go for to hurt any fellow
  creature's
  feelings, but you can't expect a chap with such a name as Dick
  Deadeye to
  be a popular character—now can you?
    DICK. No.
    BOAT. It's asking too much, ain't it?
    DICK. It is. From such a face and form as mine the noblest
  sentiments
  sound like the black utterances of a depraved imagination It is
  human
  nature—I am resigned.

                              RECITATIVE

    BUT. (looking down hatchway).
        But, tell me—who's the youth whose faltering feet
            With difficulty bear him on his course?
    BOAT. That is the smartest lad in all the fleet—
                           Ralph Rackstraw!
    BUT.  Ha! That name! Remorse! remorse!

                       Enter RALPH from hatchway

                          MADRIGAL—RALPH

                          The Nightingale
                        Sighed for the moon's bright ray
                          And told his tale
                        In his own melodious way!
                        He sang "Ah, well-a-day!"

    ALL.                          He sang "Ah, well-a-day!"
                          The lowly vale
                        For the mountain vainly sighed,
                          To his humble wail
                        The echoing hills replied.
                          They sang "Ah, well-a-day!"

    All.                     They sang "Ah, well-a-day!"

                                 RECITATIVE

  I know the value of a kindly chorus,
       But choruses yield little consolation
         When we have pain and sorrow too before us!
         I love—and love, alas, above my station!

    BUT. (aside). He loves—and loves a lass above his station!
    ALL (aside). Yes, yes, the lass is much above his station!

                                              Exit LITTLE BUTTERCUP

                            BALLAD — RALPH

                        A maiden fair to see,
                        The pearl of minstrelsy,
                          A bud of blushing beauty;
                        For whom proud nobles sigh,
                        And with each other vie
                          To do her menial's duty.
    ALL.                  To do her menial's duty.

                        A suitor, lowly born,
                        With hopeless passion torn,
                          And poor beyond denying,
                        Has dared for her to pine
                        At whose exalted shrine
                          A world of wealth is sighing.
    ALL.                  A world of wealth is sighing.

                        Unlearned he in aught
                        Save that which love has taught
                          (For love had been his tutor);
                        Oh, pity, pity me—
                        Our captain's daughter she,
                          And I that lowly suitor!
    ALL.                  And he that lowly suitor!

    BOAT. Ah, my poor lad, you've climbed too high: our worthy
  captain's
  child won't have nothin' to say to a poor chap like you. Will
  she, lads?
    ALL. No, no.
    DICK. No, no, captains' daughters don't marry foremast hands.
    ALL (recoiling from him). Shame! shame!
    BOAT. Dick Deadeye, them sentiments o' yourn are a disgrace to
  our
  common natur'.
    RALPH, But it's a strange anomaly, that the daughter of a man
  who hails
  from the quarter-deck may not love another who lays out on the
  fore-yard
  arm. For a man is but a man, whether he hoists his flag at the
  main-truck
  or his slacks on the main-deck.
    DICK. Ah, it's a queer world!
    RALPH. Dick Deadeye, I have no desire to press hardly on you,
  but such
  a revolutionary sentiment is enough to make an honest sailor
  shudder.
    BOAT. My lads, our gallant captain has come on deck; let us
  greet him
  as so brave an officer and so gallant a seaman deserves.

                          Enter CAPTAIN CORCORAN

                               RECITATIVE

    CAPT.             My gallant crew, good morning.
    ALL (saluting).        Sir, good morning!
    CAPT.             I hope you're all quite well.
    ALL(as before).        Quite well; and you, sir?
    CAPT.             I am in reasonable health, and happy
                      To meet you all once more.
    ALL (as before).       You do us proud, sir!

                              SONG—CAPTAIN

    CAPT.                  I am the Captain of the Pinafore;
    ALL.                   And a right good captain, tool
                             You're very, very good,
                             And be it understood,
                           I command a right good crew,
    ALL.                     We're very, very good,
                             And be it understood,
                           He commands a right good crew.
    CAPT.                  Though related to a peer,
                           I can hand, reef, and steer,
                             And ship a selvagee;
                           I am never known to quail
                           At the furry of a gale,
                             And I'm never, never sick at sea!
    ALL.                        What, never?
    CAPT.                         No, never!
    ALL.                        What, never?
    CAPT.                         Hardly ever!
    ALL.              He's hardly ever sick at seal
                      Then give three cheers, and one cheer more,
                      For the hardy Captain of the Pinafore!

    CAPT.                  I do my best to satisfy you all—
    ALL.                   And with you we're quite content.
    CAPT.                    You're exceedingly polite,
                             And I think it only right
                           To return the compliment.
    ALL.                     We're exceedingly polite,
                             And he thinks it's only right
                           To return the compliment.
    CAPT.                    Bad language or abuse,
                             I never, never use,
                           Whatever the emergency;
                             Though "Bother it" I may
                             Occasionally say,
                           I never use a big, big D—
    ALL.                        What, never?
    CAPT.                            No, never!
    ALL.                        What, never?
    CAPT.                            Hardly ever!
    ALL.              Hardly ever swears a big, big D—
                      Then give three cheers, and one cheer more,
                      For the well-bred Captain of the Pinafore!
                                 [After song exeunt all but
  CAPTAIN]

  Enter LITTLE BUTTERCUP

  RECITATIVE

    BUT.         Sir, you are sad! The silent eloquence
                 Of yonder tear that trembles on your eyelash
                 Proclaims a sorrow far more deep than common;
                 Confide in me—fear not—I am a mother!

    CAPT.        Yes, Little Buttercup, I'm sad and sorry—
                 My daughter, Josephine, the fairest flower
                 That ever blossomed on ancestral timber,
                 Is sought in marriage by Sir Joseph Porter,
                 Our Admiralty's First Lord, but for some reason
                 She does not seem to tackle kindly to it.

    BUT, (with emotion). Ah, poor Sir Joseph! Ah, I know too well
                 The anguish of a heart that loves but vainly!
                 But see, here comes your most attractive daughter.
                 I go—Farewell!
  [Exit.

    CAPT. (looking after her). A plump and pleasing person!
  [Exit.

    Enter JOSEPHINE, twining some flowers which she carries in a
  small
    basket

  BALLAD JOSEPHINE

            Sorry her lot who loves too well,
               Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,
            Sad are the sighs that own the spell,
               Uttered by eyes that speak too plainly;
                 Heavy the sorrow that bows the head
                 When love is alive and hope is dead!

            Sad is the hour when sets the sun—
               Dark is the night to earth's poor daughters,
            When to the ark the wearied one
               Flies from the empty waste of waters!
                 Heavy the sorrow that bows the head
                 When love is alive and hope is dead!

  Enter CAPTAIN

    CAPT. My child, I grieve to see that you are a prey to
  melancholy. You
  should look your best to-day, for Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B., will
  be here
  this afternoon to claim your promised hand.
    JOS. Ah, father, your words cut me to the quick. I can esteem—
  reverence—venerate Sir Joseph, for he is a great and good man;
  but oh, I
  cannot love him! My heart is already given.
    CAPT. (aside). It is then as I feared. (Aloud.) Given? And to
  whom? Not
  to some gilded lordling?
    JOS. No, father—the object of my love is no lordling. Oh, pity
  me, for
  he is but a humble sailor on board your own ship!
    CAPT. Impossible!
    JOS. Yes, it is true.
    CAPT. A common sailor? Oh fie!
    JOS. I blush for the weakness that allows me to cherish such a
  passion.
  I hate myself when I think of the depth to which I have stooped
  in
  permitting myself to think tenderly of one so ignobly born, but I
  love
  him! I love him! I love him! (Weeps.)
    CAPT. Come, my child, let us talk this over. In a matter of the
  heart I
  would not coerce my daughter—I attach but little value to rank
  or
  wealth, but the line must be drawn somewhere. A man in that
  station may
  be brave and worthy, but at every step he would commit solecisms
  that
  society would never pardon.
    JOS. Oh, I have thought of this night and day. But fear not,
  father, I
  have a heart, and therefore I love; but I am your daughter, and
  therefore
  I am proud. Though I carry my love with me to the tomb, he shall
  never,
  never know it.
    CAPT. You are my daughter after all. But see, Sir Joseph's
  barge
  approaches, manned by twelve trusty oarsmen and accompanied by
  the
  admiring crowd of sisters, cousins, and aunts that attend him
  wherever he
  goes. Retire, my daughter, to your cabin—take this, his
  photograph, with
  you—it may help to bring you to a more reasonable frame of mind.
    JOS. My own thoughtful father!

    [Exit JOSEPHINE. CAPTAIN remains and ascends the poop-deck.

  BARCAROLLE. (invisible)

                      Over the bright blue sea
                    Comes Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B.,
                      Wherever he may go
                    Bang-bang the loud nine-pounders go!
                      Shout o'er the bright blue sea
                    For Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B.

     [During this the Crew have entered on tiptoe, listening
  attentive to
     the song.

  CHORUS OF SAILORS

            Sir Joseph's barge is seen,
                 And its crowd of blushing beauties,
            We hope he'll find us clean,
                 And attentive to our duties.
            We sail, we sail the ocean blue,
                 And our saucy ship's a beauty.
            We're sober, sober men and true
                 And attentive to our duty.
            We're smart and sober men,
                 And quite devoid of fe-ar,
            In all the Royal N.
                 None are so smart as we are.

  Enter SIR JOSEPH'S FEMALE RELATIVES

  (They dance round stage)

    REL.         Gaily tripping,
                 Lightly skipping,
               Flock the maidens to the shipping.
    SAILORS.   Flags and guns and pennants dipping!
               All the ladies love the shipping.
    REL.         Sailors sprightly
                 Always rightly
               Welcome ladies so politely.
    SAILORS.   Ladies who can smile so brightly,
               Sailors welcome most politely.
    CAPT. (from poop). Now give three cheers, I'll lead the way
    ALL.              Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! hurray!

  Enter SIR JOSEPH with COUSIN HEBE

  SONG—SIR JOSEPH

                        I am the monarch of the sea,
                        The ruler of the Queen's Navee,
                      Whose praise Great Britain loudly chants.
    COUSIN HEBE.  And we are his sisters, and his cousins and his
  aunts!
    REL.          And we are his sisters, and his cousins, and his
  aunts!
    SIR JOSEPH.         When at anchor here I ride,
                             My bosom swells with pride,
                           And I snap my fingers at a foeman's
  taunts;
    COUSIN HEBE.  And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his
  aunts!
    ALL.          And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his
  aunts!
    SIR JOSEPH.         But when the breezes blow,
                        I generally go below,
                      And seek the seclusion that a cabin grants;
    COUSIN HEBE.  And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his
  aunts!
    ALL.          And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his
  aunts!
                      His sisters and his cousins,
                      Whom he reckons up by dozens,
                        And his aunts!

  SONG — SIR JOSEPH

            When I was a lad I served a term
            As office boy to an Attorney's firm.
            I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor,
            And I polished up the handle of the big front door.
                 I polished up that handle so carefullee
                 That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!

  CHORUS.—He polished, etc.

            As office boy I made such a mark
            That they gave me the post of a junior clerk.
            I served the writs with a smile so bland,
            And I copied all the letters in a big round hand—
                 I copied all the letters in a hand so free,
                 That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!

  CHORUS.- He copied, etc.

            In serving writs I made such a name
            That an articled clerk I soon became;
            I wore clean collars and a brand-new suit
            For the pass examination at the Institute,
                 And that pass examination did so well for me,
                 That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!

  CHORUS.—And that pass examination, etc.

            Of legal knowledge I acquired such a grip
            That they took me into the partnership.
            And that junior partnership, I ween,
            Was the only ship that I ever had seen.
                 But that kind of ship so suited me,
                 That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!

  CHORUS.- But that kind, etc.

            I grew so rich that I was sent
            By a pocket borough into Parliament.
            I always voted at my party's call,
            And I never thought of thinking for myself at all.
                 I thought so little, they rewarded me
                 By making me the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!

  CHORUS.- He thought so little, etc.

            Now landsmen all, whoever you may be,
            If you want to rise to the top of the tree,
            If your soul isn't fettered to an office stool,
            Be careful to be guided by this golden rule—
                 Stick close to your desks and never go to sea,
                 And you all may be rulers of the Queen's Navee!

  CHORUS.—Stick close, etc.

    SIR JOSEPH. You've a remarkably fine crew, Captain Corcoran.
    CAPT. It is a fine crew, Sir Joseph.
    SIR JOSEPH. (examining a very small midshipman). A British
  sailor is a
  splendid fellow, Captain Corcoran.
    CAPT. A splendid fellow indeed, Sir Joseph.
    SIR JOSEPH. I hope you treat your crew kindly, Captain
  Corcoran.
    CAPT. Indeed I hope so, Sir Joseph.
    SIR JOSEPH, Never forget that they are the bulwarks of
  England's
  greatness, Captain Corcoran.
    CAPT. So I have always considered them, Sir Joseph.
    SIR JOSEPH. No bullying, I trust—no strong language of any
  kind, eh?
    CAPT. Oh, never, Sir Joseph.
    SIR JOSEPH. What, never?
    CAPT. Hardly ever, Sir Joseph. They are an excellent crew, and
  do their
  work thoroughly without it.
    SIR JOSEPH. Don't patronise them, sir—pray, don't patronise
  them.
    CAPT. Certainly not, Sir Joseph.
    SIR JOSEPH. That you are their captain is an accident of birth.
  I
  cannot permit these noble fellows to be patronised because an
  accident of
  birth has placed you above them and them below you.
    CAPT. I am the last person to insult a British sailor, Sir
  Joseph.
    SIR JOSEPH. You are the last person who did, Captain Corcoran.
  Desire
  that splendid seaman to step forward.

                            (DICK comes forward)

    SIR JOSEPH. No, no, the other splendid seaman.
    CAPT. Ralph Rackstraw, three paces to the front—march!
    SIR JOSEPH (sternly). If what?
    CAPT. I beg your pardon—I don't think I understand you.
    SIR JOSEPH. If you please.
    CAPT. Oh, yes, of course. If you please. (RALPH steps forward.)
    SIR JOSEPH. You're a remarkably fine fellow.
    RALPH. Yes, your honour.
    SIR JOSEPH.  And a first-rate seaman, I'll be bound.
    RALPH. There's not a smarter topman in the Navy, your honour,
  though I
  say it who shouldn't.
    SIR JOSEPH. Not at all. Proper self-respect, nothing more. Can
  you
  dance a hornpipe?
    RALPH. No, your honour.
    SIR JOSEPH. That's a pity: all sailors should dance hornpipes.
  I will
  teach you one this evening, after dinner. Now tell me—don't be
  afraid—
  how does your captain treat you, eh?
    RALPH. A better captain don't walk the deck, your honour.
    ALL. Aye; Aye!
    SIR JOSEPH. Good. I like to hear you speak well of your
  commanding
  officer; I daresay he don't deserve it, but still it does you
  credit. Can
  you sing?
    RALPH. I can hum a little, your honour.
    SIR JOSEPH. Then hum this at your leisure. (Giving him MS.
  music.) It
  is a song that I have composed for the use of the Royal Navy. It
  is
  designed to encourage independence of thought and action in the
  lower
  branches of the service, and to teach the principle that a
  British sailor
  is any man's equal, excepting mine. Now, Captain Corcoran, a word
  with
  you in your cabin, on a tender and sentimental subject.
    CAPT. Aye, aye,
    Sir Joseph (Crossing) Boatswain, in commemoration of this
  joyous
  occasion, see that extra grog is served out to the ship's company
  at
  seven bells.
    BOAT. Beg pardon. If what, your honour?
    CAPT. If what? I don't think I understand you.
    BOAT. If you please, your honour.
    CAPT. What!
    SIR JOSEPH. The gentleman is quite right. If you please.
    CAPT. (stamping his foot impatiently). If you please!
  [Exit.
    SIR JOSEPH.  For I hold that on the seas
                 The expression, "if you please",
                      A particularly gentlemanly tone implants.
    COUSIN HEBE. And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his
  aunts!
    ALL.       And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his
  aunts!

                                           [Exeunt SIR JOSEPH AND
  RELATIVES.

    BOAT. Ah! Sir Joseph's true gentleman; courteous and
  considerate to the
  very humblest.
    RALPH. True, Boatswain, but we are not the very humblest. Sir
  Joseph
  has explained our true position to us. As he says, a British
  seaman is
  any man's equal excepting his, and if Sir Joseph says that, is it
  not our
  duty to believe him?
    ALL. Well spoke! well spoke!
    DICK. You're on a wrong tack, and so is he. He means well, but
  he don't
  know. When people have to obey other people's orders, equality's
  out of
  the question.
    ALL (recoiling). Horrible! horrible!
    BOAT. Dick Deadeye, if you go for to infuriate this here ship's
  company
  too far, I won't answer for being able to hold 'em in. I'm
  shocked!
  that's what I am—shocked!
    RALPH. Messmates, my mind's made up. I'll speak to the
  captain's
  daughter, and tell her, like an honest man, of the honest love I
  have for
  her.
    ALL. Aye, aye!
    RALPH. Is not my love as good as another's? Is not my heart as
  true as
  another's? Have I not hands and eyes and ears and limbs like
  another?
    ALL. Aye, Aye!
    RALPH. True, I lack birth—
    BOAT. You've a berth on board this very ship.
    RALPH. Well said—I had forgotten that. Messmates—what do you
  say? Do
  you approve my determination?
    ALL. We do.
    DICK. I don t.
    BOAT. What is to be done with this here hopeless chap? Let us
  sing him
  the song that Sir Joseph has kindly composed for us. Perhaps it
  will
  bring this here miserable creetur to a proper state of mind.

           GLEE!—RALPH, BOATSWAIN, BOATSWAIN'S MATE, and CHORUS

               A British tar is a soaring soul,
                  As free as a mountain bird,
               His energetic fist should be ready to resist
                  A dictatorial word.
               His nose should pant and his lip should curl,
               His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl,
               His bosom should heave and his heart should glow,
               And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.

  CHORUS.—His nose should pant, etc.

               His eyes should flash with an inborn fire,
                  His brow with scorn be wrung;
               He never should bow down to a domineering frown,
                  Or the tang of a tyrant tongue.
               His foot should stamp and his throat should growl,
               His hair should twirl and his face should scowl;
               His eyes should flash and his breast protrude,
               And this should be his customary attitude—(pose).

  CHORUS.—His foot should stamp, etc.

  [All dance off excepting RALPH, who remains, leaning pensively
  against
  bulwark.

                          Enter JOSEPHINE from cabin

    JOS. It is useless—Sir Joseph's attentions nauseate me. I know
  that he
  is a truly great and good man, for he told me so himself, but to
  me he
  seems tedious, fretful, and dictatorial. Yet his must be a mind
  of no
  common order, or he would not dare to teach my dear father to
  dance a
  hornpipe on the cabin table. (Sees RALPH.) Ralph Rackstraw!
  (Overcome by
  emotion.)
    RALPH. Aye, lady—no other than poor Ralph Rackstraw!
    JOS. (aside). How my heart beats! (Aloud) And why poor, Ralph?
    RALPH. I am poor in the essence of happiness, lady—rich only
  in never-
  ending unrest. In me there meet a combination of antithetical
  elements
  which are at eternal war with one another. Driven hither by
  objective
  influences—thither by subjective emotions—wafted one moment
  into
  blazing day, by mocking hope—plunged the next into the Cimmerian
  darkness of tangible despair, I am but a living ganglion of
  irreconcilable antagonisms. I hope I make myself clear, lady?
    JOS. Perfectly. (Aside.) His simple eloquence goes to my heart.
  Oh, if
  I dared—but no, the thought is madness! (Aloud.) Dismiss these
  foolish
  fancies, they torture you but needlessly. Come, make one effort.
    RALPH (aside). I will—one. (Aloud.) Josephine!
    JOS. (Indignantly). Sir!
    RALPH. Aye, even though Jove's armoury were launched at the
  head of the
  audacious mortal whose lips, unhallowed by relationship, dared to
  breathe
  that precious word, yet would I breathe it once, and then
  perchance be
  silent evermore. Josephine, in one brief breath I will
  concentrate the
  hopes, the doubts, the anxious fears of six weary months.
  Josephine, I am
  a British sailor, and I love you!
    JOS. Sir, this audacity! (Aside.) Oh, my heart, my beating
  heart!
  (Aloud.) This unwarrantable presumption on the part of a common
  sailor!
  (Aside.) Common! oh, the irony of the word! (Crossing, aloud.)
  Oh, sir,
  you forget the disparity in our ranks.
    RALPH. I forget nothing, haughty lady. I love you desperately,
  my life
  is in your hand—I lay it at your feet! Give me hope, and what I
  lack in
  education and polite accomplishments, that I will endeavour to
  acquire.
  Drive me to despair, and in death alone I shall look for
  consolation. I
  am proud and cannot stoop to implore. I have spoken and I wait
  your word.
    JOS. You shall not wait long. Your proffered love I haughtily
  reject.
  Go, sir, and learn to cast your eyes on some village maiden in
  your own
  poor rank—they should be lowered before your captain's daughter.

                         DUET—JOSEPHINE and RALPH

    JOS.              Refrain, audacious tar,
                        Your suit from pressing,
                      Remember what you are,
                        And whom addressing!
    (Aside.)          I'd laugh my rank to scorn
                        In union holy,
                      Were he more highly born
                        Or I more lowly!
    RALPH.            Proud lady, have your way,
                        Unfeeling beauty!
                      You speak and I obey,
                        It is my duty!
                      I am the lowliest tar
                        That sails the water,
                      And you, proud maiden, are
                        My captain's daughter!
    (Aside.)          My heart with anguish torn
                        Bows down before her,
                      She laughs my love to scorn,
                        Yet I adore her!

    [Repeat refrain, ensemble, then exit JOSEPHINE into cabin.

    RALPH. (Recit.)   Can I survive this overbearing
                        Or live a life of mad despairing,
                        My proffered love despised, rejected?
                        No, no, it's not to be expected!
                                (Calling off.)
                       Messmates, ahoy!
                           Come here! Come here!

                      Enter SAILORS, HEBE, and RELATIVES

    ALL.                        Aye, aye, my boy,
                                What cheer, what cheer?
                                  Now tell us, pray,
                                  Without delay,
                                  What does she say—
                                What cheer, what cheer?

    RALPH (to COUSIN HEBE). The maiden treats my suit with scorn,
                            Rejects my humble gift, my lady;
                           She says I am ignobly born,
                            And cuts my hopes adrift, my lady.
    ALL.                          Oh, cruel one.

    DICK.             She spurns your suit? Oho! Oho!
                      I told you so, I told you so.

    SAILORS and RELATIVES.
                      Shall { we } submit? Are { we } but slaves?
                             they               they
                        Love comes alike to high and low—
                      Britannia's sailors rule the waves,
                        And shall they stoop to insult? No!

    DICK.             You must submit, you are but slaves;
                        A lady she! Oho! Oho!
                      You lowly toilers of the waves,
                        She spurns you all—I told you so!

    RALPH.            My friends, my leave of life I'm taking,
                      For oh, my heart, my heart is breaking.
                      When I am gone, oh, prithee tell
                      The maid that, as I died, I loved her well!

    ALL (turning away, weeping).  Of life, alas! his leave he's
  taking,
            For ah! his faithful heart is breaking;
            When he is gone we'll surely tell
            The maid that, as he died, he loved her well.

  [During Chorus BOATSWAIN has loaded pistol, which he hands to
  RALPH.

    RALPH.            Be warned, my messmates all
                        Who love in rank above you—
                      For Josephine I fall!

          [Puts pistol to his head. All the sailors stop their
  ears.

                          Enter JOSEPHINE on deck

       JOS.                Ah! stay your hand—I love you!
       ALL.                Ah! stay your hand—she loves you!
       RALPH. (incredulously). Loves me?
       JOS.                                Loves you!
       ALL.                Yes, yes—ah, yes,—she loves you!

                                 ENSEMBLE

                    SAILORS and RELATIVES and JOSEPHINE

                           Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen,
                           For now the sky is all serene;
                           The god of day—the orb of love—
                           Has hung his ensign high above,
                                The sky is all ablaze.

                           With wooing words and loving song,
                           We'll chase the lagging hours along,
                           And if {I find  } the maiden coy,
                                   we find
                           I'll } murmur forth decorous joy
                           We'll
                                In dreamy roundelays!

                                     DICK DEADEYE

                           He thinks he's won his Josephine,
                           But though the sky is now serene,
                           A frowning thunderbolt above
                           May end their ill-assorted love
                                Which now is all ablaze.

                           Our captain, ere the day is gone,
                           Will be extremely down upon
                           The wicked men who art employ
                           To make his Josephine less coy
                                In many various ways.    [Exit
  DICK.

    JOS.                   This very night,
    HEBE.                  With bated breath
    RALPH.                 And muffled oar—
    JOS.                   Without a light,
    HEBE.                  As still as death,
    RALPH.                 We'll steal ashore
    JOS.                   A clergyman
    RALPH.                 Shall make us one
    BOAT,                  At half-past ten,
    JOS.                   And then we can
    RALPH                  Return, for none
    BOAT.                  Can part them then!
    ALL.                   This very night, etc.

                        (DICK appears at hatchway.)

  DICK.   Forbear, nor carry out the scheme you've planned;
          She is a lady—you a foremast hand!
          Remember, she's your gallant captain's daughter,
          And you the meanest slave that crawls the water!
  ALL.                     Back, vermin, back,
                             Nor mock us!
                           Back, vermin, back,
                             You shock us!
                                                        [Exit DICK

          Let's give three cheers for the sailor's bride
          Who casts all thought of rank aside—
          Who gives up home and fortune too
          For the honest love of a sailor true!
                 For a British tar is a soaring soul
                   As free as a mountain bird!
                 His energetic fist should be ready to resist
                   A dictatorial word!
          His foot should stamp and his throat should growl,
          His hair should twirl and his face should scowl,
          His eyes should flash and his breast protrude,
          And this should be his customary attitude—(pose).

                             GENERAL DANCE

                             END OF ACT I





ACT II
    Same Scene. Night. Awning removed. Moonlight. CAPTAIN
  discovered
       singing on poop deck, and accompanying himself on a
  mandolin. LITTLE
       BUTTERCUP seated on quarterdeck, gazing sentimentally at
  him.

                            SONG—CAPTAIN

                      Fair moon, to thee I sing,
                        Bright regent of the heavens,
                      Say, why is everything
                        Either at sixes or at sevens?
                      I have lived hitherto
                        Free from breath of slander,
                      Beloved by all my crew—
                        A really popular commander.
                      But now my kindly crew rebel,
                        My daughter to a tar is partial,
                      Sir Joseph storms, and, sad to tell,
                        He threatens a court martial!
                         Fair moon, to thee I sing,
                           Bright regent of the heavens,
                         Say, why is everything
                           Either at sixes or at sevens?

        BUT. How sweetly he carols forth his melody to the
  unconscious
  moon! Of whom is he thinking? Of some high-born beauty? It may
  be! Who is
  poor Little Buttercup that she should expect his glance to fall
  on one so
  lowly! And yet if he knew—if he only knew!
        CAPT. (coming down). Ah! Little Buttercup, still on board?
  That is
  not quite right, little one. It would have been more respectable
  to have
  gone on shore at dusk.
        BUT, True, dear Captain—but the recollection of your sad
  pale
  face seemed to chain me to the ship. I would fain see you smile
  before I
  go.
        CAPT. Ah! Little Buttercup, I fear it will be long before I
  recover my accustomed cheerfulness, for misfortunes crowd upon
  me, and
  all my old friends seem to have turned against me!
        BUT, Oh no—do not say "all", dear Captain. That were
  unjust to
  one, at least.
        CAPT. True, for you are staunch to me. (Aside.) If ever I
  gave my
  heart again, methinks it would be to such a one as this! (Aloud.)
  I am
  touched to the heart by your innocent regard for me, and were we
  differently situated, I think I could have returned it. But as it
  is, I
  fear I can never be more to you than a friend.
        BUT, I understand! You hold aloof from me because you are
  rich and
  lofty—and I poor and lowly. But take care! The poor bumboat
  woman has
  gipsy blood in her veins, and she can read destinies.
        CAPT. Destinies?
        BUT. There is a change in store for you!
        CAPT. A change?
        BUT. Aye—be prepared!

                     DUET—LITTLE BUTTERCUP and CAPTAIN

    BUT,         Things are seldom what they seem,
                 Skim milk masquerades as cream;
                 Highlows pass as patent leathers;
                 Jackdaws strut in peacock's feathers.
    CAPT. (puzzled). Very true,
                     So they do.
    BUT.         Black sheep dwell in every fold;
                 All that glitters is not gold;
                 Storks turn out to be but logs;
                   Bulls are but inflated frogs.
    CAPT. (puzzled).  So they be,
                      Frequentlee.
    BUT.         Drops the wind and stops the mill;
                 Turbot is ambitious brill;
                 Gild the farthing if you will,
                 Yet it is a farthing still.
    CAPT. (puzzled). Yes, I know.
                     That is so.
                 Though to catch your drift I'm striving,
                   It is shady—it is shady;
                 I don't see at what you're driving,
                   Mystic lady—mystic lady.
    (Aside.)     Stern conviction's o'er me stealing,
                 That the mystic lady's dealing
                 In oracular revealing.
    BUT. (aside).Stern conviction's o'er him stealing,
                 That the mystic lady's dealing
                 In oracular revealing.
                         Yes, I know—
                         That is so!
    CAPT.        Though I'm anything but clever,
                 I could talk like that for ever:
                 Once a cat was killed by care;
                 Only brave deserve the fair.
                         Very true,
                         So they do.
    CAPT.        Wink is often good as nod;
                 Spoils the child who spares the rod;
                 Thirsty lambs run foxy dangers;
                 Dogs are found in many mangers.
    BUT.                 Frequentlee,
                         I agree.
                 Paw of cat the chestnut snatches;
                 Worn-out garments show new patches;
                 Only count the chick that hatches;
                 Men are grown-up catchy-catchies.
    BUT.                 Yes, I know,
                         That is so.
    (Aside.)     Though to catch my drift he's striving,
                   I'll dissemble—I'll dissemble;
                 When he sees at what I'm driving,
                   Let him tremble—let him tremble!

                               ENSEMBLE

                 Though a mystic tone { I } borrow,
                                       you
                 You will } learn the truth with sorrow,
                 I shall
                 Here to-day and gone to-morrow;
                    Yes, I know—
              That is so!
                       [At the end exit LITTLE BUTTERCUP
  melodramatically.

    CAPT. Incomprehensible as her utterances are, I nevertheless
  feel that
  they are dictated by a sincere regard for me. But to what new
  misery is
  she referring? Time alone can tell!

                              Enter SIR JOSEPH

    SIR JOSEPH. Captain Corcoran, I am much disappointed with your
  daughter. In fact, I don't think she will do.
    CAPT. She won't do, Sir Joseph!
    SIR JOSEPH. I'm afraid not. The fact is, that although I have
  urged my
  suit with as much eloquence as is consistent with an official
  utterance,
  I have done so hitherto without success. How do you account for
  this?
    CAPT. Really, Sir Joseph, I hardly know. Josephine is of course
  sensible of your condescension.
    SIR JOSEPH. She naturally would be.
    CAPT. But perhaps your exalted rank dazzles her.
    SIR JOSEPH. You think it does?
    CAPT. I can hardly say; but she is a modest girl, and her
  social
  position is far below your own. It may be that she feels she is
  not
  worthy of you.
    SIR JOSEPH. That is really a very sensible suggestion, and
  displays
  more knowledge of human nature than I had given you credit for.
    CAPT. See, she comes. If your lordship would kindly reason with
  her and
  assure her officially that it is a standing rule at the Admiralty
  that
  love levels all ranks, her respect for an official utterance
  might induce
  her to look upon your offer in its proper light.
    SIR JOSEPH. It is not unlikely. I will adopt your suggestion.
  But soft,
  she is here. Let us withdraw, and watch our opportunity.

          Enter JOSEPHINE from cabin. FIRST LORD and CAPTAIN retire

                            SCENE—JOSEPHINE

                      The hours creep on apace,
                        My guilty heart is quaking!
                      Oh, that I might retrace
                        The step that I am taking!
                 Its folly it were easy to be showing,
                 What I am giving up and whither going.
                 On the one hand, papa's luxurious home,
                   Hung with ancestral armour and old brasses,
                 Carved oak and tapestry from distant Rome,
                   Rare "blue and white" Venetian finger-glasses,
                 Rich oriental rugs, luxurious sofa pillows,
                 And everything that isn't old, from Gillow's.
                 And on the other, a dark and dingy room,
                   In some back street with stuffy children crying,
                 Where organs yell, and clacking housewives fume,
                   And clothes are hanging out all day a-drying.
                 With one cracked looking-glass to see your face
  in,
                 And dinner served up in a pudding basin!

                      A simple sailor, lowly born,
                           Unlettered and unknown,
                      Who toils for bread from early mom
                           Till half the night has flown!
                      No golden rank can he impart—
                           No wealth of house or land—
                      No fortune save his trusty heart
                           And honest brown right hand!
                           And yet he is so wondrous fair
                           That love for one so passing rare,
                           So peerless in his manly beauty,
                           Were little else than solemn duty!
                 Oh, god of love, and god of reason, say,
                 Which of you twain shall my poor heart obey!

                        SIR JOSEPH and CAPTAIN enter

    SIR JOSEPH. Madam, it has been represented to me that you are
  appalled
  by my exalted rank. I desire to convey to you officially my
  assurance,
  that if your hesitation is attributable to that circumstance, it
  is
  uncalled for.
    JOS. Oh! then your lordship is of opinion that married
  happiness is not
  inconsistent with discrepancy in rank?
    SIR JOSEPH. I am officially of that opinion.
    JOS. That the high and the lowly may be truly happy together,
  provided
  that they truly love one another?
    SIR JOSEPH. Madam, I desire to convey to you officially my
  opinion that
  love is a platform upon which all ranks meet.
    JOS. I thank you, Sir Joseph. I did hesitate, but I will
  hesitate no
  longer. (Aside.) He little thinks how eloquently he has pleaded
  his
  rival's cause!

                                   TRIO

                    FIRST LORD, CAPTAIN, and JOSEPHINE

  CAPT.          Never mind the why and wherefore,
                 Love can level ranks, and therefore,
                 Though his lordship's station's mighty,
                   Though stupendous be his brain,
                 Though your tastes are mean and flighty
                   And your fortune poor and plain,
  CAPT. and      Ring the merry bells on board-ship,
  SIR JOSEPH.    Rend the air with warbling wild,
                 For the union of { his } lordship
                                    my
                 With a humble captain's child!
  CAPT.          For a humble captain's daughter—
  JOS.           For a gallant captain's daughter—
  SIR JOSEPH.    And a lord who rules the water—
  JOS. (aside).  And a tar who ploughs the water!
  ALL.           Let the air with joy be laden,
                   Rend with songs the air above,
                 For the union of a maiden
                   With the man who owns her love!
  SIR JOSEPH.    Never mind the why and wherefore,
                 Love can level ranks, and therefore,
                 Though your nautical relation (alluding to CAPT.)
                   In my set could scarcely pass—
                 Though you occupy a station
                   In the lower middle class—
  CAPT. and      Ring the merry bells on board-ship,
  SIR JOSEPH     Rend the air with warbling wild,
                 For the union of { my } lordship
                                   your
                 With a humble captain's child!
  CAPT.          For a humble captain's daughter—
  JOS.           For a gallant captain's daughter—
  SIR JOSEPH.    And a lord who rules the water—
  JOS. (aside).  And a tar who ploughs the water!
  ALL.           Let the air with joy be laden,
                 Rend with songs the air above,
                 For the union of a maiden
                 With the man who owns her love!

  JOS.           Never mind the why and wherefore,
                 Love can level ranks, and therefore
                 I admit the jurisdiction;
                      Ably have you played your part;
                 You have carried firm conviction
                      To my hesitating heart.
  CAPT. and      Ring the merry bells on board-ship,
  SIR JOSEPH.    Rend the air with warbling wild,
                 For the union of { my } lordship
                                    his
                 With a humble captain's child!
    CAPT.         For a humble captain's daughter—
    JOS.          For a gallant captain's daughter—
    SIR JOSEPH.   And a lord who rules the water—
    JOS. (aside). And a tar who ploughs the water!
    (Aloud.)      Let the air with joy be laden.
    CAPT. and SIR JOSEPH. Ring the merry bells on board-ship—
    JOS.         For the union of a maiden—
    CAPT. and SIR JOSEPH. For her union with his lordship.
    ALL.         Rend with songs the air above
                 For the man who owns her love!

                                                         [Exit JOS.
    CAPT. Sir Joseph, I cannot express to you my delight at the
  happy
  result of your eloquence. Your argument was unanswerable.
    SIR JOSEPH. Captain Corcoran, it is one of the happiest
  characteristics
  of this glorious country that official utterances are invariably
  regarded
  as unanswerable.                                        [Exit SIR
  JOSEPH.
    CAPT. At last my fond hopes are to be crowned. My only daughter
  is to
  be the bride of a Cabinet Minister. The prospect is Elysian.
  (During this
  speech DICK DEADEYE has entered.)
    DICK. Captain.
    CAPT. Deadeye! You here? Don't! (Recoiling from him.)
    DICK. Ah, don't shrink from me, Captain. I'm unpleasant to look
  at, and
  my name's agin me, but I ain't as bad as I seem.
    CAPT. What would you with me?
    DICK (mysteriously). I'm come to give you warning.
    CAPT. Indeed! do you propose to leave the Navy then?
    DICK. No, no, you misunderstand me; listen!

                                     DUET
                            CAPTAIN and DICK DEADEYE

    DICK.        Kind Captain, I've important information,
                         Sing hey, the kind commander that you are,
                 About a certain intimate relation,
                    Sing hey, the merry maiden and the tar.
    BOTH.        The merry maiden and the tar.

    CAPT.        Good fellow, in conundrums you are speaking,
                    Sing hey, the mystic sailor that you are;
                 The answer to them vainly I am seeking;
                    Sing hey, the merry maiden and the tar.
    BOTH              The merry maiden and the tar.

    DICK.        Kind Captain, your young lady is a-sighing,
                    Sing hey, the simple captain that you are,
                 This very might with Rackstraw to be flying;
                    Sing hey, the merry maiden and the tar.
    BOTH.                  The merry maiden and the tar.

    CAPT.        Good fellow, you have given timely warning,
                    Sing hey, the thoughtful sailor that you are,
                 I'll talk to Master Rackstraw in the morning:
                    Sing hey, the cat-o'-nine-tails and the tar.
                                                    (Producing a
  "cat".)

    BOTH.        The merry cat-o'-nine-tails and the tar!

    CAPT. Dick Deadeye—I thank you for your warning—I will at
  once take
  means to arrest their flight. This boat cloak will afford me
  ample
  disguise—So! (Envelops himself in a mysterious cloak, holding it
  before
  his face.)
    DICK. Ha, ha! They are foiled—foiled—foiled!

    Enter Crew on tiptoe, with RALPH and BOATSWAIN meeting
  JOSEPHINE, who
       enters from cabin on tiptoe, with bundle of necessaries, and
       accompanied by LITTLE BUTTERCUP.

                                  ENSEMBLE

                      Carefully on tiptoe stealing,
                        Breathing gently as we may,
                      Every step with caution feeling,
                        We will softly steal away.

                          (CAPTAIN stamps)—Chord.

    ALL (much alarmed). Goodness me—
                             Why, what was that?
    DICK.                Silent be,
                             It was the cat!
    ALL. (reassured).    It was—it was the cat!
    CAPT. (producing cat-o'-nine-tails). They're right, it was the
  cat!

    ALL.                 Pull ashore, in fashion steady,
                           Hymen will defray the fare,
                         For a clergyman is ready
                           To unite the happy pair!

                     (Stamp as before, and Chord.)

    ALL.                 Goodness me,
                           Why, what was that?
    DICK.                Silent be,
                           Again the cat!
    ALL.                 It was again that cat!
    CAPT. (aside).       They're right, it was the cat!
    CAPT. (throwing off cloak). Hold! (All start.)
                           Pretty daughter of mine,
                             I insist upon knowing
                             Where you may be going
                           With these sons of the brine,
                             For my excellent crew,
                           Though foes they could thump any,
                           Are scarcely fit company,
                             My daughter, for you.
    CREW.                    Now, hark at that, do!
                           Though foes we could thump any,
                           We are scarcely fit company
                             For a lady like you!

    RALPH.               Proud officer, that haughty lip uncurl!
                 Vain man, suppress that supercilious sneer,
            For I have dared to love your matchless girl,
               A fact well known to all my messmates here!

    CAPT.             Oh, horror!

    RALPH and Jos. { I } humble, poor, and lowly born,
                    He
                The meanest in the port division—
                   The butt of epauletted scorn—
                The mark of quarter-deck derision—
                Have } dare to raise { my } wormy eyes
                Has                   his
                Above the dust to which you'd mould { me
                                                      him
               In manhood's glorious pride to rise,
               I am } an Englishman—behold { me
               He is                         him

    ALL.         He is an Englishman!
    BOAT.        He is an Englishman!
                   For he himself has said it,
                   And it's greatly to his credit,
                 That he is an Englishman!

    ALL.         That he is an Englishman!
    BOAT.        For he might have been a Roosian,
                 A French, or Turk, or Proosian,
                 Or perhaps Itali-an!

    ALL.         Or perhaps Itali-an!
    BOAT.        But in spite of all temptations
                 To belong to other nations,
                   He remains an Englishman!

    ALL.         For in spite of all temptations, etc.

    CAPT. (trying to repress his anger).
                  In uttering a reprobation
                    To any British tar,
                  I try to speak with moderation,
                    But you have gone too far.
                  I'm very sorry to disparage
                    A humble foremast lad,
                  But to seek your captain's child in marriage,
                    Why damme, it's too bad

       [During this, COUSIN HEBE and FEMALE RELATIVES have entered.

        ALL (shocked). Oh!
        CAPT.          Yes, damme, it's too bad!
        ALL.                 Oh!
        CAPT. and DICK DEADEYE. Yes, damme, it s too bad.

       [During this, SIR JOSEPH has appeared on poop-deck. He is
  horrified
            at the bad language.

    HEBE.             Did you hear him? Did you hear him?
                        Oh, the monster overbearing!
                      Don't go near him—don't go near him—
                        He is swearing—he is swearing!
    SIR JOSEPH.       My pain and my distress,
                        I find it is not easy to express;
                        My amazement—my surprise—
                      You may learn from the expression of my eyes!
    CAPT.             My lord—one word—the facts are not before
  you
                        The word was injudicious, I allow—
                      But hear my explanation, I implore you,
                        And you will be indignant too, I vow!
    SIR JOSEPH.       I will hear of no defence,
                        Attempt none if you're sensible.
                      That word of evil sense
                        Is wholly indefensible.
                      Go, ribald, get you hence
                        To your cabin with celerity.
                      This is the consequence
                        Of ill-advised asperity

                           [Exit CAPTAIN, disgraced, followed by
  JOSEPHINE

    ALL.              This is the consequence,
                        Of ill-advised asperity!
    SIR JOSEPH.       For I'll teach you all, ere long,
                        To refrain from language strong
                      For I haven't any sympathy for ill-bred
  taunts!
    HEBE.             No more have his sisters, nor his cousins,
  nor his
                           aunts.
    ALL.              For he is an Englishman, etc.

    SIR JOSEPH. Now, tell me, my fine fellow—for you are a fine
  fellow—
    RALPH. Yes, your honour.
    SIR JOSEPH. How came your captain so far to forget himself? I
  am quite
  sure you had given him no cause for annoyance.
    RALPH, Please your honour, it was thus-wise. You see I'm only a
  topman-
  -a mere foremast hand—
    SIR JOSEPH. Don't be ashamed of that. Your position as a topman
  is a
  very exalted one.
    RALPH. Well, your honour, love burns as brightly in the
  fo'c'sle as it
  does on the quarter-deck, and Josephine is the fairest bud that
  ever
  blossomed upon the tree of a poor fellow's wildest hopes.

                      Enter JOSEPHINE; she rushes to RALPH'S arms

    JOS. Darling! (SIR JOSEPH horrified.)
    RALPH. She is the figurehead of my ship of life—the bright
  beacon that
  guides me into my port of happiness—that the rarest, the purest
  gem that
  ever sparkled on a poor but worthy fellow's trusting brow!
    ALL. Very pretty, very pretty!
    SIR JOSEPH. Insolent sailor, you shall repent this outrage.
  Seize him!
    (Two Marines seize him and handcuff him.)
    JOS. Oh, Sir Joseph, spare him, for I love him tenderly.
    SIR JOSEPH. Pray, don't. I will teach this presumptuous mariner
  to
  discipline his affections. Have you such a thing as a dungeon on
  board?
    ALL. We have!
    DICK. They have!
    SIR JOSEPH. Then load him with chains and take him there at
  once!

                                  OCTETTE

    RALPH.            Farewell, my own,
                        Light of my life, farewell!
                      For crime unknown
                        I go to a dungeon cell.

    JOS.              I will atone.
                        In the meantime farewell!
                      And all alone
                        Rejoice in your dungeon cell!

    SIR JOSEPH.       A bone, a bone
                        I'll pick with this sailor fell;
                      Let him be shown at once
                        At once to his dungeon cell.

                   BOATSWAIN, DICK DEADEYE, and COUSIN HEBE

                      He'll hear no tone
                        Of the maiden he loves so well!
                      No telephone
                        Communicates with his cell!

    BUT. (mysteriously). But when is known
                        The secret I have to tell,
                      Wide will be thrown
                        The door of his dungeon cell.

    ALL.              For crime unknown
                        He goes to a dungeon cell!
                                          [RALPH is led off in
  custody.

    SIR JOSEPH.       My pain and my distress
                      Again it is not easy to express.
                      My amazement, my surprise,
                      Again you may discover from my eyes.

    ALL.              How terrible the aspect of his eyes!

    BUT.              Hold! Ere upon your loss
                        You lay much stress,
                      A long-concealed crime
                        I would confess.

                            SONG—BUTTERCUP

                        A many years ago,
                      When I was young and charming,
                        As some of you may know,
                      I practised baby-farming.

    ALL.              Now this is most alarming!
                When she was young and charming,
                      She practised baby-farming,
                        A many years ago.

    BUT.              Two tender babes I nursed:
                        One was of low condition,
                      The other, upper crust,
                        A regular patrician.

    ALL (explaining to each other).
                      Now, this is the position:
                      One was of low condition,
                      The other a patrician,
                        A many years ago.

    BUT.              Oh, bitter is my cup!
                        However could I do it?
                      I mixed those children up,
                        And not a creature knew it!

    ALL.              However could you do it?
                      Some day, no doubt, you'll rue it,
                      Although no creature knew it,
                        So many years ago.

    BUT.              In time each little waif
                        Forsook his foster-mother,
                      The well born babe was Ralph—
                        Your captain was the other!!!

    ALL.              They left their foster-mother,
                      The one was Ralph, our brother,
                      Our captain was the other,
                        A many years ago.

    SIR JOSEPH. Then I am to understand that Captain Corcoran and
  Ralph
  were exchanged in childhood's happy hour—that Ralph is really
  the
  Captain, and the Captain is Ralph?
    BUT. That is the idea I intended to convey, officially!
    SIR JOSEPH. And very well you have conveyed it.
    BUT. Aye! aye! yer 'onour.
    SIR JOSEPH. Dear me! Let them appear before me, at once!

  [RALPH. enters as CAPTAIN; CAPTAIN as a common sailor. JOSEPHINE
  rushes
  to his arms

    JOS. My father—a common sailor!
    CAPT. It is hard, is it not, my dear?
    SIR JOSEPH. This is a very singular occurrence; I congratulate
  you
  both. (To RALPH.) Desire that remarkably fine seaman to step
  forward.
    RALPH. Corcoran. Three paces to the front—march!
    CAPT. If what?
    RALPH. If what? I don't think I understand you.
    CAPT. If you please.
    SIR JOSEPH. The gentleman is quite right. If you please.
    RALPH. Oh! If you please. (CAPTAIN steps forward.)
    SIR JOSEPH (to CAPTAIN).You are an extremely fine fellow.
    CAPT. Yes, your honour.
    SIR JOSEPH. So it seems that you were Ralph, and Ralph was you.
    CAPT. SO it seems, your honour.
    SIR JOSEPH. Well, I need not tell you that after this change in
  your
  condition, a marriage with your daughter will be out of the
  question.
    CAPT. Don't say that, your honour—love levels all ranks.
    SIR JOSEPH. It does to a considerable extent, but it does not
  level
  them as much as that. (Handing JOSEPHINE to RALPH.) Here — take
  her,
  sir, and mind you treat her kindly.
    RALPH and JOS. Oh bliss, oh rapture!
    CAPT. and BUT. Oh rapture, oh bliss!

    SIR JOSEPH.          Sad my lot and sorry,
               What shall I do? I cannot live alone!
  HEBE.          Fear nothing—while I live I'll not desert you.
                 I'll soothe and comfort your declining days.
    SIR JOSEPH.  No, don't do that.
    HEBE.        Yes, but indeed I'd rather—
    SIR JOSEPH (resigned). To-morrow morn our vows shall all be
  plighted,
                 Three loving pairs on the same day united!

                                 QUARTETTE

                     JOSEPHINE, HEBE, RALPH, and DEADEYE

                      Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen,
                      The clouded sky is now serene,
                      The god of day—the orb of love,
                      Has hung his ensign high above,
                        The sky is all ablaze.

                      With wooing words and loving song,
                      We'll chase the lagging hours along,
                      And if { he finds } the maiden coy,
                               I find
                      We'll murmur forth decorous joy,
                      In dreamy roundelay.

    CAPT.             For he's the Captain of the Pinafore.
    ALL.              And a right good captain too!
    CAPT.               And though before my fall
                        I was captain of you all,
                      I'm a member of the crew.
    ALL.                Although before his fall, etc.
    CAPT.             I shall marry with a wife,
                      In my humble rank of life! (turning to BUT.)
                        And you, my own, are she—
                      I must wander to and fro;
                      But wherever I may go,
                        I shall never be untrue to thee!
    ALL.                   What, never?
    CAPT.                    No, never!
    ALL.                   What, never!
    CAPT.                    Hardly ever!
    ALL.               Hardly ever be untrue to thee.
                      Then give three cheers, and one cheer more
                      For the former Captain of the Pinafore.

    BUT.              For he loves Little Buttercup, dear Little
                                Buttercup,
                        Though I could never tell why;
                      But still he loves Buttercup, poor Little
                                Buttercup,
                        Sweet Little Buttercup, aye!
    ALL.                        For he loves, etc.

    SIR JOSEPH.       I'm the monarch of the sea,
                      And when I've married thee (to HEBE),
                      I'll be true to the devotion that my love
                                implants,
    HEBE.             Then good-bye to his sisters, and his
  cousins,
                           and his aunts,
                      Especially his cousins,
                      Whom he reckons up by dozens,
                      His sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!

    ALL.              For he is an Englishman,
                        And he himself hath said it,
                        And it's greatly to his credit
                      That he is an Englishman!

                                     CURTAIN





IOLANTHE
  OR

  THE PEER AND THE PERI
                                DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  THE LORD CHANCELLOR
  EARL OF MOUNTARARAT
  EARL TOLLOLLER
  PRIVATE WILLIS (of the Grenadier Guards)
  STREPHON (an Arcadian Shepherd)
  QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES
  IOLANTHE (a Fairy, Strephon's Mother)

  FAIRIES:
       CELIA
       LEILA
       FLETA

  PHYLLIS (an Arcadian Shepherdess and Ward of Chancery)

                                     ACT I

                             An Arcadian Landscape

                                     ACT II

                            Palace Yard, Westminster





ACT I
  SCENE.—An Arcadian Landscape.  A river runs around the back of the
  stage.  A rustic bridge crosses the river.

  Enter Fairies, led by Leila, Celia, and Fleta.  They trip around
  the stage, singing as they dance.

                               CHORUS.

                 Tripping hither, tripping thither,
                 Nobody knows why or whither;
                 We must dance and we must sing
                 Round about our fairy ring!

                            SOLO—CELIA.

                 We are dainty little fairies,
                      Ever singing, ever dancing;
                 We indulge in our vagaries
                      In a fashion most entrancing.
                 If you ask the special function
                      Of our never-ceasing motion,
                 We reply, without compunction,
                      That we haven't any notion!

                               CHORUS.

                      No, we haven't any notion!
                           Tripping hither, etc.

                            SOLO—LEILA.

                 If you ask us how we live,
                 Lovers all essentials give—
                      We can ride on lovers' sighs,
                      Warm ourselves in lovers' eyes,
                      Bathe ourselves in lovers' tears,
                      Clothe ourselves with lovers' fears,
                      Arm ourselves with lovers' darts,
                      Hide ourselves in lovers' hearts.
                 When you know us, you'll discover
                 That we almost live on lover!

                                CHORUS.

                      Yes, we live on lover!
                      Tripping hither, etc.
               (At the end of Chorus, all sigh wearily.)

       CELIA.  Ah, it's all very well, but since our Queen banished
  Iolanthe, fairy revels have not been what they were!

       LEILA.  Iolanthe was the life and soul of Fairyland.  Why, she
  wrote all our songs and arranged all our dances!  We sing her songs
  and we trip her measures, but we don't enjoy ourselves!
       FLETA.  To think that five-and-twenty years have elapsed since
  she was banished!  What could she have done to have deserved so
  terrible a punishment?
       LEILA.  Something awful!  She married a mortal!
       FLETA.  Oh!  Is it injudicious to marry a mortal?
       LEILA.  Injudicious?  It strikes at the root of the whole
  fairy system!  By our laws, the fairy who marries a mortal dies!
       CELIA.  But Iolanthe didn't die!

                      (Enter Fairy Queen.)

       QUEEN.  No, because your Queen, who loved her with a
  surpassing love, commuted her sentence to penal servitude for life,
  on condition that she left her husband and never communicated with
  him again!
       LEILA.  That sentence of penal servitude she is now working
  out, on her head, at the bottom of that stream!
       QUEEN.  Yes, but when I banished her, I gave her all the
  pleasant places of the earth to dwell in.  I'm sure I never
  intended that she should go and live at the bottom of a stream!  It
  makes me perfectly wretched to think of the discomfort she must
  have undergone!
       LEILA.  Think of the damp!  And her chest was always delicate.
       QUEEN.  And the frogs!  Ugh!  I never shall enjoy any peace of
  mind until I know why Iolanthe went to live among the frogs!
       FLETA.  Then why not summon her and ask her?
       QUEEN.  Why?  Because if I set eyes on her I should forgive
  her at once!
       CELIA.  Then why not forgive her?  Twenty-five years—it's a
  long time!
       LEILA.  Think how we loved her!
       QUEEN.  Loved her?  What was your love to mine?  Why, she was
  invaluable to me!  Who taught me to curl myself inside a buttercup?
  Iolanthe!  Who taught me to swing upon a cobweb?  Iolanthe!  Who
  taught me to dive into a dewdrop—to nestle in a nutshell—to
  gambol upon gossamer?  Iolanthe!
       LEILA.  She certainly did surprising things!
       FLETA.  Oh, give her back to us, great Queen, for your sake if
  not for ours!  (All kneel in supplication.)
       QUEEN (irresolute).  Oh, I should be strong, but I am weak!
  I should be marble, but I am clay!  Her punishment has been heavier
  than I intended.  I did not mean that she should live among the
  frogs—and—well, well, it shall be as you wish—it shall be as you
  wish!

                         INVOCATION—QUEEN.

                           Iolanthe!
            From thy dark exile thou art summoned!
                      Come to our call—
                      Come, come, Iolanthe!

  CELIA.                   Iolanthe!

  LEILA.                   Iolanthe!

  ALL.           Come to our call, Iolanthe!
                 Iolanthe, come!

  (Iolanthe rises from the water.  She is clad in water-weeds.  She
  approaches the Queen with head bent and arms crossed.)

  IOLANTHE.      With humbled breast
                      And every hope laid low,
                 To thy behest,
                      Offended Queen, I bow!

  QUEEN.    For a dark sin against our fairy laws
            We sent thee into life-long banishment;
            But mercy holds her sway within our hearts—
            Rise—thou art pardoned!

  IOL.                               Pardoned!

  ALL.                                    Pardoned!

  (Her weeds fall from her, and she appears clothed as a fairy.  The
  Queen places a diamond coronet on her head, and embraces her.  The
  others also embrace her.)

                               CHORUS.

                 Welcome to our hearts again,
                      Iolanthe! Iolanthe!
                 We have shared thy bitter pain,
                      Iolanthe! Iolanthe!

                 Every heart and every hand
                 In our loving little band
                 Welcomes thee to Fairyland,
                      Iolanthe!

       QUEEN.  And now, tell me, with all the world to choose from,
  why on earth did you decide to live at the bottom of that stream?
       IOL.  To be near my son, Strephon.
       QUEEN.  Bless my heart, I didn't know you had a son.
       IOL.  He was born soon after I left my husband by your royal
  command—but he does not even know of his father's existence.
       FLETA.  How old is he?
       IOL.  Twenty-four.
       LEILA.  Twenty-four!  No one, to look at you, would think you
  had a son of twenty-four!  But that's one of the advantages of
  being immortal.  We never grow old!  Is he pretty?
       IOL.  He's extremely pretty, but he's inclined to be stout.
       ALL (disappointed).  Oh!
       QUEEN.  I see no objection to stoutness, in moderation.
       CELIA.  And what is he?
       IOL.  He's an Arcadian shepherd—and he loves Phyllis, a Ward
  in Chancery.
       CELIA.  A mere shepherd! and he half a fairy!
       IOL.  He's a fairy down to the waist—but his legs are mortal.
       ALL.  Dear me!
       QUEEN.  I have no reason to suppose that I am more curious
  than other people, but I confess I should like to see a person who
  is a fairy down to the waist, but whose legs are mortal.
       IOL.  Nothing easier, for here he comes!

  (Enter Strephon, singing and dancing and playing on a flageolet.
  He does not see the Fairies, who retire up stage as he enters.)

                           SONG—STREPHON.

                 Good morrow, good mother!
                      Good mother, good morrow!
                 By some means or other,
                      Pray banish your sorrow!
                           With joy beyond telling
                           My bosom is swelling,
                           So join in a measure
                           Expressive of pleasure,
                 For I'm to be married to-day—to-day—
                      Yes, I'm to be married to-day!

  CHORUS (aside).     Yes, he's to be married to-day—to-day—
                      Yes, he's to be married to-day!

       IOL.  Then the Lord Chancellor has at last given his consent
  to your marriage with his beautiful ward, Phyllis?
       STREPH.  Not he, indeed.  To all my tearful prayers he answers
  me, "A shepherd lad is no fit helpmate for a Ward of Chancery."  I
  stood in court, and there I sang him songs of Arcadee, with
  flageolet accompaniment—in vain.  At first he seemed amused, so
  did the Bar; but quickly wearying of my song and pipe, bade me get
  out.  A servile usher then, in crumpled bands and rusty bombazine,
  led me, still singing, into Chancery Lane!  I'll go no more; I'll
  marry her to-day, and brave the upshot, be it what it may!  (Sees
  Fairies.)  But who are these?
       IOL.  Oh, Strephon!  rejoice with me, my Queen has pardoned
  me!
       STREPH.  Pardoned you, mother?  This is good news indeed.
       IOL.  And these ladies are my beloved sisters.
       STREPH.  Your sisters!  Then they are—my aunts!
       QUEEN.  A pleasant piece of news for your bride on her wedding
  day!
       STREPH.  Hush!  My bride knows nothing of my fairyhood.  I
  dare not tell her, lest it frighten her.  She thinks me mortal, and
  prefers me so.
       LEILA.  Your fairyhood doesn't seem to have done you much
  good.
       STREPH.  Much good!  My dear aunt! it's the curse of my
  existence!  What's the use of being half a fairy?  My body can
  creep through a keyhole, but what's the good of that when my legs
  are left kicking behind?  I can make myself invisible down to the
  waist, but that's of no use when my legs remain exposed to view!
  My brain is a fairy brain, but from the waist downwards I'm a
  gibbering idiot.  My upper half is immortal, but my lower half
  grows older every day, and some day or other must die of old age.
  What's to become of my upper half when I've buried my lower half I
  really don't know!
       FAIRIES.  Poor fellow!
       QUEEN.  I see your difficulty, but with a fairy brain you
  should seek an intellectual sphere of action.  Let me see.  I've a
  borough or two at my disposal.  Would you like to go into
  Parliament?
       IOL.  A fairy Member!  That would be delightful!
       STREPH.  I'm afraid I should do no good there—you see, down
  to the waist, I'm a Tory of the most determined description, but my
  legs are a couple of confounded Radicals, and, on a division,
  they'd be sure to take me into the wrong lobby.  You see, they're
  two to one, which is a strong working majority.
       QUEEN.  Don't let that distress you; you shall be returned as
  a Liberal-Conservative, and your legs shall be our peculiar care.
       STREPH. (bowing).  I see your Majesty does not do things by
  halves.
       QUEEN.  No, we are fairies down to the feet.

                             ENSEMBLE.

  QUEEN.         Fare thee well, attractive stranger.
  FAIRIES.       Fare thee well, attractive stranger.
  QUEEN.         Shouldst thou be in doubt or danger,
                 Peril or perplexitee,
                 Call us, and we'll come to thee!
  FAIRIES.       Aye!  Call us, and we'll come to thee!
                      Tripping hither, tripping thither,
                      Nobody knows why or whither;
                      We must now be taking wing
                      To another fairy ring!

  (Fairies and Queen trip off, Iolanthe, who takes an affectionate
  farewell of her son, going off last.)

  (Enter Phyllis, singing and dancing, and accompanying herself on a
  flageolet.)

                           SONG—PHYLLIS.

                 Good morrow, good lover!
                      Good lover, good morrow!
                 I prithee discover,
                      Steal, purchase, or borrow
                           Some means of concealing
                           The care you are feeling,
                           And join in a measure
                           Expressive of pleasure,
                 For we're to be married to-day—to-day!
                      Yes, we're to be married to-day!

  BOTH.               Yes, we're to be married, etc.

       STREPH. (embracing her).  My Phyllis!  And to-day we are to be
  made happy for ever.
       PHYL.  Well, we're to be married.
       STREPH.  It's the same thing.
       PHYL.  I suppose it is.  But oh, Strephon, I tremble at the
  step I'm taking!  I believe it's penal servitude for life to marry
  a Ward of Court without the Lord Chancellor's consent!  I shall be
  of age in two years.  Don't you think you could wait two years?
       STREPH.  Two years.  Have you ever looked in the glass?
       PHYL.  No, never.
       STREPH.  Here, look at that (showing her a pocket mirror), and
  tell me if you think it rational to expect me to wait two years?
       PHYL. (looking at herself).  No.  You're quite right—it's
  asking too much.  One must be reasonable.
       STREPH.  Besides, who knows what will happen in two years?
  Why, you might fall in love with the Lord Chancellor himself by
  that time!
       PHYL.  Yes.  He's a clean old gentleman.
       STREPH.  As it is, half the House of Lords are sighing at your
  feet.
       PHYL.  The House of Lords are certainly extremely attentive.
       STREPH.  Attentive?  I should think they were!  Why did
  five-and-twenty Liberal Peers come down to shoot over your
  grass-plot last autumn?  It couldn't have been the sparrows.  Why
  did five-and-twenty Conservative Peers come down to fish your pond?
  Don't tell me it was the gold-fish!  No, no—delays are dangerous,
  and if we are to marry, the sooner the better.

                     DUET—STREPHON and PHYLLIS.

  PHYLLIS.       None shall part us from each other,
                      One in life and death are we:
                 All in all to one another—
                      I to thee and thou to me!

  BOTH.          Thou the tree and I the flower—
                      Thou the idol; I the throng—
                 Thou the day and I the hour—
                      Thou the singer; I the song!

  STREPH.        All in all since that fond meeting
                      When, in joy, I woke to find
                 Mine the heart within thee beating,
                      Mine the love that heart enshrined!

  BOTH.          Thou the stream and I the willow—
                      Thou the sculptor; I the clay—
                      Thou the Ocean; I the billow—
                           Thou the sunrise; I the day!

                                      (Exeunt Strephon and Phyllis
  together.)

                     (March.  Enter Procession of Peers.)

                               CHORUS.

                 Loudly let the trumpet bray!
                                     Tantantara!
                      Proudly bang the sounding brasses!
                                     Tzing! Boom!
                 As upon its lordly way
                      This unique procession passes,
                           Tantantara! Tzing! Boom!
                 Bow, bow, ye lower middle classes!
                 Bow, bow, ye tradesmen, bow, ye masses!
                 Blow the trumpets, bang the brasses!
                      Tantantara!  Tzing!  Boom!
                 We are peers of highest station,
                 Paragons of legislation,
                 Pillars of the British nation!
                      Tantantara! Tzing! Boom!

  (Enter the Lord Chancellor, followed by his train-bearer.)

                       SONG—LORD CHANCELLOR.

                 The Law is the true embodiment
                 Of everything that's excellent.
                 It has no kind of fault or flaw,
                 And I, my Lords, embody the Law.
                 The constitutional guardian I
                 Of pretty young Wards in Chancery,
                 All very agreeable girls—and none
                 Are over the age of twenty-one.
                      A pleasant occupation for
                      A rather susceptible Chancellor!

  ALL.                     A pleasant, etc.

                 But though the compliment implied
                 Inflates me with legitimate pride,
                 It nevertheless can't be denied
                 That it has its inconvenient side.
                 For I'm not so old, and not so plain,
                 And I'm quite prepared to marry again,
                 But there'd be the deuce to pay in the Lords
                 If I fell in love with one of my Wards!
                      Which rather tries my temper, for
                      I'm such a susceptible Chancellor!

  ALL.                     Which rather, etc.

                 And every one who'd marry a Ward
                 Must come to me for my accord,
                 And in my court I sit all day,
                 Giving agreeable girls away,
                 With one for him—and one for he—
                 And one for you—and one for ye—
                 And one for thou—and one for thee—
                 But never, oh, never a one for me!
                      Which is exasperating for
                      A highly susceptible Chancellor!

  ALL.                     Which is, etc.

                          (Enter Lord Tolloller.)

       LORD TOLL.  And now, my Lords, to the business of the day.
       LORD CH.  By all means.  Phyllis, who is a Ward of Court, has
  so powerfully affected your Lordships, that you have appealed to me
  in a body to give her to whichever one of you she may think proper
  to select, and a noble Lord has just gone to her cottage to request
  her immediate attendance.  It would be idle to deny that I, myself,
  have the misfortune to be singularly attracted by this young
  person.  My regard for her is rapidly undermining my constitution.
  Three months ago I was a stout man.  I need say no more.  If I
  could reconcile it with my duty, I should unhesitatingly award her
  to myself, for I can conscientiously say that I know no man who is
  so well fitted to render her exceptionally happy.  (Peers: Hear,
  hear!)  But such an award would be open to misconstruction, and
  therefore, at whatever personal inconvenience, I waive my claim.
       LORD TOLL.  My Lord, I desire, on the part of this House, to
  express its sincere sympathy with your Lordship's most painful
  position.
       LORD CH.  I thank your Lordships.  The feelings of a Lord
  Chancellor who is in love with a Ward of Court are not to be
  envied.  What is his position?  Can he give his own consent to his
  own marriage with his own Ward?  Can he marry his own Ward without
  his own consent?  And if he marries his own Ward without his own
  consent, can he commit himself for contempt of his own Court?  And
  if he commit himself for contempt of his own Court, can he appear
  by counsel before himself, to move for arrest of his own judgement?
  Ah, my Lords, it is indeed painful to have to sit upon a woolsack
  which is stuffed with such thorns as these!

                     (Enter Lord Mountararat.)

       LORD MOUNT.  My Lord, I have much pleasure in announcing that
  I have succeeded in inducing the young person to present herself at
  the Bar of this House.

                              (Enter Phyllis.)

                        RECITATIVE—PHYLLIS.

                 My well-loved Lord and Guardian dear,
                 You summoned me, and I am here!

                          CHORUS OF PEERS.

                      Oh, rapture, how beautiful!
                      How gentle—how dutiful!

                        SOLO—LORD TOLLOLLER.

                 Of all the young ladies I know
                      This pretty young lady's the fairest;
                 Her lips have the rosiest show,
                      Her eyes are the richest and rarest.
                 Her origin's lowly, it's true,
                      But of birth and position I've plenty;
                 I've grammar and spelling for two,
                      And blood and behaviour for twenty!
                           Her origin's lowly, it's true,
                           I've grammar and spelling for two;

  CHORUS.        Of birth and position he's plenty,
                 With blood and behaviour for twenty!

                       SOLO—LORD MOUNTARARAT.

            Though the views of the House have diverged
                 On every conceivable motion,
            All questions of Party are merged
                 In a frenzy of love and devotion;
            If you ask us distinctly to say
                 What Party we claim to belong to,
            We reply, without doubt or delay,
                 The Party I'm singing this song to!

                           SOLO—PHYLLIS.

            I'm very much pained to refuse,
                 But I'll stick to my pipes and my tabors;
            I can spell all the words that I use,
                 And my grammar's as good as my neighbours'.
            As for birth—I was born like the rest,
                 My behaviour is rustic but hearty,
            And I know where to turn for the best,
                 When I want a particular Party!

                PHYLLIS, LORD TOLL., and LORD MOUNT.

            Though her station is none of the best,
            I suppose she was born like the rest;
            And she knows where to look for her hearty,
            When she wants a particular Party!

                        RECITATIVE—PHYLLIS.

                      Nay, tempt me not.
                           To rank I'll not be bound;
                      In lowly cot
                           Alone is virtue found!

  CHORUS.   No, no; indeed high rank will never hurt you,
            The Peerage is not destitute of virtue.

                       BALLAD—LORD TOLLOLLER.

                 Spurn not the nobly born
                      With love affected,
                 Nor treat with virtuous scorn
                      The well-connected.
                 High rank involves no shame—
                 We boast an equal claim
                 With him of humble name
                      To be respected!
                 Blue blood! blue blood!
                      When virtuous love is sought
                      Thy power is naught,
                 Though dating from the Flood,
                      Blue blood!  Ah, blue blood!

  CHORUS.        When virtuous love is sought, etc.

                 Spare us the bitter pain
                      Of stern denials,
                 Nor with low-born disdain
                      Augment our trials.
                 Hearts just as pure and fair
                 May beat in Belgrave Square
                 As in the lowly air
                      Of Seven Dials!
                 Blue blood! blue blood!
                      Of what avail art thou
                      To serve us now?
                 Though dating from the Flood,
                      Blue blood!  Ah, blue blood!

  CHORUS.        Of what avail art thou, etc.

                        RECITATIVE—PHYLLIS.

                 My Lords, it may not be.
                      With grief my heart is riven!
                 You waste your time on me,
                      For ah! my heart is given!

  ALL.                     Given!
  PHYL.                    Yes, given!
  ALL.                     Oh, horror!!!

                    RECITATIVE—LORD CHANCELLOR.

            And who has dared to brave our high displeasure,
                 And thus defy our definite command?

  (Enter Strephon.)

  STREPH.   'Tis I—young Strephon! mine this priceless treasure!
                 Against the world I claim my darling's hand!

  (Phyllis rushes to his arms.)

            A shepherd I—
  ALL.                          A shepherd he!
  STREPH.   Of Arcady-
  ALL.                          Of Arcadee!
  STREPH.   Betrothed are we!
  ALL.                          Betrothed are they—
  STREPH.   And mean to be-
  ALL.                          Espoused to-day!

                              ENSEMBLE.

       STREPH.                                 THE OTHERS.

  A shepherd I                            A shepherd he
  Of Arcady,                              Of Arcadee,
  Betrothed are we,                       Betrothed is he,
  And mean to be                          And means to be
       Espoused to-day!                        Espoused to-day!

              DUET—LORD MOUNTARARAT and LORD TOLLOLLER
                       (aside to each other).

                      'Neath this blow,
                           Worse than stab of dagger—
                      Though we mo-
                           Mentarily stagger,
                      In each heart
                           Proud are we innately—
                      Let's depart,
                           Dignified and stately!

  ALL.                Let's depart,
                           Dignified and stately!

                          CHORUS OF PEERS.

                 Though our hearts she's badly bruising,
                 In another suitor choosing,
                 Let's pretend it's most amusing.
                      Ha! ha! ha!  Tan-ta-ra!

  (Exeunt all the Peers, marching round stage with much dignity.
  Lord Chancellor separates Phyllis from Strephon and orders her off.
  She follows Peers.  Manent Lord Chancellor and Strephon.)

       LORD CH.  Now, sir, what excuse have you to offer for having
  disobeyed an order of the Court of Chancery?
       STREPH.  My Lord, I know no Courts of Chancery; I go by
  Nature's Acts of Parliament.  The bees—the breeze—the seas—the
  rooks—the brooks—the gales—the vales—the fountains and the
  mountains cry, "You love this maiden—take her, we command you!"
  'Tis writ in heaven by the bright barbed dart that leaps forth into
  lurid light from each grim thundercloud.  The very rain pours forth
  her sad and sodden sympathy!  When chorused Nature bids me take my
  love, shall I reply, "Nay, but a certain Chancellor forbids it"?
  Sir, you are England's Lord High Chancellor, but are you Chancellor
  of birds and trees, King of the winds and Prince of thunderclouds?
       LORD CH.  No.  It's a nice point.  I don't know that I ever
  met it before.  But my difficulty is that at present there's no
  evidence before the Court that chorused Nature has interested
  herself in the matter.
       STREPH.  No evidence!  You have my word for it.  I tell you
  that she bade me take my love.
       LORD CH.  Ah! but, my good sir, you mustn't tell us what she
  told you—it's not evidence.  Now an affidavit from a thunderstorm,
  or a few words on oath from a heavy shower, would meet with all the
  attention they deserve.
       STREPH.  And have you the heart to apply the prosaic rules of
  evidence to a case which bubbles over with poetical emotion?
       LORD CH.  Distinctly.  I have always kept my duty strictly
  before my eyes, and it is to that fact that I owe my advancement to
  my present distinguished position.

                       SONG—LORD CHANCELLOR.

            When I went to the Bar as a very young man,
                 (Said I to myself—said I),
            I'll work on a new and original plan,
                 (Said I to myself—said I),
            I'll never assume that a rogue or a thief
            Is a gentleman worthy implicit belief,
            Because his attorney has sent me a brief,
                 (Said I to myself—said I!).

            Ere I go into court I will read my brief through
                 (Said I to myself—said I),
            And I'll never take work I'm unable to do
                 (Said I to myself-said I),
            My learned profession I'll never disgrace
            By taking a fee with a grin on my face,
            When I haven't been there to attend to the case
                 (Said I to myself—said I!).

            I'll never throw dust in a juryman's eyes
                 (Said I to myself—said I),
            Or hoodwink a judge who is not over-wise
                 (Said I to myself—said I),
            Or assume that the witnesses summoned in force
            In Exchequer, Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, or Divorce,
            Have perjured themselves as a matter of course
                 (Said I to myself—said I!).

            In other professions in which men engage
                 (Said I to myself said I),
            The Army, the Navy, the Church, and the Stage
                 (Said I to myself—said I),
            Professional licence, if carried too far,
            Your chance of promotion will certainly mar—
            And I fancy the rule might apply to the Bar
                 (Said I to myself—said I!).

                                                      (Exit Lord
  Chancellor.)

                            (Enter Iolanthe)

       STREPH.  Oh, Phyllis, Phyllis!  To be taken from you just as
  I was on the point of making you my own!  Oh, it's too much—it's
  too much!
       IOL. (to Strephon, who is in tears).  My son in tears—and on
  his wedding day!
       STREPH.  My wedding day!  Oh, mother, weep with me, for the
  Law has interposed between us, and the Lord Chancellor has
  separated us for ever!
       IOL.  The Lord Chancellor!  (Aside.)  Oh, if he did but know!
       STREPH. (overhearing her).  If he did but know what?
       IOL.  No matter!  The Lord Chancellor has no power over you.
  Remember you are half a fairy.  You can defy him—down to the
  waist.
       STREPH.  Yes, but from the waist downwards he can commit me to
  prison for years!  Of what avail is it that my body is free, if my
  legs are working out seven years' penal servitude?
       IOL.  True.  But take heart—our Queen has promised you her
  special protection.  I'll go to her and lay your peculiar case
  before her.
       STREPH.  My beloved mother! how can I repay the debt I owe
  you?

                          FINALE—QUARTET.

  (As it commences, the Peers appear at the back, advancing unseen
  and on tiptoe.  Lord Mountararat and Lord Tolloller lead Phyllis
  between them, who listens in horror to what she hears.)

  STREPH. (to Iolanthe).   When darkly looms the day,
                      And all is dull and grey,
                      To chase the gloom away,
                           On thee I'll call!

  PHYL. (speaking aside to Lord Mountararat).  What was that?

  LORD MOUNT. (aside to Phyllis).
                      I think I heard him say,
                      That on a rainy day,
                      To while the time away,
                           On her he'd call!

  CHORUS.   We think we heard him say, etc.

  (Phyllis much agitated at her lover's supposed faithlessness.)

  IOL. (to Strephon). When tempests wreck thy bark,
                 And all is drear and dark,
                 If thou shouldst need an Ark,
                      I'll give thee one!

  PHYL. (speaking aside to Lord Tolloller).    What was that?

  LORD TOLL. (aside to Phyllis).
                 I heard the minx remark,
                 She'd meet him after dark,
                 Inside St James's Park,
                      And give him one!

  CHORUS.        We heard the minx remark, etc.

  PHYL.          The prospect's very bad.
                 My heart so sore and sad
                 Will never more be glad
                      As summer's sun.

  PHYL., IOL., LORD TOLL., STREPH.
                 The prospect's not so bad,
                 My/Thy heart so sore and sad
                 May very soon be glad
                      As summer's sun;

  PHYL., IOL., LORD TOLL., STEPH., LORD MOUNT.
                 For when the sky is dark
                 And tempests wreck his/thy/my bark,
                      he should
                 If thou shouldst need an Ark,
                      I should
                 She'll    him
                 I'll give thee one!
                           me

  PHYL.  (revealing herself).   Ah!

  (Iolanthe and Strephon much confused.)

  PHYL.          Oh, shameless one, tremble!
                      Nay, do not endeavour
                 Thy fault to dissemble,
                      We part—and for ever!
                 I worshipped him blindly,
                 He worships another—

  STREPH.        Attend to me kindly,
                      This lady's my mother!

  TOLL.          This lady's his what?
  STREPH.        This lady's my mother!
  TENORS.        This lady's his what?
  BASSES.        He says she's his mother!

  (They point derisively to Iolanthe, laughing heartily at her.  She
  goes for protection to Strephon.)

              (Enter Lord Chancellor.  Iolanthe veils herself.)

  LORD CH.       What means this mirth unseemly,
                      That shakes the listening earth?

  LORD TOLL.     The joke is good extremely,
                      And justifies our mirth.

  LORD MOUNT.    This gentleman is seen,
                      With a maid of seventeen,
                 A-taking of his dolce far niente;
                      And wonders he'd achieve,
                      For he asks us to believe
                 She's his mother—and he's nearly five-and-twenty!

  LORD CH. (sternly). Recollect yourself, I pray,
                      And be careful what you say—
                 As the ancient Romans said, festina lente.
                      For I really do not see
                      How so young a girl could be
                 The mother of a man of five-and-twenty.

  ALL.                Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

  STREPH.   My Lord, of evidence I have no dearth—
            She is—has been—my mother from my birth!

                               BALLAD.

                           In babyhood
                      Upon her lap I lay,
                           With infant food
                      She moistened my clay;
                           Had she withheld
                      The succour she supplied,
                           By hunger quelled,
                      Your Strephon might have died!

  LORD CH. (much moved).
                 Had that refreshment been denied,
                 Indeed our Strephon might have died!

  ALL (much affected).
                 Had that refreshment been denied,
                 Indeed our Strephon might have died!

  LORD MOUNT.         But as she's not
                 His mother, it appears,
                      Why weep these hot
                 Unnecessary tears?
                      And by what laws
                 Should we so joyously
                      Rejoice, because
                 Our Strephon did not die?
                 Oh rather let us pipe our eye
                 Because our Strephon did not die!

  ALL.           That's very true—let's pipe our eye
                 Because our Strephon did not die!

  (All weep.  Iolanthe, who has succeeded in hiding her face from
  Lord Chancellor, escapes unnoticed.)

  PHYL.          Go, traitorous one—for ever we must part:
                 To one of you, my Lords, I give my heart!

  ALL.                     Oh, rapture!

  STREPH.        Hear me, Phyllis, ere you leave me.

  PHYL.          Not a word—you did deceive me.

  ALL.           Not a word—you did deceive her.
                                                             (Exit
  Strephon.)

                          BALLAD—PHYLLIS.

            For riches and rank I do not long—
                 Their pleasures are false and vain;
            I gave up the love of a lordly throng
                 For the love of a simple swain.
            But now that simple swain's untrue,
            With sorrowful heart I turn to you—
                 A heart that's aching,
                 Quaking, breaking,
            As sorrowful hearts are wont to do!

            The riches and rank that you befall
                 Are the only baits you use,
            So the richest and rankiest of you all
                 My sorrowful heart shall choose.
            As none are so noble—none so rich
            As this couple of lords, I'll find a niche
                 In my heart that's aching,
                 Quaking, breaking,
            For one of you two-and I don't care which!

                              ENSEMBLE.

  PHYL. (to Lord Mountararat and Lord Tolloller).
            To you I give my heart so rich!
  ALL (puzzled).                To which?
  PHYL.          I do not care!
       To you I yield—it is my doom!
  ALL.                          To whom?
  PHYL.          I'm not aware!
       I'm yours for life if you but choose.
  ALL.                          She's whose?
  PHYL.          That's your affair!
       I'll be a countess, shall I not?
  ALL.                          Of what?
  PHYL.          I do not care!
  ALL.      Lucky little lady!
            Strephon's lot is shady;
            Rank, it seems, is vital,
            "Countess" is the title,
            But of what I'm not aware!

                          (Enter Strephon.)

  STREPH.   Can I inactive see my fortune fade?
                           No, no!

  PEERS.                   Ho, ho!

  STREPH.   Mighty protectress, hasten to my aid!

  (Enter Fairies, tripping, headed by Celia, Leila, and Fleta, and
  followed by Queen.)

  CHORUS    Tripping hither, tripping thither.
    OF      Nobody knows why or whither;
  FAIRIES   Why you want us we don't know,
            But you've summoned us, and so
                 Enter all the little fairies
                      To their usual tripping measure!
                 To oblige you all our care is—
                      Tell us, pray, what is your pleasure!

  STREPH.   The lady of my love has caught me talking to another—
  PEERS.         Oh, fie! young Strephon is a rogue!
  STREPH.   I tell her very plainly that the lady is my mother—
  PEERS.         Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!
  STREPH.   She won't believe my statement, and declares we must be
  parted,
            Because on a career of double-dealing I have started,
            Then gives her hand to one of these, and leaves me
  broken-hearted—
  PEERS.         Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!
  QUEEN.    Ah, cruel ones, to separate two lovers from each other!
  FAIRIES.       Oh, fie! our Strephon's not a rogue!
  QUEEN.    You've done him an injustice, for the lady is his mother!
  FAIRIES.       Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!
  LORD CH.  That fable perhaps may serve his turn as well as any
  other.
       (Aside.)  I didn't see her face, but if they fondled one
  another,
            And she's but seventeen—I don't believe it was his
  mother!
                 Taradiddle, taradiddle.
  ALL.           Tol lol lay!

  LORD TOLL.     I have often had a use
                 For a thorough-bred excuse
            Of a sudden (which is English for "repente"),
                 But of all I ever heard
                 This is much the most absurd,
            For she's seventeen, and he is five-and-twenty!

  ALL.      Though she is seventeen, and he is four or
  five-and-twenty!
                 Oh, fie! our Strephon is a rogue!

  LORD MOUNT.    Now, listen, pray to me,
                 For this paradox will be
            Carried, nobody at all contradicente.
                 Her age, upon the date
                 Of his birth, was minus eight,
            If she's seventeen, and he is five-and-twenty!

  PEERS and FAIRIES.  If she is seventeen, and he is only
  five-and-twenty.

  ALL.      To say she is his mother is an utter bit of folly!
                 Oh, fie! our Strephon is a rogue!
            Perhaps his brain is addled, and it's very melancholy!
                 Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!
            I wouldn't say a word that could be reckoned as
  injurious,
            But to find a mother younger than her son is very
  curious,
            And that's a kind of mother that is usually spurious.
                 Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!

  LORD CH.            Go away, madam;
                      I should say, madam,
                      You display, madam,
                           Shocking taste.

                      It is rude, madam,
                      To intrude, madam,
                      With your brood, madam,
                           Brazen-faced!

                      You come here, madam,
                      Interfere, madam,
                      With a peer, madam.
                           (I am one.)

                      You're aware, madam,
                      What you dare, madam,
                      So take care, madam,
                           And begone!

                              ENSEMBLE

  FAIRIES (to QUEEN).                          PEERS
  Let us stay, madam;                Go away, madam;
  I should say, madam,               I should say, madam,
  They display, madam,               You display, madam,
       Shocking taste.                    Shocking taste.

  It is rude, madam,                 It is rude, madam,
  To allude, madam,                  To intrude, madam,
  To your brood, madam,              With your brood, madam,
       Brazen-faced!                      Brazen-faced!

  We don't fear, madam,              You come here, madam,
  Any peer, madam,                   Interfere, madam,
  Though, my dear madam,             With a peer, madam,
       This is one.                   (I am one.)

  They will stare, madam,            You're aware, madam,
  When aware, madam,                 What you dare, madam,
  What they dare, madam—            So take care, madam,
       What they've done!                 And begone!

  QUEEN.         Bearded by these puny mortals!
   (furious).    I will launch from fairy portals
                 All the most terrific thunders
                 In my armoury of wonders!

  PHYL. (aside). Should they launch terrific wonders,
                 All would then repent their blunders.
                 Surely these must be immortals.
                                                              (Exit
  Phyllis.)

  QUEEN.         Oh! Chancellor unwary
                 It's highly necessary
                      Your tongue to teach
                      Respectful speech—
                 Your attitude to vary!

                 Your badinage so airy,
                 Your manner arbitrary,
                      Are out of place
                      When face to face
                 With an influential Fairy.

  ALL THE PEERS       We never knew
   (aside).           We were talking to
                 An influential Fairy!

  LORD CH.       A plague on this vagary,
                 I'm in a nice quandary!
                      Of hasty tone
                      With dames unknown
                 I ought to be more chary;
                 It seems that she's a fairy
                 From Andersen's library,
                      And I took her for
                      The proprietor
                 Of a Ladies' Seminary!

  PEERS.              We took her for
                      The proprietor
                 Of a Ladies' Seminary!

  QUEEN.    When next your Houses do assemble,
                      You may tremble!

  CELIA.    Our wrath, when gentlemen offend us,
                      Is tremendous!

  LEILA.    They meet, who underrate our calling,
                      Doom appalling!

  QUEEN.    Take down our sentence as we speak it,
                      And he shall wreak it!
                                                       (Indicating
  Strephon.)
  PEERS.    Oh, spare us!

  QUEEN.    Henceforth, Strephon, cast away
            Crooks and pipes and ribbons so gay—
            Flocks and herds that bleat and low;
            Into Parliament you shall go!

  ALL.      Into Parliament he shall go!
                 Backed by our supreme authority,
                 He'll command a large majority!
            Into Parliament he shall go!

  QUEEN.    In the Parliamentary hive,
                 Liberal or Conservative—
                 Whig or Tory—I don't know—
            But into Parliament you shall go!

  ALL.      Into Parliament, etc.

                  QUEEN (speaking through music).

            Every bill and every measure
            That may gratify his pleasure,
            Though your fury it arouses,
                 Shall be passed by both your Houses!

  PEERS.         Oh!
  QUEEN.    You shall sit, if he sees reason,
            Through the grouse and salmon season;
  PEERS.         No!
  QUEEN.    He shall end the cherished rights
            You enjoy on Friday nights:
  PEERS.         No!
  QUEEN.    He shall prick that annual blister,
            Marriage with deceased wife's sister:
  PEERS.         Mercy!
  QUEEN.    Titles shall ennoble, then,
            All the Common Councilmen:
  PEERS.         Spare us!
  QUEEN.    Peers shall teem in Christendom,
                 And a Duke's exalted station
            Be attainable by Com-
                 Petitive Examination!

       PEERS.              FAIRIES and PHYLLIS.

  Oh, horror!                   Their horror
                           They can't dissemble
                      Nor hide the fear that makes them
                                tremble!

                              ENSEMBLE.

            PEERS                FAIRIES, PHYLLIS, and STREPHON.

  Young Strephon is the kind of lout With Strephon for your foe, no
  doubt,
  We do not care a fig about!        A fearful prospect opens out,
            We cannot say                 And who shall say
            What evils may                What evils may
       Result in consequence.             Result in consequence?

  But lordly vengeance will pursue   A hideous vengeance will pursue
  All kinds of common people who     All noblemen who venture to
            Oppose our views,                  Opppose his views,
            Or boldly choose                   Or boldly choose
       To offer us offence.               To offer him offence.

  He'd better fly at humbler game,   'Twill plunge them into grief
  and shame;
  Or our forbearance he must claim,  His kind forbearance they must
  claim,
            If he'd escape                If they'd escape
            In any shape                  In any shape
       A very painful wrench!             A very painful wrench.

  Your powers we dauntlessly pooh-pooh:   Although our threats you
  now pooh-pooh,
  A dire revenge will fall on you.   A dire revenge will fall on you,
            If you besiege                Should he besiege
            Our high prestige—           Your high prestige—
  (The word "prestige" is French).   The word "prestige" is French).

  PEERS.         Our lordly style
                      You shall not quench
                 With base canaille!
  FAIRIES.            (That word is French.)
  PEERS.         Distinction ebbs
                      Before a herd
                 Of vulgar plebs!
  FAIRIES.            (A Latin word.)
  PEERS.         'Twould fill with joy,
                      And madness stark
                 The hoi polloi!

  FAIRIES.            (A Greek remark.)

  PEERS.    One Latin word, one Greek remark,
            And one that's French.

  FAIRIES.  Your lordly style
                 We'll quickly quench
            With base canaille!
  PEERS.         (That word is French.)
  FAIRIES.  Distinction ebbs
                 Before a herd
            Of vulgar plebs!
  PEERS.         (A Latin word.)
  FAIRIES.  'Twill fill with joy
                 And madness stark
            The hoi polloi!
  PEERS.         (A Greek remark.)

  FAIRIES.  One Latin word, one Greek remark,
            And one that's French.

       PEERS.                        FAIRIES.

    You needn't wait:             We will not wait:
         Away you fly!                 We go sky-high!
    Your threatened hate          Our threatened hate
         We won't defy!                You won't defy!

  (Fairies threaten Peers with their wands.  Peers kneel as begging
  for merry.  Phyllis implores Strephon to relent.  He casts her from
  him, and she falls fainting into the arms of Lord Mountararat and
  Lord Tolloller.)

                            END OF ACT I





ACT II
  Scene.—Palace Yard, Westminster.  Westminster Hall, L.  Clock
  tower up, R.C. Private Willis discovered on sentry, R. Moonlight.

                        SONG—PRIVATE WILLIS.

  When all night long a chap remains
       On sentry-go, to chase monotony
  He exercises of his brains,
       That is, assuming that he's got any.
  Though never nurtured in the lap
       Of luxury, yet I admonish you,
  I am an intellectual chap,
       And think of things that would astonish you.
            I often think it's comical—Fal, lal, la!
            How Nature always does contrive—Fal, lal, la!
                 That every boy and every gal
                      That's born into the world alive
                 Is either a little Liberal
                      Or else a little Conservative!
                                     Fal, lal, la!

  When in that House M.P.'s divide,
       If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,
  They've got to leave that brain outside,
       And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.
  But then the prospect of a lot
       Of dull M. P.'s in close proximity,
  All thinking for themselves, is what
       No man can face with equanimity.
            Then let's rejoice with loud Fal la—Fal lal la!
            That Nature always does contrive—Fal lal la!
                 That every boy and every gal
                      That's born into the world alive
                 Is either a little Liberal
                      Or else a little Conservative!
                                     Fal lal la!

  (Enter Fairies, with Celia, Leila, and Fleta.  They trip round
  stage.)

                         CHORUS OF FAIRIES.

            Strephon's a Member of Parliament!
            Carries every Bill he chooses.
            To his measures all assent—
                 Showing that fairies have their uses.
                      Whigs and Tories
                      Dim their glories,
            Giving an ear to all his stories—
            Lords and Commons are both in the blues!
            Strephon makes them shake in their shoes!
                 Shake in their shoes!
                 Shake in their shoes!
            Strephon makes them shake in their shoes!

  (Enter Peers from Westminster Hall.)

                          CHORUS OF PEERS.

            Strephon's a Member of Parliament!
                 Running a-muck of all abuses.
            His unqualified assent
                 Somehow nobody now refuses.
                      Whigs and Tories
                      Dim their glories,
            Giving an ear to all his stories
            Carrying every Bill he may wish:
            Here's a pretty kettle of fish!
                 Kettle of fish!
                 Kettle of fish!
            Here's a pretty kettle of fish!

  (Enter Lord Mountararat and Lord Tolloller from Westminster Hall.)

       CELIA.  You seem annoyed.
       LORD MOUNT.  Annoyed!  I should think so!  Why, this
  ridiculous protege of yours is playing the deuce with everything!
  To-night is the second reading of his Bill to throw the Peerage
  open to Competitive Examination!
       LORD TOLL.  And he'll carry it, too!
       LORD MOUNT.  Carry it?  Of course he will!  He's a
  Parliamentary Pickford—he carries everything!
       LEILA.  Yes.  If you please, that's our fault!
       LORD MOUNT.  The deuce it is!
       CELIA.  Yes; we influence the members, and compel them to vote
  just as he wishes them to.
       LEILA.  It's our system.  It shortens the debates.
       LORD TOLL.  Well, but think what it all means.  I don't so
  much mind for myself, but with a House of Peers with no
  grandfathers worth mentioning, the country must go to the dogs!
       LEILA.  I suppose it must!
       LORD MOUNT.  I don't want to say a word against brains—I've
  a great respect for brains—I often wish I had some myself—but
  with a House of Peers composed exclusively of people of intellect,
  what's to become of the House of Commons?
       LEILA.  I never thought of that!
       LORD MOUNT.  This comes of women interfering in politics.  It
  so happens that if there is an institution in Great Britain which
  is not susceptible of any improvement at all, it is the House of
  Peers!

                       SONG—LORD MOUNTARARAT.

            When Britain really ruled the waves—
                 (In good Queen Bess's time)
            The House of Peers made no pretence
            To intellectual eminence,
                 Or scholarship sublime;
            Yet Britain won her proudest bays
            In good Queen Bess's glorious days!

  CHORUS.        Yes, Britain won, etc.

            When Wellington thrashed Bonaparte,
                 As every child can tell,
            The House of Peers, throughout the war,
            Did nothing in particular,
                 And did it very well:
            Yet Britain set the world ablaze
            In good King George's glorious days!

  CHORUS.        Yes, Britain set, etc.

            And while the House of Peers withholds
                 Its legislative hand,
            And noble statesmen do not itch
            To interfere with matters which
                 They do not understand,
            As bright will shine Great Britain's rays
            As in King George's glorious days!

  CHORUS.        As bright will shine, etc.

       LEILA. (who has been much attracted by the Peers during this
  song).  Charming persons, are they not?
       CELIA.  Distinctly.  For self-contained dignity, combined with
  airy condescension, give me a British Representative Peer!
       LORD TOLL.  Then pray stop this protege of yours before it's
  too late.  Think of the mischief you're doing!
       LEILA (crying).  But we can't stop him now.  (Aside to Celia.)
  Aren't they lovely!  (Aloud.)  Oh, why did you go and defy us, you
  great geese!

                       DUET—LEILA and CELIA.

  LEILA.              In vain to us you plead—
                                     Don't go!
                      Your prayers we do not heed—
                                     Don't go!
                           It's true we sigh,
                                But don't suppose
                           A tearful eye
                                Forgiveness shows.
                                     Oh, no!
                      We're very cross indeed—
                           Yes, very cross,
                                     Don't go!

  FAIRIES.                 It's true we sigh, etc.

  CELIA.              Your disrespectful sneers—
                                     Don't go!
                      Call forth indignant tears—
                                     Don't go!
                           You break our laws—
                                You are our foe:
                           We cry because
                                We hate you so!
                                     You know!
                      You very wicked Peers!
                           You wicked Peers!
                                     Don't go!

       FAIRIES.                      LORDS MOUNT. and TOLL.

  You break our laws—          Our disrespectful sneers,
       You are our foe:                   Ha, ha!
  We cry because                Call forth indignant tears,
       We hate you so!                    Ha, ha!
                 You know!      If that's the case, my dears—
  You very wicked Peers!   FAIRIES.  Don't go!
                 Don't go! PEERS.    We'll go!

  (Exeunt Lord Mountararat, Lord Tolloller, and Peers.  Fairies gaze
  wistfully after them.)

                          (Enter Fairy Queen.)

       QUEEN.  Oh, shame—shame upon you!  Is this your fidelity to
  the laws you are bound to obey?  Know ye not that it is death to
  marry a mortal?
       LEILA.  Yes, but it's not death to wish to marry a mortal!
       FLETA.  If it were, you'd have to execute us all!
       QUEEN.  Oh, this is weakness!  Subdue it!
       CELIA.  We know it's weakness, but the weakness is so strong!
       LEILA.  We are not all as tough as you are!
       QUEEN.  Tough!  Do you suppose that I am insensible to the
  effect of manly beauty?  Look at that man!  (Referring to Sentry.)
  A perfect picture!  (To Sentry.)  Who are you, sir?
       WILLIS (coming to "attention").  Private Willis, B Company,
  1st Grenadier Guards.
       QUEEN.  You're a very fine fellow, sir.
       WILLIS.  I am generally admired.
       QUEEN.  I can quite understand it.  (To Fairies.)  Now here is
  a man whose physical attributes are simply godlike.  That man has
  a most extraordinary effect upon me.  If I yielded to a natural
  impulse, I should fall down and worship that man.  But I mortify
  this inclination; I wrestle with it, and it lies beneath my feet!
  That is how I treat my regard for that man!

                         SONG—FAIRY QUEEN.

                      Oh, foolish fay,
                           Think you, because
                      His brave array
                           My bosom thaws,
                      I'd disobey
                           Our fairy laws?
                      Because I fly
                           In realms above,
                      In tendency
                           To fall in love,
                      Resemble I
                           The amorous dove?
  (Aside.)            Oh, amorous dove!
                           Type of Ovidius Naso!
                                This heart of mine
                                Is soft as thine,
                      Although I dare not say so!

  CHORUS.             Oh, amorous dove, etc.

                      On fire that glows
                           With heat intense
                      I turn the hose
                           Of common sense,
                      And out it goes
                           At small expense!
                      We must maintain
                           Our fairy law;
                      That is the main
                           On which to draw—
                      In that we gain
                           A Captain Shaw!
  (Aside.)                 Oh, Captain Shaw!
                                Type of true love kept under!
                                     Could thy Brigade
                                     With cold cascade
                                Quench my great love, I wonder!

  CHORUS.             Oh, Captain Shaw! etc.

               (Exeunt Fairies and Fairy Queen, sorrowfully.)

                             (Enter Phyllis.)

       PHYL.  (half crying).  I can't think why I'm not in better
  spirits.  I'm engaged to two noblemen at once.  That ought to be
  enough to make any girl happy.  But I'm miserable!  Don't suppose
  it's because I care for Strephon, for I hate him!  No girl could
  care for a man who goes about with a mother considerably younger
  than himself!

              (Enter Lord Mountararat and Lord Tolloller.)

       LORD MOUNT.  Phyllis!  My darling!
       LORD TOLL.  Phyllis!  My own!
       PHYL.  Don't!  How dare you?  Oh, but perhaps you're the two
  noblemen I'm engaged to?
       LORD MOUNT.  I am one of them.
       LORD TOLL.  I am the other.
       PHYL.  Oh, then, my darling!  (to Lord Mountararat).  My own!
  (to Lord Tolloller).  Well, have you settled which it's to be?
       LORD TOLL.  Not altogether.  It's a difficult position.  It
  would be hardly delicate to toss up.  On the whole we would rather
  leave it to you.
       PHYL.  How can it possibly concern me?  You are both EarIs,
  and you are both rich, and you are both plain.
       LORD MOUNT.  So we are.  At least I am.
       LORD TOLL.  So am I.
       LORD MOUNT.  No, no!
       LORD TOLL.  I am indeed.  Very plain.
       LORD MOUNT.  Well, well—perhaps you are.
       PHYL.  There's really nothing to choose between you.  If one
  of you would forgo his title, and distribute his estates among his
  Irish tenantry, why, then, I should then see a reason for accepting
  the other.
       LORD MOUNT.  Tolloller, are you prepared to make this
  sacrifice?
       LORD TOLL.  No!
       LORD MOUNT.  Not even to oblige a lady?
       LORD TOLL.  No! not even to oblige a lady.
       LORD MOUNT.  Then, the only question is, which of us shall
  give way to the other?  Perhaps, on the whole, she would be happier
  with me.  I don't know.  I may be wrong.
       LORD TOLL.  No.  I don't know that you are.  I really believe
  she would.  But the awkward part of the thing is that if you rob me
  of the girl of my heart, we must fight, and one of us must die.
  It's a family tradition that I have sworn to respect.  It's a
  painful position, for I have a very strong regard for you, George.
       LORD MOUNT. (much affected).  My dear Thomas!
       LORD TOLL.  You are very dear to me, George.  We were boys
  together—at least I was.  If I were to survive you, my existence
  would be hopelessly embittered.
       LORD MOUNT.  Then, my dear Thomas, you must not do it.  I say
  it again and again—if it will have this effect upon you, you must
  not do it.  No, no.  If one of us is to destroy the other, let it
  be me!
       LORD TOLL.  No, no!
       LORD MOUNT.  Ah, yes!—by our boyish friendship I implore you!
       LORD TOLL. (much moved).  Well, well, be it so.  But,
  no—no!—I cannot consent to an act which would crush you with
  unavaillng remorse.
       LORD MOUNT.  But it would not do so.  I should be very sad at
  first—oh, who would not be?—but it would wear off.  I like you
  very much—but not, perhaps, as much as you like me.
       LORD TOLL.  George, you're a noble fellow, but that tell-tale
  tear betrays you.  No, George; you are very fond of me, and I
  cannot consent to give you a week's uneasiness on my account.
       LORD MOUNT.  But, dear Thomas, it would not last a week!
  Remember, you lead the House of Lords!  On your demise I shall take
  your place!  Oh, Thomas, it would not last a day!
       PHYL. (coming down).  Now, I do hope you're not going to fight
  about me, because it's really not worth while.
       LORD TOLL. (looking at her).  Well, I don't believe it is!
       LORD MOUNT.  Nor I.  The sacred ties of Friendship are
  paramount.

                     QUARTET—LORD MOUNTARARAT,
            LORD TOLLOLLER, PHYLLIS, and PRIVATE WILLIS.

  LORD TOLL.     Though p'r'aps I may incur your blame,
                      The things are few
                      I would not do
                 In Friendship's name!

  LORD MOUNT.    And I may say I think the same;
                      Not even love
                      Should rank above
                 True Friendship's name!

  PHYL.          Then free me, pray; be mine the blame;
                      Forget your craze
                      And go your ways
                 In Friendship's name!

  ALL.           Oh, many a man, in Friendship's name,
                 Has yielded fortune, rank, and fame!
                 But no one yet, in the world so wide,
                 Has yielded up a promised bride!

  WILLIS.        Accept, O Friendship, all the same,

  ALL.           This sacrifice to thy dear name!

  (Exeunt Lord Mountararat and Lord Tolloller, lovingly, in one
  direction, and Phyllis in another.  Exit Sentry.)

                 (Enter Lord Chancellor, very miserable.)

                    RECITATIVE—LORD CHANCELLOR.

            Love, unrequited, robs me of my rest:
                 Love, hopeless love, my ardent soul encumbers:
            Love, nightmare-like, lies heavy on my chest,
                 And weaves itself into my midnight slumbers!

                       SONG—LORD CHANCELLOR.

  When you're lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is
  taboo'd by anxiety,
  I conceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in,
  without impropriety;
  For your brain is on fire—the bedclothes conspire of usual
  slumber to plunder you:
  First your counterpane goes, and uncovers your toes, and your
  sheet slips demurely from under you;
  Then the blanketing tickles—you feel like mixed pickles—so
  terribly sharp is the pricking,
  And you're hot, and you're cross, and you tumble and toss till
  there's nothing 'twixt you and the ticking.
  Then the bedclothes all creep to the ground in a heap, and you
  pick 'em all up in a tangle;
  Next your pillow resigns and politely declines to remain at its
  usual angle!
  Well, you get some repose in the form of a doze, with hot
  eye-balls and head ever aching.
  But your slumbering teems with such horrible dreams that you'd
  very much better be waking;
  For you dream you are crossing the Channel, and tossing about in
  a steamer from Harwich—
  Which is something between a large bathing machine and a very
  small second-class carriage—
  And you're giving a treat (penny ice and cold meat) to a party of
  friends and relations—
  They're a ravenous horde—and they all came on board at Sloane
  Square and South Kensington Stations.
  And bound on that journey you find your attorney (who started  that
  morning from Devon);
  He's a bit undersized, and you don't feel surprised when he tells
  you he's only eleven.
  Well, you're driving like mad with this singular lad (by the by,
  the ship's now a four-wheeler),
  And you're playing round games, and he calls you bad names when
  you tell him that "ties pay the dealer";
  But this you can't stand, so you throw up your hand, and you find
  you're as cold as an icicle,
  In your shirt and your socks (the black silk with gold clocks),
  crossing Salisbury Plain on a bicycle:
  And he and the crew are on bicycles too—which they've somehow   or
  other invested in—
  And he's telling the tars all the particulars of a company he's
  interested in—
  It's a scheme of devices, to get at low prices all goods from
  cough mixtures to cables
  (Which tickled the sailors), by treating retailers as though they
  were all vegetables—
  You get a good spadesman to plant a small tradesman (first take
  off his boots with a boot-tree),
  And his legs will take root, and his fingers will shoot, and
  they'll blossom and bud like a fruit-tree—
  From the greengrocer tree you get grapes and green pea,
  cauliflower, pineapple, and cranberries,
  While the pastrycook plant cherry brandy will grant, apple puffs,
  and three corners, and Banburys—
  The shares are a penny, and ever so many are taken by Rothschild
  and Baring,
  And just as a few are allotted to you, you awake with a shudder
  despairing—
  You're a regular wreck, with a crick in your neck, and no wonder
  you snore, for your head's on the floor, and you've needles and
  pins from your soles to your shins, and your flesh is a-creep, for
  your left leg's asleep, and you've cramp in your toes, and a fly on
  your nose, and some fluff in your lung, and a feverish tongue, and
  a thirst that's intense, and a general sense that you haven't been
  sleeping in clover;
  But the darkness has passed, and it's daylight at last, and the
  night has been long—ditto ditto my song—and thank goodness
  they're both of them over!

                                 (Lord Chancellor falls exhausted on
  a seat.)

              (Enter Lords Mountararat and Tolloller.)

       LORD MOUNT.  I am much distressed to see your Lordship in this
  condition.
       LORD CH.  Ah, my Lords, it is seldom that a Lord Chancellor
  has reason to envy the position of another, but I am free to
  confess that I would rather be two Earls engaged to Phyllis than
  any other half-dozen noblemen upon the face of the globe.
       LORD TOLL. (without enthusiasm).  Yes.  It's an enviable
  position when you're the only one.
       LORD MOUNT.  Oh yes, no doubt—most enviable.  At the same
  time, seeing you thus, we naturally say to ourselves, "This is very
  sad.  His Lordship is constitutionally as blithe as a bird—he
  trills upon the bench like a thing of song and gladness.  His
  series of judgements in F sharp minor, given andante in six-eight
  time, are among the most remarkable effects ever produced in a
  Court of Chancery.  He is, perhaps, the only living instance of a
  judge whose decrees have received the honour of a double encore.
  How can we bring ourselves to do that which will deprive the Court
  of Chancery of one of its most attractive features?"
       LORD CH.  I feel the force of your remarks, but I am here in
  two capacities, and they clash, my Lords, they clash!  I deeply
  grieve to say that in declining to entertain my last application to
  myself, I presumed to address myself in terms which render it
  impossible for me ever to apply to myself again.  It was a most
  painful scene, my Lords—most painful!
       LORD TOLL.  This is what it is to have two capacities!  Let us
  be thankful that we are persons of no capacity whatever.
       LORD MOUNT.  Come, come.  Remember you are a very just and
  kindly old gentleman, and you need have no hesitation in
  approaching yourself, so that you do so respectfully and with a
  proper show of deference.
       LORD CH.  Do you really think so?
       LORD MOUNT.  I do.
       LORD CH.  Well, I will nerve myself to another effort, and,
  if that fails, I resign myself to my fate!

       TRIO—LORD CHANCELLOR, LORDS MOUNTARARAT and TOLLOLLER.

  LORD MOUNT.         If you go in
                      You're sure to win—
                 Yours will be the charming maidie:
                      Be your law
                      The ancient saw,
                 "Faint heart never won fair lady!"

  ALL.           Never, never, never,
                 Faint heart never won fair lady!
                      Every journey has an end—
                      When at the worst affairs will mend—
                      Dark the dawn when day is nigh—
                      Hustle your horse and don't say die!

  LORD TOLL.          He who shies
                      At such a prize
                 Is not worth a maravedi,
                      Be so kind
                      To bear in mind—
                 Faint heart never won fair lady!

  ALL.           Never, never, never,
                 Faint heart never won fair lady!
                      While the sun shines make your hay—
                      Where a will is, there's a way—
                      Beard the lion in his lair—
                      None but the brave deserve the fair!

  LORD CH.            I'll take heart
                      And make a start—
                 Though I fear the prospect's shady—
                      Much I'd spend
                      To gain my end—
                 Faint heart never won fair lady!

  ALL.           Never, never, never,
                 Faint heart never won fair lady!
                      Nothing venture, nothing win—
                      Blood is thick, but water's thin—
                      In for a penny, in for a pound—
                      It's Love that makes the world go round!

                                     (Dance, and exeunt arm-in-arm
  together.)

                   (Enter Strephon, in very low spirits.)

  [The following song was deleted from production]

            Fold your flapping wings,
                 Soaring legislature.
            Stoop to little things,
                 Stoop to human nature.
            Never need to roam
                 members patriotic.
            Let's begin at home,
                 Crime is no exotic.
            Bitter is your bane
                 Terrible your trials
            Dingy Drury Lane
                 Soapless Seven Dials.
            Take a tipsy lout
                 Gathered from the gutter,
            Hustle him about,
                 Strap him to a shutter.
            What am I but he,
                 Washed at hours stated.
            Fed on filagree,
                 Clothed and educated
            He's a mark of scorn
                 I might be another
            If I had been born
                 Of a tipsy mother.
            Take a wretched thief,
                 Through the city sneaking.
            Pocket handkerchief
                 Ever, ever seeking.
            What is he but I
                 Robbed of all my chances
            Picking pockets by
                 force of circumstances
                      I might be as bad,
                           As unlucky, rather,
                      If I'd only had,
                           Fagin for a father.

       STREPH.  I suppose one ought to enjoy oneself in Parliament,
  when one leads both Parties, as I do!  But I'm miserable, poor,
  broken-hearted fool that I am!  Oh Phyllis, Phyllis!—

                            (Enter Phyllis.)
       PHYL.  Yes.
       STREPH. (surprised).  Phyllis!  But I suppose I should say "My
  Lady."  I have not yet been informed which title your ladyship has
  pleased to select?
       PHYL.  I—I haven't quite decided.  You see, I have no mother
  to advise me!
       STREPH.  No.  I have.
       PHYL.  Yes; a young mother.
       STREPH.  Not very—a couple of centuries or so.
       PHYL.  Oh!  She wears well.
       STREPH.  She does.  She's a fairy.
       PHYL.  I beg your pardon—a what?
       STREPH.  Oh, I've no longer any reason to conceal the
  fact—she's a fairy.
       PHYL.  A fairy!  Well, but—that would account for a good many
  things!  Then—I suppose you're a fairy?
       STREPH.  I'm half a fairy.
       PHYL.  Which half?
       STREPH.  The upper half—down to the waistcoat.
       PHYL.  Dear me!  (Prodding him with her fingers.)  There is
  nothing to show it!
       STREPH.  Don't do that.
       PHYL.  But why didn't you tell me this before?
       STREPH.  I thought you would take a dislike to me.  But as
  it's all off, you may as well know the truth—I'm only half a
  mortal!
       PHYL. (crying).  But I'd rather have half a mortal I do love,
  than half a dozen I don't!
       STREPH.  Oh, I think not—go to your half-dozen.
       PHYL. (crying).  It's only two! and I hate 'em!  Please
  forgive me!
       STREPH.  I don't think I ought to.  Besides, all sorts of
  difficulties will arise.  You know, my grandmother looks quite as
  young as my mother.  So do all my aunts.
       PHYL.  I quite understand.  Whenever I see you kissing a very
  young lady, I shall know it's an elderly relative.
       STREPH.  You will?  Then, Phyllis, I think we shall be very
  happy!  (Embracing her.)
       PHYL.  We won't wait long.
       STREPH.  No.  We might change our minds.  We'll get married
  first.
       PHYL.  And change our minds afterwards?
       STREPH.  That's the usual course.

                     DUET—STREPHON and PHYLLIS.

  STREPH.        If we're weak enough to tarry
                      Ere we marry,
                           You and I,
                 Of the feeling I inspire
                      You may tire
                           By and by.
                 For peers with flowing coffers
                      Press their offers—
                           That is why
                 I am sure we should not tarry
                      Ere we marry,
                           You and I!

  PHYL.          If we're weak enough to tarry
                      Ere we marry,
                           You and I,
                 With a more attractive maiden,
                      Jewel-laden,
                           You may fly.
                 If by chance we should be parted,
                      Broken-hearted
                           I should die—
                 So I think we will not tarry
                      Ere we marry,
                           You and I.

       PHYL.  But does your mother know you're—I mean, is she aware
  of our engagement?

                         (Enter Iolanthe.)

       IOL.  She is; and thus she welcomes her daughter-in-law!
  (Kisses her.)
       PHYL.  She kisses just like other people!  But the Lord
  Chancellor?
       STREPH.  I forgot him!  Mother, none can resist your fairy
  eloquence; you will go to him and plead for us?
       IOL. (much agitated).  No, no; impossible!
       STREPH.  But our happiness—our very lives—depend upon our
  obtaining his consent!
       PHYL.  Oh, madam, you cannot refuse to do this!
       IOL.  You know not what you ask!  The Lord Chancellor is—my
  husband!
  STREPH. and PHYL.  Your husband!
       IOL.  My husband and your father!  (Addressing Strephon, who
  is much moved.)
       PHYLL.  Then our course is plain; on his learning that
  Strephon is his son, all objection to our marriage will be at once
  removed!
       IOL.  No; he must never know!  He believes me to have died
  childless, and, dearly as I love him, I am bound, under penalty of
  death, not to undeceive him.  But see—he comes!  Quick—my veil!

  (Iolanthe veils herself.  Strephon and Phyllis go off on tiptoe.)

                      (Enter Lord Chancellor.)

       LORD CH.  Victory!  Victory!  Success has crowned my efforts,
  and I may consider myself engaged to Phyllis!  At first I wouldn't
  hear of it—it was out of the question.  But I took heart.  I
  pointed out to myself that I was no stranger to myself; that, in
  point of fact, I had been personally acquainted with myself for
  some years.  This had its effect.  I admitted that I had watched my
  professional advancement with considerable interest, and I
  handsomely added that I yielded to no one in admiration for my
  private and professional virtues.  This was a great point gained.
  I then endeavoured to work upon my feelings.  Conceive my joy when
  I distinctly perceived a tear glistening in my own eye!
  Eventually, after a severe struggle with myself, I
  reluctantly—most reluctantly—consented.

                                                (Iolanthe comes down
  veiled.)

                    RECITATIVE—IOLANTHE (kneeling).

            My lord, a suppliant at your feet I kneel,
            Oh, listen to a mother's fond appeal!
            Hear me to-night!  I come in urgent need—
            'Tis for my son, young Strephon, that I plead!

                          BALLAD—IOLANTHE.

                 He loves!  If in the bygone years
                      Thine eyes have ever shed
                 Tears—bitter, unavailing tears,
                      For one untimely dead—
                 If, in the eventide of life,
                      Sad thoughts of her arise,
                 Then let the memory of thy wife
                      Plead for my boy—he dies!

                 He dies!  If fondly laid aside
                      In some old cabinet,
                 Memorials of thy long-dead bride
                      Lie, dearly treasured yet,
                 Then let her hallowed bridal dress—
                      Her little dainty gloves—
                 Her withered flowers—her faded tress—
                      Plead for my boy—he loves!

  (The Lord Chancellor is moved by this appeal.  After a pause.)

  LORD CH.  It may not be—for so the fates decide!
            Learn thou that Phyllis is my promised bride.
  IOL. (in horror).   Thy bride!  No! no!
  LORD CH.            It shall be so!
            Those who would separate us woe betide!

  IOL.      My doom thy lips have spoken—
                                I plead in vain!

  CHORUS OF FAIRIES (without).       Forbear! forbear!

  IOL.      A vow already broken
                                I break again!

  CHORUS OF FAIRIES (without).       Forbear! forbear!

  IOL.      For him—for her—for thee
                                I yield my life.
            Behold—it may not be!
                                I am thy wife.

  CHORUS OF FAIRIES (without).       Aiaiah! Aiaiah! Willaloo!

  LORD CH. (recognizing her).   Iolanthe! thou livest?

  IOL.                                    Aye!
                                I live!  Now let me die!

  (Enter Fairy Queen and Fairies.  Iolanthe kneels to her.)

  QUEEN.    Once again thy vows are broken:
            Thou thyself thy doom hast spoken!

  CHORUS OF FAIRIES.            Aiaiah! Aiaiah!
                                     Willahalah! Willaloo!
                                     Willahalah! Willaloo!

  QUEEN.    Bow thy head to Destiny:
            Death thy doom, and thou shalt die!

  CHORUS OF FAIRIES.            Aiaiah! Aiaiah! etc.

  (Peers and Sentry enter.  The Queen raises her spear.)

       LEILA.  Hold!  If Iolanthe must die, so must we all; for, as
  she has sinned, so have we!
       QUEEN.  What?
       CELIA.  We are all fairy duchesses, marchionesses, countesses,
  viscountesses, and baronesses.
       LORD MOUNT.  It's our fault.  They couldn't help themselves.
       QUEEN.  It seems they have helped themselves, and pretty
  freely, too!  (After a pause.)  You have all incurred death; but I
  can't slaughter the whole company!  And yet (unfolding a scroll)
  the law is clear—every fairy must die who marries a mortal!
       LORD CH.  Allow me, as an old Equity draftsman, to make a
  suggestion.  The subtleties of the legal mind are equal to the
  emergency.  The thing is really quite simple—the insertion of a
  single word will do it.  Let it stand that every fairy shall die
  who doesn't marry a mortal, and there you are, out of your
  difficulty at once!
       QUEEN.  We like your humour.  Very well!  (Altering the MS. in
  pencil.)  Private Willis!
       SENTRY (coming forward).  Ma'am!
       QUEEN.  To save my life, it is necessary that I marry at once.
  How should you like to be a fairy guardsman?
       SENTRY.  Well, ma'am, I don't think much of the British
  soldier who wouldn't ill-convenience himself to save a female in
  distress.
       QUEEN.  You are a brave fellow.  You're a fairy from this
  moment.  (Wings spring from Sentry's shoulders.)  And you, my
  Lords, how say you, will you join our ranks?

                          (Fairies kneel to Peers and implore them to
  do so.)

                      (Phyllis and Strephon enter.)

       LORD MOUNT. (to Lord Tolloller).  Well, now that the Peers are
  to be recruited entirely from persons of intelligence, I really
  don't see what use we are, down here, do you, Tolloller?
       LORD TOLL.  None whatever.
       QUEEN.  Good!  (Wings spring from shoulders of Peers.)  Then
  away we go to Fairyland.

                               FINALE.

  PHYL.               Soon as we may,
                      Off and away!
                 We'll commence our journey airy—
                      Happy are we—
                      As you can see,
                 Every one is now a fairy!

  ALL.           Every, every, every,
                 Every one is now a fairy!

  IOL., QUEEN,   Though as a general rule we know
  and PHYL.      Two strings go to every bow,
                 Make up your minds that grief 'twill bring
                 If you've two beaux to every string.

  ALL.           Though as a general rule, etc.

  LORDCH.             Up in the sky,
                      Ever so high,
                 Pleasures come in endless series;
                      We will arrange
                      Happy exchange—
                 House of Peers for House of Peris!

  ALL.           Peris, Peris, Peris,
                 House of Peers for House of Peris!

  LORDS CH.,          Up in the air, sky-high, sky-high,
  MOUNT.,             Free from Wards in Chancery,
  and TOLL.           I/He will be surely happier, for
                      I'm/He's such a susceptible Chancellor.

  ALL.                Up in the air, etc.

                               CURTAIN





THE MIKADO
  OR

  THE TOWN OF TITIPU

  By William S. Gilbert

  Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
  THE MIKADO OF JAPAN.
  NANKI-POO (his Son, disguised as a wandering minstrel, and in
       love with Yum-Yum).
  KO-KO (Lord High Executioner of Titipu).
  POOH-BAH (Lord High Everything Else).
  PISH-TISH (a Noble Lord).
  Three Sisters—Wards of Ko-Ko:
       YUM-YUM
       PITTI-SING
       PEEP-BO
  KATISHA (an elderly Lady, in love with Nanki-Poo).
       Chorus of School-girls, Nobles, Guards, and Coolies.
            ACT I.—Courtyard of Ko-Ko's Official Residence.
                          ACT II.— Ko-Ko's Garden

           First produced at the Savoy Theatre on March 14, 1885.





ACT I.
  SCENE.—Courtyard of Ko-Ko's Palace in Titipu.  Japanese nobles
       discovered standing and sitting in attitudes suggested by
       native drawings.

                            CHORUS OF NOBLES.

       If you want to know who we are,
            We are gentlemen of Japan:
       On many a vase and jar—
            On many a screen and fan,
                 We figure in lively paint:
                 Our attitude's queer and quaint—
                 You're wrong if you think it ain't, oh!

       If you think we are worked by strings,
            Like a Japanese marionette,
       You don't understand these things:
            It is simply Court etiquette.
                 Perhaps you suppose this throng
                 Can't keep it up all day long?
                 If that's your idea, you're wrong, oh!

  Enter Nanki-Poo in great excitement.  He carries a native guitar
       on his back and a bundle of ballads in his hand.

                          RECIT.—NANKI-POO.

       Gentlemen, I pray you tell me
       Where a gentle maiden dwelleth,
       Named Yum-Yum, the ward of Ko-Ko?
       In pity speak, oh speak I pray you!

  A NOBLE.  Why, who are you who ask this question?
  NANK.     Come gather round me, and I'll tell you.

                    SONG and CHORUS—NANKI-POO.

       A wandering minstrel I—
            A thing of shreds and patches,
            Of ballads, songs and snatches,
       And dreamy lullaby!

       My catalogue is long,
            Through every passion ranging,
            And to your humours changing
       I tune my supple song!

            Are you in sentimental mood?
                 I'll sigh with you,
                      Oh, sorrow, sorrow!
            On maiden's coldness do you brood?
                 I'll do so, too—
                      Oh, sorrow, sorrow!
            I'll charm your willing ears
            With songs of lovers' fears,
            While sympathetic tears
                 My cheeks bedew—
                      Oh, sorrow, sorrow!

       But if patriotic sentiment is wanted,
            I've patriotic ballads cut and dried;
       For where'er our country's banner may be planted,
            All other local banners are defied!
       Our warriors, in serried ranks assembled,
            Never quail—or they conceal it if they do—
       And I shouldn't be surprised if nations trembled
            Before the mighty troops of Titipu!

  CHORUS.   We shouldn't be surprised, etc.

  NANK.     And if you call for a song of the sea,
                 We'll heave the capstan round,
            With a yeo heave ho, for the wind is free,
                 Her anchor's a-trip and her helm's a-lee,
            Hurrah for the homeward bound!

  CHORUS.             Yeo-ho—heave ho—
                 Hurrah for the homeward bound!

            To lay aloft in a howling breeze
                 May tickle a landsman's taste,
            But the happiest hour a sailor sees
                 Is when he's down
                 At an inland town,
            With his Nancy on his knees, yeo ho!
                 And his arm around her waist!

  CHORUS.   Then man the capstan—off we go,
                 As the fiddler swings us round,
            With a yeo heave ho,
            And a rum below,
                 Hurrah for the homeward bound!

            A wandering minstrel I, etc.

                       Enter Pish-Tush.

       PISH.  And what may be your business with Yum-Yum?
       NANK.  I'll tell you.  A year ago I was a member of the
  Titipu town band.  It was my duty to take the cap round for
  contributions.  While discharging this delicate office, I saw
  Yum-Yum.  We loved each other at once, but she was betrothed to
  her guardian Ko-Ko, a cheap tailor, and I saw that my suit was
  hopeless.  Overwhelmed with despair, I quitted the town.  Judge
  of my delight when I heard, a month ago, that Ko-Ko had been con-
  demned to death for flirting!  I hurried back at once, in the
  hope of finding Yum-Yum at liberty to listen to my protestations.
       PISH.  It is true that Ko-Ko was condemned to death for
  flirting, but he was reprieved at the last moment, and raised to
  the exalted rank of Lord High Executioner under the following
  remarkable circumstances:

                      SONG—PISH-TUSH and CHORUS.

       Our great Mikado, virtuous man,
       When he to rule our land began,
                 Resolved to try
                 A plan whereby
            Young men might best be steadied.

       So he decreed, in words succinct,
       That all who flirted, leered or winked
       (Unless connubially linked),
            Should forthwith be beheaded.

                 And I expect you'll all agree
                 That he was right to so decree.
                      And I am right,
                      And you are right,
                 And all is right as right can be!

  CHORUS.             And you are right.
                      And we are right, etc

       This stem decree, you'll understand,
       Caused great dismay throughout the land!
                 For young and old
                 And shy and bold
            Were equally affected.
       The youth who winked a roving eye,
       Or breathed a non-connubial sigh,
       Was thereupon condemned to die—
            He usually objected.

                 And you'll allow, as I expect,
                 That he was right to so object.
                      And I am right,
                      And you are right,
                 And everything is quite correct!

  CHORUS.        And you are right,
                 And we are right, etc.

       And so we straight let out on bail
       A convict from the county jail,
                 Whose head was next
                 On some pretext
            Condemned to be mown off,
       And made him Headsman, for we said,
       "Who's next to be decapited
       Cannot cut off another's head
            Until he's cut his own off."

            And we are right, I think you'll say,
            To argue in this kind of way;
                 And I am right,
                 And you are right,
            And all is right—too-looral-lay!

  CHORUS.        And you are right,
                 And we are right, etc.

                                                              [Exeunt
  Chorus.

                               Enter Pooh-Bah.

       NANK.  Ko-Ko, the cheap tailor, Lord High Executioner of
  Titipu! Why, that's the highest rank a citizen can attain!
       POOH.  It is.  Our logical Mikado, seeing no moral
  difference between the dignified judge who condemns a criminal to
  die, and the industrious mechanic who carries out the sentence,
  has rolled the two offices into one, and every judge is now his
  own executioner.
       NANK.  But how good of you (for I see that you are a
  nobleman of the highest rank) to condescend to tell all this to
  me, a mere strolling minstrel!
       POOH.  Don't mention it.  I am, in point of fact, a
  particularly haughty and exclusive person, of pre-Adamite
  ancestral descent.  You will understand this when I tell you that
  I can trace my ancestry back to a protoplasmal primordial atomic
  globule.  Consequently, my family pride is something
  inconceivable.  I can't help it.  I was born sneering.  But I
  struggle hard to overcome this defect.  I mortify my pride
  continually.  When all the great officers of State resigned in a
  body because they were too proud to serve under an ex-tailor, did
  I not unhesitatingly accept all their posts at once?
       PISH.  And the salaries attached to them?  You did.
       POOH.  It is consequently my degrading duty to serve this
  upstart as First Lord of the Treasury, Lord Chief Justice,
  Commander-in-Chief, Lord High Admiral, Master of the Buckhounds,
  Groom of the Back Stairs, Archbishop of Titipu, and Lord Mayor,
  both acting and elect, all rolled into one.  And at a salary!  A
  Pooh-Bah paid for his services!  I a salaried minion!  But I do
  it!  It revolts me, but I do it!
       NANK.  And it does you credit.
       POOH.  But I don't stop at that.  I go and dine with
  middle-class people on reasonable terms.  I dance at cheap
  suburban parties for a moderate fee.  I accept refreshment at any
  hands, however lowly.  I also retail State secrets at a very low
  figure.  For instance, any further information about Yum-Yum
  would come under the head of a State secret.  (Nanki-Poo takes his
  hint, and gives him money.)  (Aside.)  Another insult and, I
  think, a light one!

           SONG—POOH-BAH with NANKI-POO and PISH-TUSH.

                 Young man, despair,
                      Likewise go to,
                 Yum-Yum the fair
                      You must not woo.
                      It will not do:
                      I'm sorry for you,
                 You very imperfect ablutioner!
                      This very day
                           From school Yum-Yum
                      Will wend her way,
                           And homeward come,
                           With beat of drum
                           And a rum-tum-tum,
                 To wed the Lord High executioner!
                      And the brass will crash,
                           And the trumpets bray,
                      And they'll cut a dash
                           On their wedding day.
                 She'll toddle away, as all aver,
                 With the Lord High Executioner '

  NANK. and POOH.  And the brass will crash, etc.

                 It's a hopeless case,
                      As you may see,
                 And in your place
                      Away I'd flee;
                      But don't blame me—
                      I'm sorry to be
                 Of your pleasure a diminutioner.
                      They'll vow their pact
                           Extremely soon,
                      In point of fact
                           This afternoon.
                           Her honeymoon
                           With that buffoon
                 At seven commences, so you shun her!

  ALL.                And the brass will crash, etc.
                                                             [Exit
  Pish-Tush.

                       RECIT.—NANKI-POO and POOH-BAH.

  NANK.     And I have journeyed for a month, or nearly,
            To learn that Yum-Yum, whom I love so dearly,
            This day to Ko-Ko is to be united!
  POOH.     The fact appears to be as you've recited:
            But here he comes, equipped as suits his station;
            He'll give you any further information.
                                              [Exeunt Pooh-Bah and
  Nanki-Poo.

                           Enter Chorus of Nobles.

            Behold the Lord High Executioner
                 A personage of noble rank and title—
            A dignified and potent officer,
                 Whose functions are particularly vital!
                      Defer, defer,
                 To the Lord High Executioner!

                        Enter Ko-Ko attended.

                             SOLO—KO-KO.

       Taken from the county jail
            By a set of curious chances;
       Liberated then on bail,
            On my own recognizances;
       Wafted by a favouring gale
            As one sometimes is in trances,
       To a height that few can scale,
            Save by long and weary dances;
       Surely, never had a male
            Under such like circumstances
       So adventurous a tale,
            Which may rank with most romances.

  CHORUS.             Defer, defer,
            To the Lord High Executioner, etc.

       KO.  Gentlemen, I'm much touched by this reception.  I can
  only trust that by strict attention to duty I shall ensure a
  continuance of those favours which it will ever be my study to
  deserve.  If I should ever be called upon to act professionally,
  I am happy to think that there will be no difficulty in finding
  plenty of people whose loss will be a distinct gain to society at
  large.

               SONG—KO-KO with CHORUS OF MEN.

  As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
       I've got a little list—I've got a little list
  Of society offenders who might well be underground,
       And who never would be missed—who never would be missed!
  There's the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs—
  All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs—
  All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat—
  All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like
       that—
  And all third persons who on spoiling tte—ttes insist—
       They'd none of 'em be missed—they'd none of 'em be missed!

  CHORUS.   He's got 'em on the list—he's got 'em on the list;
                 And they'll none of 'em be missed—they'll none of
                      'em be missed.
  There's the banjo serenader, and the others of his race,
       And the piano-organist—I've got him on the list!
  And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face,
       They never would be missed—they never would be missed!
  Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
  All centuries but this, and every country but his own;
  And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,
  And who "doesn't think she waltzes, but would rather like to
       try";
  And that singular anomaly, the lady novelist—
       I don't think she'd be missed—I'm sure she'd not he missed!

  CHORUS.   He's got her on the list—he's got her on the list;
                 And I don't think she'll be missed—I'm sure
                      she'll not be missed!

  And that Nisi Prius nuisance, who just now is rather rife,
       The Judicial humorist—I've got him on the list!
  All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life—
       They'd none of 'em be missed—they'd none of 'em be missed.
  And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind,
  Such as—What d'ye call him—Thing'em-bob, and
       likewise—Never-mind,
  And 'St—'st—'st—and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who—
  The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you.
  But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list,
       For they'd none of 'em be missed—they'd none of 'em be
            missed!

  CHORUS.   You may put 'em on the list—you may put 'em on the
                 list;
                 And they'll none of 'em be missed—they'll none of
                      'em be missed!

                           Enter Pooh-Bah.

       KO.  Pooh-Bah, it seems that the festivities in connection
  with my approaching marriage must last a week.  I should like to
  do it handsomely, and I want to consult you as to the amount I
  ought to spend upon them.
       POOH.  Certainly.  In which of my capacities?  As First Lord
  of the Treasury, Lord Chamberlain, Attorney General, Chancellor
  of the Exchequer, Privy Purse, or Private Secretary?
       KO.  Suppose we say as Private Secretary.
       POOH.  Speaking as your Private Secretary, I should say
  that, as the city will have to pay for it, don't stint yourself,
  do it well.
       KO.  Exactly—as the city will have to pay for it.  That is
  your advice.
       POOH.  As Private Secretary.  Of course you will understand
  that, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, I am bound to see that due
  economy is observed.
       KO.  Oh!  But you said just now "Don't stint yourself, do it
  well".
       POOH.  As Private Secretary.
       KO.  And now you say that due economy must be observed.
       POOH.  As Chancellor of the Exchequer.
       KO.  I see.  Come over here, where the Chancellor can't hear
  us.  (They cross the stage.)  Now, as my Solicitor, how do you
  advise me to deal with this difficulty?
       POOH.  Oh, as your Solicitor, I should have no hesitation in
  saying "Chance it——"
       KO.  Thank you.  (Shaking his hand.)  I will.
       POOH.  If it were not that, as Lord Chief Justice, I am
  bound to see that the law isn't violated.
       KO.  I see.  Come over here where the Chief Justice can't
  hear us.  (They cross the stage.)  Now, then, as First Lord of
  the Treasury?
       POOH.  Of course, as First Lord of the Treasury, I could
  propose a special vote that would cover all expenses, if it were
  not that, as Leader of the Opposition, it would be my duty to
  resist it, tooth and nail.  Or, as Paymaster General, I could so
  cook the accounts that, as Lord High Auditor, I should never
  discover the fraud.  But then, as Archbishop of Titipu, it would
  be my duty to denounce my dishonesty and give myself into my own
  custody as first Commissioner of Police.
       KO.  That's extremely awkward.
       POOH.  I don't say that all these distinguished people
  couldn't be squared; but it is right to tell you that they
  wouldn't be sufficiently degraded in their own estimation unless
  they were insulted with a very considerable bribe.
       KO.  The matter shall have my careful consideration.  But my
  bride and her sisters approach, and any little compliment on your
  part, such as an abject grovel in a characteristic Japanese
  attitude, would be esteemed a favour.
       POOH.  No money, no grovel!
                                                            [Exeunt
  together.

  Enter procession of Yum-Yum's schoolfellows, heralding Yum-Yum,
       Peep-Bo, and Pitti-Sing.

                         CHORUS OF GIRLS.

            Comes a train of little ladies
                 From scholastic trammels free,
            Each a little bit afraid is,
                 Wondering what the world can be!

            Is it but a world of trouble—
                 Sadness set to song?
            Is its beauty but a bubble
                 Bound to break ere long?

            Are its palaces and pleasures
                 Fantasies that fade?
            And the glory of its treasures
                 Shadow of a shade?

            Schoolgirls we, eighteen and under,
                 From scholastic trammels free,
            And we wonder—how we wonder!—
                 What on earth the world can be!

                                TRIO.

        YUM-YUM, PEEP-BO, and PITTI-SING, with CHORUS OF GIRLS.

  THE THREE.     Three little maids from school are we,
            Pert as a school-girl well can be,
            Filled to the brim with girlish glee,
                 Three little maids from school!
  YUM-YUM.  Everything is a source of fun.  (Chuckle.)
  PEEP-BO.  Nobody's safe, for we care for none!  (Chuckle.)
  PITTI-SING.    Life is a joke that's just begun! (Chuckle.)
  THE THREE.     Three little maids from school!
  ALL (dancing). Three little maids who, all unwary,
                 Come from a ladies' seminary,
                 Freed from its genius tutelary—
  THE THREE (suddenly demure).  Three little maids from school!

  YUM-YUM.       One little maid is a bride, Yum-Yum—
  PEEP-BO.       Two little maids in attendance come—
  PITTI-SING.    Three little maids is the total sum.
  THE THREE.          Three little maids from school!
  YUM-YUM.       From three little maids take one away.
  PEEP-BO.       Two little maids remain, and they—
  PITTI-SING.    Won't have to wait very long, they say—
  THE THREE.          Three little maids from school!
  ALL (dancing). Three little maids who, all unwary,
                 Come from a ladies' seminary,
                 Freed from its genius tutelary—
  THE THREE (suddenly demure).  Three little maids from school!

                      Enter Ko-Ko and Pooh-Bah.

       KO.  At last, my bride that is to be!  (About to embrace
  her.)
       YUM.  You're not going to kiss me before all these people?
       KO.  Well, that was the idea.
       YUM (aside to Peep-Bo).  It seems odd, doesn't it?
       PEEP.  It's rather peculiar.
       PITTI.  Oh, I expect it's all right.  Must have a beginning,
  you know.
       YUM.  Well, of course I know nothing about these things; but
  I've no objection if it's usual.
       KO.  Oh, it's quite usual, I think.  Eh, Lord Chamberlain?
  (Appealing to Pooh-Bah.)
       POOH.  I have known it done.  (Ko-Ko embraces her.)
       YUM.  Thank goodness that's over!  (Sees Nanki-Poo, and
  rushes to him.)  Why, that's never you?  (The three Girls rush to
  him and shake his hands, all speaking at once.)
       YUM.  Oh, I'm so glad! I haven't seen you for ever so long,
  and I'm right at the top of the school, and I've got three
  prizes, and I've come home for good, and I'm not going back any
  more!
       PEEP.  And have you got an engagement?—Yum-Yum's got one,
  but she doesn't like it, and she'd ever so much rather it was
  you!  I've come home for good, and I'm not going back any more!
       PITTI.  Now tell us all the news, because you go about
  everywhere, and we've been at school, but, thank goodness, that's
  all over now, and we've come home for good, and we're not going
  back any more!

  (These three speeches are spoken together in one breath.)

       KO.  I beg your pardon.  Will you present me?
       YUM.  Oh, this is the musician who used—
       PEEP.  Oh, this is the gentleman-who used—
       PITTI.  Oh, it is only Nanki-Poo who used—
       KO.  One at a time, if you please.
       YUM.  Oh, if you please he's the gentleman who used to play
  so beautifully on the—on the—
       PITTI.  On the Marine Parade.
       YUM.  Yes, I think that was the name of the instrument.
       NANK.  Sir, I have the misfortune to love your ward,
  Yum-Yum—oh, I know I deserve your anger!
       KO.  Anger! not a bit, my boy.  Why, I love her myself.
  Charming little girl, isn't she?  Pretty eyes, nice hair.  Taking
  little thing, altogether.  Very glad to hear my opinion backed by
  a competent authority.  Thank you very much.  Good-bye.  (To
  Pish-Tush.)  Take him away.  (Pish-Tush removes him.)
       PITTI (who has been examining Pooh-Bah).  I beg your pardon,
  but what is this?  Customer come to try on?
       KO.  That is a Tremendous Swell.
       PITTI.  Oh, it's alive.  (She starts back in alarm.)
       POOH.  Go away, little girls.  Can't talk to little girls
  like you.  Go away, there's dears.
       KO.  Allow me to present you, Pooh-Bah.  These are my three
  wards.  The one in the middle is my bride elect.
       POOH.  What do you want me to do to them?  Mind, I will not
  kiss them.
       KO.  No, no, you shan't kiss them; a little bow—a mere
  nothing—you needn't mean it, you know.
       POOH.  It goes against the grain.  They are not young
  ladies, they are young persons.
       KO.  Come, come, make an effort, there's a good nobleman.
       POOH. (aside to Ko-Ko).  Well, I shan't mean it.  (with a
  great effort.)  How de do, little girls, how de do?  (Aside.)
  Oh, my protoplasmal ancestor!
       KO.  That's very good.  (Girls indulge in suppressed
  laughter.)
       POOH.  I see nothing to laugh at.  It is very painful to me
  to have to say "How de do, little girls, how de do?" to young
  persons.  I'm not in the habit of saying "How de do, little
  girls, how de do?" to anybody under the rank of a Stockbroker.
       KO.  (aside to girls).  Don't laugh at him, he can't help
  it—he's under treatment for it.  (Aside to Pooh-Bah.)  Never mind
  them, they don't understand the delicacy of your position.
       POOH.  We know how delicate it is, don't we?
       KO.  I should think we did!  How a nobleman of your
  importance can do it at all is a thing I never can, never shall
  understand.
                                                 [Ko-Ko retires and
  goes off.

                        QUARTET AND CHORUS OF GIRLS.

                 YUM-YUM, PEEP-BO, PITTI-SING, and POOH-BAH.

  YUM, PEEP.     So please you, Sir, we much regret
  and PITTI.     If we have failed in etiquette
                 Towards a man of rank so high—
                 We shall know better by and by.
  YUM.           But youth, of course, must have its fling,
                           So pardon us,
                           So pardon us,
  PITTI.         And don't, in girlhood's happy spring,
                           Be hard on us,
                           Be hard on us,
                 If we're inclined to dance and sing.
                           Tra la la, etc.  (Dancing.)
  CHORUS OF GIRLS.    But youth, of course, etc.
  POOH.          I think you ought to recollect
                 You cannot show too much respect
                 Towards the highly titled few;
                 But nobody does, and why should you?
                 That youth at us should have its fling,
                           Is hard on us,
                           Is hard on us;
                 To our prerogative we cling—
                           So pardon us,
                           So pardon us,
                 If we decline to dance and sing.
                           Tra la la, etc.  (Dancing.)
  CHORUS OF GIRLS..  But youth, of course, must have its fling, etc.

                                                     [Exeunt all but
  Yum-Yum.

                              Enter Nanki-Poo.

       NANK.  Yum-Yum, at last we are alone!  I have sought you
  night and day for three weeks, in the belief that your guardian
  was beheaded, and I find that you are about to be married to him
  this afternoon!
       YUM.  Alas, yes!
       NANK.  But you do not love him?
       YUM.  Alas, no!
       NANK.  Modified rapture!  But why do you not refuse him?
       YUM.  What good would that do?  He's my guardian, and he
  wouldn't let me marry you!
       NANK.  But I would wait until you were of age!
       YUM.  You forget that in Japan girls do not arrive at years
  of discretion until they are fifty.
       NANK.  True; from seventeen to forty-nine are considered
  years of indiscretion.
       YUM.  Besides—a wandering minstrel, who plays a wind
  instrument outside tea-houses, is hardly a fitting husband for
  the ward of a Lord High Executioner.
       NANK.  But—— (Aside.)  Shall I tell her?  Yes!  She will
  not betray me!  (Aloud.)  What if it should prove that, after
  all, I am no musician?
       YUM.  There!  I was certain of it, directly I heard you
  play!
       NANK.  What if it should prove that I am no other than the
  son of his Majesty the Mikado?
       YUM.  The son of the Mikado!  But why is your Highness
  disguised?  And what has your Highness done?  And will your
  Highness promise never to do it again?
       NANK.  Some years ago I had the misfortune to captivate
  Katisha, an elderly lady of my father's Court.  She misconstrued
  my customary affability into expressions of affection, and
  claimed me in marriage, under my father's law.  My father, the
  Lucius Junius Brutus of his race, ordered me to marry her within
  a week, or perish ignominiously on the scaffold.  That night I
  fled his Court, and, assuming the disguise of a Second Trombone,
  I joined the band in which you found me when I had the happiness
  of seeing you!  (Approaching her.)
       YUM.  (retreating).  If you please, I think your Highness
  had better not come too near.  The laws against flirting are
  excessively severe.
       NANK.  But we are quite alone, and nobody can see us.
       YUM.  Still, that don't make it right.  To flirt is capital.
       NANK.  It is capital!
       YUM.  And we must obey the law.
       NANK.  Deuce take the law!
       YUM.  I wish it would, but it won't!
       NANK.  If it were not for that, how happy we might be!
       YUM.  Happy indeed!
       NANK.  If it were not for the law, we should now be sitting
  side by side, like that.  (Sits by her.)
       YUM.  Instead of being obliged to sit half a mile off, like
  that.  (Crosses and sits at other side of stage.)
       NANK.  We should be gazing into each other's eyes, like
  that.  (Gazing at her sentimentally.)
       YUM.  Breathing sighs of unutterable love—like that.
  (Sighing and gazing lovingly at him.)
       NANK.  With our arms round each other's waists, like that.
  (Embracing her.)
       YUM.  Yes, if it wasn't for the law.
       NANK.  If it wasn't for the law.
       YUM.  As it is, of course we couldn't do anything of the
  kind.
       NANK.  Not for worlds!
       YUM.  Being engaged to Ko-Ko, you know!
       NANK.  Being engaged to Ko-Ko!

                     DUET—YUM-YUM and NANKI-POO.

  NANK.     Were you not to Ko-Ko plighted,
                 I would say in tender tone,
            "Loved one, let us be united—
                 Let us be each other's own!"
            I would merge all rank and station,
                 Worldly sneers are nought to us,
            And, to mark my admiration,
                 I would kiss you fondly thus— (Kisses her.)
  BOTH.     I/He would kiss you/me fondly thus— (Kiss.)
  YUM.      But as I'm engaged to Ko-Ko,
            To embrace you thus, con fuoco,
            Would distinctly be no giuoco,
            And for yam I should get toko—

  BOTH.          Toko, toko, toko, toko!

  NANK.     So, In spite of all temptation,
                 Such a theme I'll not discuss,
            And on no consideration
                 Will I kiss you fondly thus— (Kissing her.)
            Let me make it clear to you,
            This is what I'll never do!
                 This, oh, this, oh, this, oh, this,—(Kissing
                      her.)

  TOGETHER. This, oh, this, etc.

                                              [Exeunt in opposite
  directions.

                                Enter Ko-Ko.

       KO.  (looking after Yum-Yum).  There she goes!  To think how
  entirely my future happiness is wrapped up in that little parcel!
  Really, it hardly seems worth while!  Oh, matrimony!— (Enter
  Pooh-Bah and Pish-Tush.)  Now then, what is it?  Can't you see I'm
  soliloquizing?  You have interrupted an apostrophe, sir!
       PISH.  I am the bearer of a letter from his Majesty the
  Mikado.
       KO.  (taking it from him reverentially).  A letter from the
  Mikado!  What in the world can he have to say to me?  (Reads
  letter.)  Ah, here it is at last!  I thought it would come sooner
  or later!  The Mikado is struck by the fact that no executions
  have taken place in Titipu for a year, and decrees that unless
  somebody is beheaded within one month the post of Lord High
  Executioner shall be abolished, and the city reduced to the rank
  of a village!
       PISH.   But that will involve us all in irretrievable ruin!
       KO.  Yes.  There is no help for it, I shall have to execute
  somebody at once.  The only question is, who shall it be?
       POOH.  Well, it seems unkind to say so, but as you're
  already under sentence of death for flirting, everything seems to
  point to you.
       KO.  To me?  What are you talking about?  I can't execute
  myself.
       POOH.  Why not?
       KO.  Why not?   Because, in the first place, self
  decapitation is an extremely difficult, not to say dangerous,
  thing to attempt; and, in the second, it's suicide, and suicide
  is a capital offence.
       POOH.  That is so, no doubt.
       PISH.  We might reserve that point.
       POOH.  True, it could be argued six months hence, before the
  full Court.
       KO.  Besides, I don't see how a man can cut off his own
  head.
       POOH.  A man might try.
       PISH.  Even if you only succeeded in cutting it half off,
  that would be something.
       POOH.  It would be taken as an earnest of your desire to
  comply with the Imperial will.
       KO.  No.  Pardon me, but there I am adamant.  As official
  Headsman, my reputation is at stake, and I can't consent to
  embark on a professional operation unless I see my way to a
  successful result.
       POOH.  This professional conscientiousness is highly
  creditable to you, but it places us in a very awkward position.
       KO.  My good sir, the awkwardness of your position is grace
  itself compared with that of a man engaged in the act of cutting
  off his own head.
       PISH.  I am afraid that, unless you can obtain a substitute
  ——
       KO.  A substitute?  Oh, certainly—nothing easier.  (To
  Pooh-Bah.)  Pooh-Bah, I appoint you Lord High Substitute.
       POOH.  I should be delighted.  Such an appointment would
  realize my fondest dreams.  But no, at any sacrifice, I must set
  bounds to my insatiable ambition!

                                     TRIO

        Ko-Ko                     Pooh-Bah                Pish-Tush

  My brain it teams          I am so proud,            I heard one
  day
  With endless schemes       If I allowed              A gentleman
  say
  Both good and new          My family pride           That criminals
  who
  For Titipu;                To be my guide,           Are cut in two
  But if I flit,             I'd volunteer             Can hardly
  feel
  The benefit                To quit this sphere       The fatal
  steel,
  That I'd diffuse           Instead of you            And so are
  slain
  The town would lose!       In a minute or two,       Without much
  pain.
  Now every man              But family pride          If this is
  true,
  To aid his clan            Must be denied,           It's jolly for
  you;
  Should plot and plan       And set aside,            Your courage
  screw
  As best he can,            And mortified.            To bid us
  adieu,
       And so,                     And so,                  And go
       Although                    Although                 And show
  I'm ready to go,           I wish to go,              Both friend
  and foe
  Yet recollect              And greatly pine           How much you
  dare.
  'Twere disrespect          To brightly shine,         I'm quite
  aware
  Did I neglect              And take the line          It's your
  affair,
  To thus effect             Of a hero fine,            Yet I declare
  This aim direct,           With grief condign         I'd take your
  share,
  So I object—              I must decline—           But I don't
  much care—
  So I object—              I must decline—           I don't much
  care—
  So I object—              I must decline—           I don't much
  care—
  ALL. To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock,
       In a pestilential prison, with a life-long lock,
       Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock,
       From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block!
                                                      [Exeunt Pooh.
  and Pish.

       KO.  This is simply appalling!  I, who allowed myself to be
  respited at the last moment, simply in order to benefit my native
  town, am now required to die within a month, and that by a man
  whom I have loaded with honours!  Is this public gratitude?  Is
  this—-  (Enter Nanki-Poo, with a rope in his hands.)  Go away,
  sir!  How dare you?  Am I never to be permitted to soliloquize?
       NANK.  Oh, go on—don't mind me.
       KO.  What are you going to do with that rope?
       NANK.  I am about to terminate an unendurabIe existence.
       KO.  Terminate your existence?  Oh, nonsense!  What for?
       NANK.  Because you are going to marry the girl I adore.
       KO.  Nonsense, sir.  I won't permit it.  I am a humane man,
  and if you attempt anything of the kind I shall order your
  instant arrest.  Come, sir, desist at once or I summon my guard.
       NANK.  That's absurd.  If you attempt to raise an alarm, I
  instantly perform the Happy Despatch with this dagger.
       KO.  No, no, don't do that.  This is horrible!  (Suddenly.)
  Why, you cold-blooded scoundrel, are you aware that, in taking
  your life, you are committing a crime which—which—which is——
  Oh!  (Struck by an idea.)  Substitute!
       NANK.  What's the matter?
       KO.  Is it absolutely certain that you are resolved to die?
       NANK.  Absolutely!
       KO.  Will nothing shake your resolution?
       NANK.  Nothing.
       KO.  Threats, entreaties, prayers—all useless?
       NANK.  All!  My mind is made up.
       KO.  Then, if you really mean what you say, and if you are
  absolutely resolved to die, and if nothing whatever will shake
  your determination—don't spoil yourself by committing suicide,
  but be beheaded handsomely at the hands of the Public
  Executioner!
       NANK.  I don't see how that would benefit me.
       KO.  You don't?  Observe: you'll have a month to live, and
  you'll live like a fighting-cock at my expense.  When the day
  comes there'll be a grand public ceremonial—you'll be the
  central figure—no one will attempt to deprive you of that
  distinction.  There'll be a procession—bands—dead march—bells
  tolling—all the girls in tears—Yum-Yum distracted—then, when
  it's all over, general rejoicings, and a display of fireworks in
  the evening.  You won't see them, but they'll be there all the
  same.
       NANK.  Do you think Yum-Yum would really be distracted at my
  death?
       KO.  I am convinced of it.  Bless you, she's the most
  tender-hearted little creature alive.
       NANK.  I should be sorry to cause her pain.  Perhaps, after
  all, if I were to withdraw from Japan, and travel in Europe for a
  couple of years, I might contrive to forget her.
       KO.  Oh, I don't think you could forget Yum-Yum so easily;
  and, after all, what is more miserable than a love-blighted life?
       NANK.  True.
       KO.  Life without Yum-Yum—why, it seems absurd!
       NANK.  And yet there are a good many people in the world who
  have to endure it.
       KO.  Poor devils, yes!  You are quite right not to be of
  their number.
       NANK.  (suddenly).  I won't be of their number!
       KO.  Noble fellow!
       NANK.  I'll tell you how we'll manage it.  Let me marry
  Yum-Yum to-morrow, and in a month you may behead me.
       KO.  No, no.  I draw the line at Yum-Yum.
       NANK.  Very good.  If you can draw the line, so can I.
  (Preparing rope.)
       KO.  Stop, stop—listen one moment—be reasonable.  How can
  I consent to your marrying Yum-Yum if I'm going to marry her
  myself?
       NANK.  My good friend, she'll be a widow in a month, and you
  can marry her then.
       KO.  That's true, of course.  I quite see that.  But, dear
  me! my position during the next month will be most
  unpleasant—most unpleasant.
       NANK.  Not half so unpleasant as my position at the end of
  it.
       KO.  But—dear me!—well—I agree—after all, it's only
  putting off my wedding for a month.  But you won't prejudice her
  against me, will you?  You see, I've educated her to be my wife;
  she's been taught to regard me as a wise and good man.  Now I
  shouldn't like her views on that point disturbed.
       NANK.  Trust me, she shall never learn the truth from me.

                                   FINALE.

                   Enter Chorus, Pooh-Bah, and Pish-Tush.

                                   CHORUS.

                      With aspect stern
                           And gloomy stride,
                      We come to learn
                           How you decide.

                      Don't hesitate
                           Your choice to name,
                      A dreadful fate
                           You'll suffer all the same.

  POOH.     To ask you what you mean to do we punctually appear.
  KO.       Congratulate me, gentlemen, I've found a Volunteer!
  ALL.      The Japanese equivalent for Hear, Hear, Hear!
  KO. (presenting him).    'Tis Nanki-Poo!
  ALL.                     Hail, Nanki-Poo!
  KO.                      I think he'll do?
  ALL.                     Yes, yes, he'll do!

  KO.       He yields his life if I'll Yum-Yum surrender.
            Now I adore that girl with passion tender,
            And could not yield her with a ready will,
                      Or her allot,
                      If I did not
            Adore myself with passion tenderer still!

               Enter Yum-Yum, Peep-Bo, and Pitti-Sing.

  ALL.                Ah, yes!
            He loves himself with passion tenderer still!
  KO.  (to Nanki-Poo).          Take her—she's yours!

  [Exit Ko-Ko

                                  ENSEMBLE.

  NANKI-POO.     The threatened cloud has passed away,
  YUM-YUM.       And brightly shines the dawning day;
  NANKI-POO.     What though the night may come too soon,
  YUM-YUM.       There's yet a month of afternoon!

                NANKI-POO, POOH-BAH, YUM-YUM, PITTI-SING,
                               and PEEP-BO.

                      Then let the throng
                           Our joy advance,
                      With laughing song
                           And merry dance,

  CHORUS.        With joyous shout and ringing cheer,
                 Inaugurate our brief career!

  PITTI-SING.    A day, a week, a month, a year—
  YUM.           Or far or near, or far or near,
  POOH.          Life's eventime comes much too soon,
  PITTI-SING.    You'll live at least a honeymoon!

  ALL.           Then let the throng, etc.

  CHORUS.        With joyous shout, etc.

                         SOLO—POOH-BAH.

            As in a month you've got to die,
                 If Ko-Ko tells us true,
            'Twere empty compliment to cry
                 "Long life to Nanki-Poo!"
            But as one month you have to live
                 As fellow-citizen,
            This toast with three times three we'll give—
                 "Long life to you—till then!"

                                                              [Exit
  Pooh-Bah.

  CHORUS.   May all good fortune prosper you,
            May you have health and riches too,
            May you succeed in all you do!
                 Long life to you—till then!

                              (Dance.)

                  Enter Katisha melodramatically

  KAT.      Your revels cease!  Assist me, all of you!
  CHORUS.   Why, who is this whose evil eyes
            Rain blight on our festivities?
  KAT.      I claim my perjured lover, Nanki-Poo!
            Oh, fool! to shun delights that never cloy!
  CHORUS.   Go, leave thy deadly work undone!
  KAT.      Come back, oh, shallow fool! come back to joy!
  CHORUS.   Away, away! ill-favoured one!

  NANK.  (aside to Yum-Yum).  Ah!
                 'Tis Katisha!
            The maid of whom I told you.  (About to go.)

  KAT. (detaining him).   No!
            You shall not go,
            These arms shall thus enfold you!

                          SONG—KATISHA.

  KAT.  (addressing Nanki-Poo).
            Oh fool, that fleest
                 My hallowed joys!
            Oh blind, that seest
                 No equipoise!
            Oh rash, that judgest
                 From half, the whole!
            Oh base, that grudgest
                 Love's lightest dole!
                      Thy heart unbind,
                      Oh fool, oh blind!
                      Give me my place,
                      Oh rash, oh base!

  CHORUS.   If she's thy bride, restore her place,
            Oh fool, oh blind, oh rash, oh base!

  KAT.  (addressing Yum-Yum).
                 Pink cheek, that rulest
                      Where wisdom serves!
                 Bright eye, that foolest
                      Heroic nerves!
                 Rose lip, that scornest
                      Lore-laden years!
                 Smooth tongue, that warnest
                      Who rightly hears!
                           Thy doom is nigh.
                           Pink cheek, bright eye!
                           Thy knell is rung,
                           Rose lip, smooth tongue!

  CHORUS.        If true her tale, thy knell is rung,
                 Pink cheek, bright eye, rose lip, smooth tongue!

  PITTI-SING.    Away, nor prosecute your quest—
                 From our intention, well expressed,
                      You cannot turn us!
                 The state of your connubial views
                 Towards the person you accuse
                      Does not concern us!
                 For he's going to marry Yum-Yum—
  ALL.                               Yum-Yum!
  PITTI.              Your anger pray bury,
                      For all will be merry,
                 I think you had better succumb—
  ALL.                               Cumb—cumb!
  PITTI.              And join our expressions of glee.
                 On this subject I pray you be dumb—
  ALL.                               Dumb—dumb.
  PITTI.              You'll find there are many
                      Who'll wed for a penny—
                 The word for your guidance is "Mum"—
  ALL.                               Mum—mum!
  PITTI.         There's lots of good fish in the sea!

  ALL.           On this subject we pray you be dumb, etc.

                             SOLO—KATISHA.

                 The hour of gladness
                      Is dead and gone;
                 In silent sadness
                      I live alone!
                 The hope I cherished
                      All lifeless lies,
                 And all has perished
                      Save love, which never dies!
            Oh, faithless one, this insult you shall rue!
            In vain for mercy on your knees you'll sue.
            I'll tear the mask from your disguising!

  NANK.  (aside).          Now comes the blow!
  KAT.           Prepare yourselves for news surprising!
  NANK.  (aside).          How foil my foe?
  KAT.           No minstrel he, despite bravado!
  YUM.  (aside, struck by an idea).  Ha! ha! I know!
  KAT.           He is the son of your——

  (Nanki-Poo, Yum-Yum, and Chorus, interrupting, sing Japanese words,
       to drown her voice.)

                 O ni! bikkuri shakkuri to!
  KAT.      In vain you interrupt with this tornado!
            He is the only son of your——
  ALL.           O ni! bikkuri shakkuri to!
  KAT.      I'll spoil——
  ALL.           O ni! bikkuri shakkuri to!
  KAT.                     Your gay gambado!
            He is the son——
  ALL.           O ni! bikkuri shakkuri to!
  KAT.                     Of your——
  ALL.           O ni! bikkuri shakkuri to!
  KAT.      The son of your——
  ALL.           O ni! bikkuri shakkuri to! oya! oya!

                                    ENSEMBLE.
                  KATISHA.                        THE OTHERS.

       Ye torrents roar!                       We'll hear no more,
            Ye tempests howl!                       Ill-omened owl.
       Your wrath outpour                      To joy we soar,
            With angry growl!                       Despite your
  scowl!
  Do ye your worst, my vengeance           The echoes of our festival
       call
  Shall rise triumphant over all!          Shall rise triumphant over
  all!
       Prepare for woe,                         Away you go,
            Ye haughty lords,                        Collect your
  hordes;
       At once I go                             Proclaim your woe
            Mikado-wards,                             In dismal
  chords
  My wrongs with vengeance shall           We do not heed their
  dismal
       be crowned!                              sound
  My wrongs with vengeance shall           For joy reigns everywhere
       be crowned!                              around.

  (Katisha rushes furiously up stage, clearing the crowd away right
       and left, finishing on steps at the back of stage.)

                                END OF ACT I.





ACT II.
                           SCENE.—Ko-Ko's Garden.

  Yum-Yum discovered seated at her bridal toilet, surrounded by
       maidens, who are dressing her hair and painting her face and
       lips, as she judges of the effect in a mirror.

                    SOLO—PITTI-SING and CHORUS OF GIRLS.

  CHORUS.        Braid the raven hair—
                      Weave the supple tress—
                 Deck the maiden fair
                      In her loveliness—
                 Paint the pretty face—
                      Dye the coral lip—
                 Emphasize the grace
                      Of her ladyship!
                 Art and nature, thus allied,
                 Go to make a pretty bride.

                           SOLO—PITTI-SING.

                 Sit with downcast eye
                      Let it brim with dew—
                 Try if you can cry—
                      We will do so, too.
                 When you're summoned, start
                      Like a frightened roe—
                 Flutter, little heart,
                      Colour, come and go!
                 Modesty at marriage-tide
                 Well becomes a pretty bride!

                               CHORUS.

                 Braid the raven hair, etc.

                                     [Exeunt Pitti-Sing, Peep-Bo, and
  Chorus.

       YUM.  Yes, I am indeed beautiful!  Sometimes I sit and
  wonder, in my artless Japanese way, why it is that I am so much
  more attractive than anybody else in the whole world.  Can this
  be vanity?  No!  Nature is lovely and rejoices in her loveliness.
  I am a child of Nature, and take after my mother.

                            SONG—YUM-YUM.

                 The sun, whose rays
                 Are all ablaze
                      With ever-living glory,
                 Does not deny
                 His majesty—
                      He scorns to tell a story!
                 He don't exclaim,
                      "I blush for shame,
                      So kindly be indulgent."
                 But, fierce and bold,
                 In fiery gold,
                      He glories effulgent!

                      I mean to rule the earth,
                           As he the sky—
                      We really know our worth,
                           The sun and I!

                 Observe his flame,
                 That placid dame,
                      The moon's Celestial Highness;
                 There's not a trace
                 Upon her face
                      Of diffidence or shyness:
                 She borrows light
                 That, through the night,
                      Mankind may all acclaim her!
                 And, truth to tell,
                 She lights up well,
                      So I, for one, don't blame her!

                      Ah, pray make no mistake,
                           We are not shy;
                      We're very wide awake,
                           The moon and I!

                   Enter Pitti-Sing and Peep-Bo.

       YUM.  Yes, everything seems to smile upon me.  I am to be
  married to-day to the man I love best and I believe I am the very
  happiest girl in Japan!
       PEEP.  The happiest girl indeed, for she is indeed to be
  envied who has attained happiness in all but perfection.
       YUM.  In "all but" perfection?
       PEEP.  Well, dear, it can't be denied that the fact that
  your husband is to be beheaded in a month is, in its way, a
  drawback.  It does seem to take the top off it, you know.
       PITTI.  I don't know about that.  It all depends!
       PEEP.  At all events, he will find it a drawback.
       PITTI.  Not necessarily.  Bless you, it all depends!
       YUM.  (in tears).  I think it very indelicate of you to
  refer to such a subject on such a day.  If my married happiness
  is to be—to be—
       PEEP.  Cut short.
       YUM.  Well, cut short—in a month, can't you let me forget
  it?  (Weeping.)

                 Enter Nanki-Poo, followed by Go-To.

       NANK.  Yum-Yum in tears—and on her wedding morn!
       YUM.  (sobbing).  They've been reminding me that in a month
  you're to be beheaded!  (Bursts into tears.)
       PITTI.  Yes, we've been reminding her that you're to be
  beheaded.  (Bursts into tears.)
       PEEP.  It's quite true, you know, you are to be beheaded!
  (Bursts into tears.)
       NANK.  (aside).  Humph!  Now, some bridegrooms would be
  depressed by this sort of thing!  (Aloud.)  A month?  Well,
  what's a month?  Bah!  These divisions of time are purely
  arbitrary.  Who says twenty-four hours make a day?
       PITTI.  There's a popular impression to that effect.
       NANK.  Then we'll efface it.  We'll call each second a
  minute—each minute an hour—each hour a day—and each day a
  year.  At that rate we've about thirty years of married happiness
  before us!
       PEEP.  And, at that rate, this interview has already lasted
  four hours and three-quarters!
                                                               [Exit
  Peep-Bo.
       YUM.  (still sobbing).  Yes.  How time flies when one is
  thoroughly enjoying oneself!
       NANK.  That's the way to look at it!  Don't let's be
  downhearted!  There's a silver lining to every cloud.
       YUM.  Certainly.  Let's—let's be perfectly happy!  (Almost
  in tears.)
       GO-TO.  By all means.  Let's—let's thoroughly enjoy
  ourselves.
       PITTI.  It's—it's absurd to cry!  (Trying to force a
  laugh.)
       YUM.  Quite ridiculous!  (Trying to laugh.)

                (All break into a forced and melancholy laugh.)

                                  MADRIGAL.

                YUM-YUM, PITTI-SING, NANKI-POO, and PISH-TUSH

            Brightly dawns our wedding day;
                 Joyous hour, we give thee greeting!
                 Whither, whither art thou fleeting?
            Fickle moment, prithee stay!
                 What though mortal joys be hollow?
                 Pleasures come, if sorrows follow:
            Though the tocsin sound, ere long,
                 Ding dong!  Ding dong!
            Yet until the shadows fall
            Over one and over all,
            Sing a merry madrigal—
                                A madrigal!

            Fal-la—fal-la! etc.  (Ending in tears.)

            Let us dry the ready tear,
                 Though the hours are surely creeping
                 Little need for woeful weeping,
            Till the sad sundown is near.
                 All must sip the cup of sorrow—
                 I to-day and thou to-morrow;
            This the close of every song—
                 Ding dong!  Ding dong!
            What, though solemn shadows fall,
            Sooner, later, over all?
            Sing a merry madrigal—
                                A madrigal!

            Fal-la—fal-la! etc.  (Ending in tears.)

                                            [Exeunt Pitti-Sing and
  Pish-Tush.

  (Nanki-Poo embraces Yum-Yum.  Enter Ko-Ko.  Nanki-Poo releases
       Yum-Yum.)

       KO.  Go on—don't mind me.
       NANK.  I'm afraid we're distressing you.
       KO.  Never mind, I must get used to it.  Only please do it
  by degrees.  Begin by putting your arm round her waist.
  (Nanki-Poo does so.)  There; let me get used to that first.
       YUM.  Oh, wouldn't you like to retire?  It must pain you to
  see us so affectionate together!
       KO.  No, I must learn to bear it!  Now oblige me by allowing
  her head to rest on your shoulder.
       NANK.  Like that?  (He does so.  Ko-Ko much affected.)
       KO.  I am much obliged to you.  Now—kiss her!  (He does so.
  Ko-Ko writhes with anguish.)  Thank you—it's simple torture!
       YUM.  Come, come, bear up.  After all, it's only for a
  month.
       KO.  No.  It's no use deluding oneself with false hopes.
       NANK. and YUM.  What do you mean?
       KO.  (to Yum-Yum).  My child—my poor child!  (Aside.)  How
  shall I break it to her?  (Aloud.)  My little bride that was to
  have been?
       YUM.  (delighted).  Was to have been?
       KO.  Yes, you never can be mine!
       NANK. and YUM. (simultaneously, in ecstacy)  What!/I'm so
  glad!
       KO.  I've just ascertained that, by the Mikado's law, when a
  married man is beheaded his wife is buried alive.
       NANK. and YUM.  Buried alive!
       KO.  Buried alive.  It's a most unpleasant death.
       NANK.  But whom did you get that from?
       KO.  Oh, from Pooh-Bah.  He's my Solicitor.
       YUM.  But he may be mistaken!
       KO.  So I thought; so I consulted the Attorney General, the
  Lord Chief Justice, the Master of the Rolls, the Judge Ordinary,
  and the Lord Chancellor.  They're all of the same opinion.  Never
  knew such unanimity on a point of law in my life!
       NANK.  But stop a bit!  This law has never been put in
  force.
       KO.  Not yet.  You see, flirting is the only crime
  punishable with decapitation, and married men never flirt.
       NANK.  Of course, they don't.  I quite forgot that!  Well, I
  suppose I may take it that my dream of happiness is at an end!
       YUM.  Darling—I don't want to appear selfish, and I love
  you with all my heart—I don't suppose I shall ever love anybody
  else half as much—but when I agreed to marry you—my own—I had
  no idea—pet—that I should have to be buried alive in a month!
       NANK.  Nor I!  It's the very first I've heard of it!
       YUM.  It—it makes a difference, doesn't it?
       NANK.  It does make a difference, of course.
       YUM.  You see—burial alive—it's such a stuffy death!
       NANK.  I call it a beast of a death.
       YUM.  You see my difficulty, don't you?
       NANK.  Yes, and I see my own.  If I insist on your carrying
  out your promise, I doom you to a hideous death; if I release
  you, you marry Ko-Ko at once!

                  TRIO.—YUM-YUM, NANKI-POO, and KO-KO.

  YUM.           Here's a how-de-do!
                 If I marry you,
            When your time has come to perish,
            Then the maiden whom you cherish
                 Must be slaughtered, too!
                 Here's a how-de-do!

  NANK.          Here's a pretty mess!
                 In a month, or less,
            I must die without a wedding!
            Let the bitter tears I'm shedding
                 Witness my distress,
                 Here's a pretty mess!

  KO.            Here's a state of things
                 To her life she clings!
            Matrimonial devotion
            Doesn't seem to suit her notion—
                 Burial it brings!
                 Here's a state of things!

                               ENSEMBLE

       YUM-YUM and NANKI-POO.                        KO-KO.

  With a passion that's intense           With a passion that's
  intense
       I worship and adore,                    You worship and adore,
  But the laws of common sense            But the laws of common
  sense
       We oughtn't to ignore.                  You oughtn't to
  ignore.
  If what he says is true,                If what I say is true,
       'Tis death to marry you!                'Tis death to marry
  you!
  Here's a pretty state of things!        Here's a pretty state of
  things!
       Here's a pretty how-de-do!              Here's a pretty
  how-de-do!

                                                               [Exit
  Yum-Yum.

       KO.  (going up to Nanki-Poo).  My poor  boy, I'm really very
  sorry for you.
       NANK.  Thanks, old fellow.  I'm sure you are.
       KO.  You see I'm quite helpless.
       NANK.  I quite see that.
       KO.  I can't conceive anything more distressing than to have
  one's marriage broken off at the last moment.  But you shan't be
  disappointed of a wedding—you shall come to mine.
       NANK.  It's awfully kind of you, but that's impossible.
       KO.  Why so?
       NANK.  To-day I die.
       KO.  What do you mean?
       NANK.  I can't live without Yum-Yum.  This afternoon I
  perform the Happy Despatch.
       KO.  No, no—pardon me—I can't allow that.
       NANK.  Why not?
       KO.  Why, hang it all, you're under contract to die by the
  hand of the Public Executioner in a month's time!  If you kill
  yourself, what's to become of me?  Why, I shall have to be
  executed in your place!
       NANK.  It would certainly seem so!

                              Enter Pooh-Bah.

       KO.  Now then, Lord Mayor, what is it?
       POOH.  The Mikado and his suite are approaching the city,
  and will be here in ten minutes.
       KO.  The Mikado!  He's coming to see whether his orders have
  been carried out! (To Nanki-Poo.)  Now look here, you know—this
  is getting serious—a bargain's a bargain, and you really mustn't
  frustrate the ends of justice by committing suicide.  As a man of
  honour and a gentleman, you are bound to die ignominiously by the
  hands of the Public Executioner.
       NANK.  Very well, then—behead me.
       KO.  What, now?
       NANK.  Certainly; at once.
       POOH.  Chop it off!  Chop it off!
       KO.  My good sir, I don't go about prepared to execute
  gentlemen at a moment's notice.  Why, I never even killed a
  blue-bottle!
       POOH.  Still, as Lord High Executioner——
       KO.  My good sir, as Lord High Executioner, I've got to
  behead him in a month.  I'm not ready yet.  I don't know how it's
  done.  I'm going to take lessons.  I mean to begin with a guinea
  pig, and work my way through the animal kingdom till I come to a
  Second Trombone.  Why, you don't suppose that, as a humane man,
  I'd have accepted the post of Lord High Executioner if I hadn't
  thought the duties were purely nominal?  I can't kill you—I
  can't kill anything! I can't kill anybody!  (Weeps.)
       NANK.  Come, my poor fellow, we all have unpleasant duties
  to discharge at times; after all, what is it?  If I don't mind,
  why should you?  Remember, sooner or later it must be done.
       KO.  (springing up suddenly).  Must it?  I'm not so sure
  about that!
       NANK.  What do you mean?
       KO.  Why should I kill you when making an affidavit that
  you've been executed will do just as well?  Here are plenty of
  witnesses—the Lord Chief Justice, Lord High Admiral,
  Commander-in-Chief, Secretary of State for the Home Department,
  First Lord of the Treasury, and Chief Commissioner of Police.
       NANK.  But where are they?
       KO.  There they are.  They'll all swear to it—won't you?
  (To Pooh-Bah.)
       POOH.  Am I to understand that all of us high Officers of
  State are required to perjure ourselves to ensure your safety?
       KO.  Why not!  You'll be grossly insulted, as usual.
       POOH.  Will the insult be cash down, or at a date?
       KO.  It will be a ready-money transaction.
       POOH.  (Aside.) Well, it will be a useful discipline.
  (Aloud.)  Very good.  Choose your fiction, and I'll endorse it!
  (Aside.)  Ha! ha!  Family Pride, how do you like that, my buck?
       NANK.  But I tell you that life without Yum-Yum——
       KO.  Oh, Yum-Yum, Yum-Yum! Bother Yum-Yum!  Here,
  Commissionaire (to Pooh-Bah), go and fetch Yum-Yum.  (Exit
  Pooh-Bah.)  Take Yum-Yum and marry Yum-Yum, only go away and never
  come back again.  (Enter Pooh-Bah with Yum-Yum.)  Here she is.
  Yum-Yum, are you particularly busy?
       YUM.  Not particularly.
       KO.  You've five minutes to spare?
       YUM.  Yes.
       KO.  Then go along with his Grace the Archbishop of Titipu;
  he'll marry you at once.
       YUM.  But if I'm to be buried alive?
       KO.  Now, don't ask any questions, but do as I tell you, and
  Nanki-Poo will explain all.
       NANK.  But one moment——
       KO.  Not for worlds.  Here comes the Mikado, no doubt to
  ascertain whether I've obeyed his decree, and if he finds you
  alive I shall have the greatest difficulty in persuading him that
  I've beheaded you.  (Exeunt Nanki-Poo and Yum-Yum, followed by
  Pooh-Bah.)  Close thing that, for here he comes!

  [Exit Ko-Ko.

  March.—Enter procession, heralding Mikado, with Katisha.

                       Entrance of Mikado and Katisha.

                      ("March of the Mikado's troops.")

  CHORUS.             Miya sama, miya sama,
                      On n'm-ma no maye ni
                      Pira-Pira suru no wa
                      Nan gia na
                      Toko tonyare tonyare na?

                        DUET—MIKADO and KATISHA.

  MIK.           From every kind of man
                      Obedience I expect;
                 I'm the Emperor of Japan—

  KAT.           And I'm his daughter-in-law elect!
                      He'll marry his son
                      (He's only got one)
                 To his daughter-in-law elect!

  MIK.           My morals have been declared
                      Particularly correct;

  KAT.           But they're nothing at all, compared
                      With those of his daughter-in-law elect!
                           Bow—Bow—
                      To his daughter-in-law elect!

  ALL.                     Bow—Bow—
                      To his daughter-in-law elect.

  MIK.           In a fatherly kind of way
                      I govern each tribe and sect,
                 All cheerfully own my sway—

  KAT.                Except his daughter-in-law elect!
                           As tough as a bone,
                           With a will of her own,
                      Is his daughter-in-law elect!

  MIK.           My nature is love and light—
                      My freedom from all defect—

  KAT.           Is insignificant quite,
                      Compared with his daughter-in-law elect!
                           Bow—Bow—
                      To his daughter-in-law elect!

  ALL.                     Bow—Bow—
                      To his daughter-in-law elect!

                        SONG—MIKADO and CHORUS.

                 A more humane Mikado never
                      Did in Japan exist,
                           To nobody second,
                           I'm certainly reckoned
                      A true philanthropist.
                 It is my very humane endeavour
                      To make, to some extent,
                           Each evil liver
                           A running river
                      Of harmless merriment.

                      My object all sublime
                      I shall achieve in time—
                 To let the punishment fit the crime—
                           The punishment fit the crime;
                      And make each prisoner pent
                      Unwillingly represent
                 A source of innocent merriment!
                      Of innocent merriment!

                 All prosy dull society sinners,
                      Who chatter and bleat and bore,
                           Are sent to hear sermons
                           From mystical Germans
                      Who preach from ten till four.
                 The amateur tenor, whose vocal villainies
                      All desire to shirk,
                           Shall, during off-hours,
                           Exhibit his powers
                      To Madame Tussaud's waxwork.

                 The lady who dyes a chemical yellow
                      Or stains her grey hair puce,
                           Or pinches her figure,
                           Is painted with vigour
                      With permanent walnut juice.
                 The idiot who, in railway carriages,
                      Scribbles on window-panes,
                           We only suffer
                           To ride on a buffer
                      In Parliamentary trains.

                           My object all sublime, etc.

  CHORUS.                  His object all sublime, etc.

                 The advertising quack who wearies
                      With tales of countless cures,
                           His teeth, I've enacted,
                           Shall all be extracted
                      By terrified amateurs.
                 The music-hall singer attends a series
                      Of masses and fugues and "ops"
                           By Bach, interwoven
                           With Spohr and Beethoven,
                      At classical Monday Pops.

                 The billiard sharp who any one catches,
                      His doom's extremely hard—
                           He's made to dwell—
                           In a dungeon cell
                      On a spot that's always barred.
                 And there he plays extravagant matches
                      In fitless finger-stalls
                           On a cloth untrue
                           With a twisted cue
                      And elliptical billiard balls!

                           My object all sublime, etc.

  CHORUS.             His object all sublime, etc.

               Enter Pooh-Bah, Ko-Ko, and Pitti-Sing.  All kneel

                     (Pooh-Bah hands a paper to Ko-Ko.)

       KO.  I am honoured in being permitted to welcome your
  Majesty.  I guess the object of your Majesty's visit—your wishes
  have been attended to.  The execution has taken place.
       MIK.  Oh, you've had an execution, have you?
       KO.  Yes.  The Coroner has just handed me his certificate.
       POOH.  I am the Coroner.  (Ko-Ko hands certificate to
  Mikado.)
       MIK.  And this is the certificate of his death.  (Reads.)
  "At Titipu, in the presence of the Lord Chancellor, Lord Chief
  Justice, Attorney-General, Secretary of State for the Home
  Department, Lord Mayor, and Groom of the Second Floor Front——"
       POOH.  They were all present, your Majesty.  I counted them
  myself.
       MIK.  Very good house.  I wish I'd been in time for the
  performance.
       KO.  A tough fellow he was, too—a man of gigantic strength.
  His struggles were terrific.  It was a remarkable scene.
       MIK.  Describe it.

                             TRIO and CHORUS.

                   KO-KO, PITTI-SING, POOH-BAH and CHORUS.

  KO.       The criminal cried, as he dropped him down,
                 In a state of wild alarm—
            With a frightful, frantic, fearful frown,
                 I bared my big right arm.
            I seized him by his little pig-tail,
                 And on his knees fell he,
                      As he squirmed and struggled,
                      And gurgled and guggled,
                 I drew my snickersnee!
                      Oh, never shall I
                      Forget the cry,
                 Or the shriek that shrieked he,
                      As I gnashed my teeth,
                      When from its sheath
                 I drew my snickersnee!

  CHORUS.

                      We know him well,
                      He cannot tell
                 Untrue or groundless tales—
                      He always tries
                      To utter lies,
                 And every time he fails.

  PITTI.    He shivered and shook as he gave the sign
                 For the stroke he didn't deserve;
            When all of a sudden his eye met mine,
                 And it seemed to brace his nerve;
            For he nodded his head and kissed his hand,
                 And he whistled an air, did he,
                      As the sabre true
                      Cut cleanly through
                 His cervical vertebrae!

                 When a man's afraid,
                 A beautiful maid
            Is a cheering sight to see;
                 And it's oh, I'm glad
                 That moment sad
            Was soothed by sight of me!

                            CHORUS.

                 Her terrible tale
                 You can't assail,
            With truth it quite agrees:
                 Her taste exact
                 For faultless fact
            Amounts to a disease.

  POOH.     Now though you'd have said that head was dead
                 (For its owner dead was he),
            It stood on its neck, with a smile well-bred,
                 And bowed three times to me!
            It was none of your impudent off-hand nods,
                 But as humble as could be;
                      For it clearly knew
                      The deference due
                 To a man of pedigree!
                      And it's oh, I vow,
                      This deathly bow
                 Was a touching sight to see;
                      Though trunkless, yet
                      It couldn't forget
                 The deference due to me!

                                 CHORUS.

                      This haughty youth,
                      He speaks the truth
                 Whenever he finds it pays:
                      And in this case
                      It all took place
                 Exactly as he says!
                                                              [Exeunt
  Chorus.

       MIK.  All this is very interesting, and I should like to
  have seen it.  But we came about a totally different matter.  A
  year ago my son, the heir to the throne of Japan, bolted from our
  Imperial Court.
       KO.  Indeed!  Had he any reason to be dissatisfied with his
  position?
       KAT.  None whatever.  On the contrary, I was going to marry
  him—yet he fled!
       POOH.  I am surprised that he should have fled from one so
  lovely!
       KAT.  That's not true.
       POOH.  No!
       KAT.  You hold that I am not beautiful because my face is
  plain.  But you know nothing; you are still unenlightened.
  Learn, then, that it is not in the face alone that beauty is to
  be sought.  My face is unattractive!
       POOH.  It is.
       KAT.  But I have a left shoulder-blade that is a miracle of
  loveliness.  People come miles to see it.  My right elbow has a
  fascination that few can resist.
       POOH.  Allow me!
       KAT.  It is on view Tuesdays and Fridays, on presentation of
  visiting card.  As for my circulation, it is the largest in the
  world.
       KO.  And yet he fled!
       MIK.  And is now masquerading in this town, disguised as a
  Second Trombone.
       KO., POOH., and PITTI.  A Second Trombone!
       MIK.  Yes; would it be troubling you too much if I asked you
  to produce him?  He goes by the name of——
       KAT.  Nanki-Poo.
       MIK.  Nanki-Poo.
       KO.  It's quite easy.  That is, it's rather difficult.  In
  point of fact, he's gone abroad!
       MIK.  Gone abroad!  His address.
       KO.  Knightsbridge!
       KAT.  (who is reading certificate of death).  Ha!
       MIK.  What's the matter?
       KAT.  See here—his name—Nanki-Poo—beheaded this morning.
  Oh, where shall I find another?  Where shall I find another?

                        [Ko-Ko, Pooh-Bah, and Pitti-Sing fall on
  their knees.

       MIK.  (looking at paper).  Dear, dear, dear!  this is very
  tiresome.  (To Ko-Ko.)  My poor fellow, in your anxiety to carry
  out my wishes you have beheaded the heir to the throne of Japan!
       KO.  I beg to offer an unqualified apology.
       POOH.  I desire to associate myself with that expression of
  regret.
       PITTI.  We really hadn't the least notion—
       MIK.  Of course you hadn't.  How could you?  Come, come, my
  good fellow, don't distress yourself—it was no fault of yours.
  If a man of exalted rank chooses to disguise himself as a Second
  Trombone, he must take the consequences.  It really distresses me
  to see you take on so.  I've no doubt he thoroughly deserved all
  he got.  (They rise.)
       KO.  We are infinitely obliged to your Majesty——
       PITTI.  Much obliged, your Majesty.
       POOH.  Very much obliged, your Majesty.
       MIK.  Obliged? not a bit.  Don't mention it.  How could you
  tell?
       POOH.  No, of course we couldn't tell who the gentleman
  really was.
       PITTI.  It wasn't written on his forehead, you know.
       KO.  It might have been on his pocket-handkerchief, but
  Japanese don't use pocket-handkerchiefs!  Ha! ha! ha!
       MIK.  Ha! ha! ha! (To Katisha.)  I forget the punishment for
  compassing the death of the Heir Apparent.
       KO., POOH, and PITTI.  Punishment.  (They drop down on their
  knees again.)
       MIK.  Yes.  Something lingering, with boiling oil in it, I
  fancy.  Something of that sort.  I think boiling oil occurs in
  it, but I'm not sure.  I know it's something humorous, but
  lingering, with either boiling oil or melted lead.  Come, come,
  don't fret—I'm not a bit angry.
       KO.  (in abject terror).  If your Majesty  will accept  our
  assurance, we had no idea——
       MIK.  Of course——
       PITTI.  I knew nothing about it.
       POOH.  I wasn't there.
       MIK.  That's the pathetic part of it.  Unfortunately, the
  fool of an Act says "compassing the death of the Heir Apparent."
  There's not a word about a mistake——
       KO., PITTI., and POOH.  No!
       MIK.  Or not knowing——
       KO.  No!
       MIK.  Or having no notion——
       PITTI.  No!
       MIK.  Or not being there——
       POOH.  No!
       MIK.  There should be, of course—-
       KO., PITTI., and POOH.  Yes!
       MIK.  But there isn't.
       KO., PITTI., and POOH.  Oh!
       MIK.  That's the slovenly way in which these Acts are always
  drawn.  However, cheer up, it'll be all right.  I'll have it
  altered next session.  Now, let's see about your execution—will
  after luncheon suit you?  Can you wait till then?
       KO., PITTI., and POOH.  Oh, yes—we can wait till then!
       MIK.  Then we'll make it after luncheon.
       POOH.  I don't want any lunch.
       MIK.  I'm really very sorry for you all, but it's an unjust
  world, and virtue is triumphant only in theatrical performances.

                                    GLEE.

              PITTI-SING, KATISHA, KO-KO, POOH-BAH, and MIKADO,

  MIK.      See how the Fates their gifts allot,
            For A is happy—B is not.
            Yet B is worthy, I dare say,
            Of more prosperity than A!
  KO., POOH., and PITTI.  Is B more worthy?
  KAT.                          I should say
            He's worth a great deal more than A.
  ENSEMBLE:      Yet A is happy!
                      Oh, so happy!
                 Laughing, Ha! ha!
                 Chaffing, Ha! ha!
            Nectar quaffing, Ha! ha! ha!
                 Ever joyous, ever gay,
                 Happy, undeserving A!
  KO., POOH., and PITTI.   If I were Fortune—which I'm not—
                           B should enjoy A's happy lot,
                           And A should die in miserie—
                           That is, assuming I am B.
  MIK. and KAT.       But should A perish?
  KO., POOH., and PITTI.                  That should be
                      (Of course, assuming I am B).
                           B should be happy!
                                Oh, so happy!
                           Laughing, Ha! ha!
                           Chaffing, Ha! ha!
                      Nectar quaffing, Ha! ha! ha!
                           But condemned to die is he,
                           Wretched meritorious B!

                                                  [Exeunt Mikado and
  Katisha.

       KO.  Well, a nice mess you've got us into, with your nodding
  head and the deference due to a man of pedigree!
       POOH.  Merely corroborative detail, intended to give
  artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing
  narrative.
       PITTI.  Corroborative detail indeed!  Corroborative
  fiddlestick!
       KO.  And you're just as bad as he is with your cock—
  and-a-bull stories about catching his eye and his whistling an
  air.  But that's so like you!  You must put in your oar!
       POOH.  But how about your big right arm?
       PITTI.  Yes, and your snickersnee!
       KO.  Well, well, never mind that now.  There's only one
  thing to be done.  Nanki-Poo hasn't started yet—he must come to
  life again at once.  (Enter Nanki-Poo and Yum-Yum prepared for
  journey.)  Here he comes.  Here, Nanki-Poo, I've good news for
  you—you're reprieved.
       NANK.  Oh, but it's too late.  I'm a dead man, and I'm off
  for my honeymoon.
       KO.  Nonsense!  A terrible thing has just happened.  It
  seems you're the son of the Mikado.
       NANK.  Yes, but that happened some time ago.
       KO.  Is this a time for airy persiflage?  Your father is
  here, and with Katisha!
       NANK.  My father!  And with Katisha!
       KO.  Yes, he wants you particularly.
       POOH.  So does she.
       YUM.  Oh, but he's married now.
       KO.  But, bless my heart! what has that to do with it?
       NANK.  Katisha claims me in marriage, but I can't marry her
  because I'm married already—consequently she will insist on my
  execution, and if I'm executed, my wife will have to be buried
  alive.
       YUM.  You see our difficulty.
       KO.  Yes.  I don't know what's to be done.
       NANK.  There's one chance for you.  If you could persuade
  Katisha to marry you, she would have no further claim on me, and
  in that case I could come to life without any fear of being put
  to death.
       KO.  I marry Katisha!
       YUM.  I really think it's the only course.
       KO.  But, my good girl, have you seen her?  She's something
  appalling!
       PITTI.  Ah! that's only her face.  She has a left elbow
  which people come miles to see!
       POOH.  I am told that her right heel is much admired by
  connoisseurs.
       KO.  My good sir, I decline to pin my heart upon any lady's
  right heel.
       NANK.  It comes to this:  While Katisha is single, I prefer
  to be a disembodied spirit.  When Katisha is married, existence
  will be as welcome as the flowers in spring.

                          DUET—NANKI-POO and KO-KO.

                  (With YUM-YUM, PITTI-SING, and POOH-BAH.)

  NANK.     The flowers that bloom in the spring,
                                     Tra la,
                 Breathe promise of merry sunshine—
            As we merrily dance and we sing,
                                     Tra la,
            We welcome the hope that they bring,
                                     Tra la,
                 Of a summer of roses and wine.
                      And that's what we mean when we say that a
                           thing
                      Is welcome as flowers that bloom in the
                           spring.
                                     Tra la la la la la, etc.

  ALL.           Tra la la la, etc.

  KO.       The flowers that bloom in the spring,
                                     Tra la,
                 Have nothing to do with the case.
            I've got to take under my wing,
                                     Tra la,
            A most unattractive old thing,
                                     Tra la,
                 With a caricature of a face
            And that's what I mean when I say, or I sing,
            "Oh, bother the flowers that bloom in the spring."
                                     Tra la la la la la, etc.

  ALL.  Tra la la la, Tra la la la, etc.

  [Dance and exeunt Nanki-Poo, Yum-Yum, Pooh-Bah, Pitti-Sing, and
  Ko-Ko.

                              Enter Katisha.

                       RECITATIVE and SONG.—KATISHA.

       Alone, and yet alive!  Oh, sepulchre!
       My soul is still my body's prisoner!
       Remote the peace that Death alone can give—
       My doom, to wait! my punishment, to live!

                                 SONG.

                 Hearts do not break!
                 They sting and ache
                 For old love's sake,
                      But do not die,
                 Though with each breath
                 They long for death
                 As witnesseth
                      The living I!
                           Oh, living I!
                           Come, tell me why,
                           When hope is gone,
                           Dost thou stay on?
                           Why linger here,
                           Where all is drear?
                           Oh, living I!
                           Come, tell me why,
                           When hope is gone,
                           Dost thou stay on?
                      May not a cheated maiden die?

       KO.  (entering and approaching her timidly).  Katisha!
       KAT.  The miscreant who robbed me of my love!  But vengeance
  pursues—they are heating the cauldron!
       KO.  Katisha—behold a suppliant at your feet!
  Katisha—mercy!
       KAT.  Mercy?  Had you mercy on him?  See here, you!  You
  have slain my love.  He did not love me, but he would have loved
  me in time.  I am an acquired taste—only the educated palate can
  appreciate me.  I was educating his palate when he left me.
  Well, he is dead, and where shall I find another?  It takes years
  to train a man to love me.  Am I to go through the weary round
  again, and, at the same time, implore mercy for you who robbed me
  of my prey—I mean my pupil—just as his education was on the
  point of completion?  Oh, where shall I find another?
       KO.  (suddenly, and with great vehemence).  Here!—Here!
       KAT.  What!!!
       KO.  (with intense passion).  Katisha, for years I have
  loved you with a white-hot passion that is slowly but surely
  consuming my very vitals!  Ah, shrink not from me!  If there is
  aught of woman's mercy in your heart, turn not away from a
  love-sick suppliant whose every fibre thrills at your tiniest
  touch!  True it is that, under a poor mask of disgust, I have
  endeavoured to conceal a passion whose inner fires are broiling
  the soul within me!  But the fire will not be smothered—it
  defies all attempts at extinction, and, breaking forth, all the
  more eagerly for its long restraint, it declares itself in words
  that will not be weighed—that cannot be schooled—that should
  not be too severely criticised.  Katisha, I dare not hope for
  your love—but I will not live without it!  Darling!
       KAT.  You, whose hands still reek with the blood of my
  betrothed, dare to address words of passion to the woman you have
  so foully wronged!
       KO.  I do—accept my love, or I perish on the spot!
       KAT.  Go to!  Who knows so well as I that no one ever yet
  died of a broken heart!
       KO.  You know not what you say.  Listen!

                             SONG—KO-KO.

       On a tree by a river a little tom-tit
            Sang "Willow, titwillow, titwillow!"
       And I said to him, "Dicky-bird, why do you sit
            Singing  Willow, titwillow, titwillow'?"
       "Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?" I cried,
       "Or a rather tough worm in your little inside?"
       With a shake of his poor little head, he replied,
            "Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!"

       He slapped at his chest, as he sat on that bough,
            Singing "Willow, titwillow, titwillow!"
       And a cold perspiration bespangled his brow,
            Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!
       He sobbed and he sighed, and a gurgle he gave,
       Then he plunged himself into the billowy wave,
       And an echo arose from the suicide's grave—
            "Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!"

       Now I feel just as sure as I'm sure that my name
            Isn't Willow, titwillow, titwillow,
       That 'twas blighted affection that made him exclaim
            "Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!"
       And if you remain callous and obdurate, I
       Shall perish as he did, and you will know why,
       Though I probably shall not exclaim as I die,
            "Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!"

  (During this song Katisha has been greatly affected, and at the
       end is almost in tears.)

       KAT.  (whimpering).  Did he really die of love?
       KO.  He really did.
       KAT.  All on account of a cruel little hen?
       KO.  Yes.
       KAT.  Poor little chap!
       KO.  It's an affecting tale, and quite true.  I knew the
  bird intimately.
       KAT.  Did you?  He must have been very fond of her.
       KO.  His devotion was something extraordinary.
       KAT.  (still whimpering).  Poor little chap!  And—and if I
  refuse you, will you go and do the same?
       KO.  At once.
       KAT.  No, no—you mustn't!  Anything but that!  (Falls on
  his breast.)  Oh, I'm a silly little goose!
       KO.  (making a wry face).  You are!
       KAT.  And you won't hate me because I'm just a little teeny
  weeny wee bit bloodthirsty, will you?
       KO.  Hate you?  Oh, Katisha! is there not beauty even in
  bloodthirstiness?
       KAT.  My idea exactly.

                        DUET—KATISHA and KO-KO.

  KAT.     There is beauty in the bellow of the blast,
            There is grandeur in the growling of the gale,
                 There is eloquent outpouring
                 When the lion is a-roaring,
            And the tiger is a-lashing of his tail!
  KO.            Yes, I like to see a tiger
                 From the Congo or the Niger,
            And especially when lashing of his tail!
  KAT.     Volcanoes have a splendor that is grim,
            And earthquakes only terrify the dolts,
                 But to him who's scientific
                 There's nothing that's terrific
            In the falling of a flight of thunderbolts!
  KO.            Yes, in spite of all my meekness,
                 If I have a little weakness,
            It's a passion for a flight of thunderbolts!

  BOTH.          If that is so,
                      Sing derry down derry!
                      It's evident, very,
                           Our tastes are one.
                 Away we'll go,
                      And merrily marry,
                      Nor tardily tarry
                           Till day is done!

  KO.       There is beauty in extreme old age—
                 Do you fancy you are elderly enough?
                      Information I'm requesting
                      On a subject interesting:
                 Is a maiden all the better when she's tough?
  KAT.                Throughout this wide dominion
                      It's the general opinion
                 That she'll last a good deal longer when she's
                      tough.

  KO.      Are you old enough to marry, do you think?
            Won't you wait till you are eighty in the shade?
                 There's a fascination frantic
                 In a ruin that's romantic;
            Do you think you are sufficiently decayed?
  KAT.           To the matter that you mention
                 I have given some attention,
            And I think I am sufficiently decayed.

  BOTH.     If that is so,
                 Sing derry down derry!
                 It's evident, very,
                      Our tastes are one!
            Away we'll go,
                 And merrily marry,
                 Nor tardily tarry
                      Till day is done!
                                                            [Exeunt
  together.

  Flourish.  Enter the Mikado, attended by Pish-Tush and Court.

       MIK.  Now then, we've had a capital lunch, and we're quite
  ready.  Have all the painful preparations been made?
       PISH.  Your Majesty, all is prepared.
       MIK.  Then produce the unfortunate gentleman and his two
  well-meaning but misguided accomplices.

  Enter Ko-Ko, Katisha, Pooh-Bah, and Pitti-Sing.  They throw
  themselves
       at the Mikado's feet

       KAT.  Mercy!  Mercy for Ko-Ko!  Mercy for Pitti-Sing!  Mercy
  even for Pooh-Bah!
       MIK.  I beg your pardon, I don't think I quite caught that
  remark.
       POOH.  Mercy even for Pooh-Bah.
       KAT.  Mercy!  My husband that was to have been is dead, and
  I have just married this miserable object.
       MIK.  Oh!  You've not been long about it!
       KO.  We were married before the Registrar.
       POOH.  I am the Registrar.
       MIK.  I see.  But my difficulty is that, as you have slain
  the Heir Apparent——

  Enter Nanki-Poo and Yum-Yum.  They kneel.

       NANK.  The Heir Apparent is not slain.
       MIK.  Bless my heart, my son!
       YUM.  And your daughter-in-law elected!
       KAT.  (seizing Ko-Ko).  Traitor, you have deceived me!
       MIK.  Yes, you are entitled to a little explanation, but I
  think he will give it better whole than in pieces.
       KO.  Your Majesty, it's like this: It is true that I stated
  that I had killed Nanki-Poo——
       MIK.  Yes, with most affecting particulars.
       POOH.  Merely corroborative detail intended to give artistic
  verisimilitude to a bald and——
       KO.   Will you refrain from putting in your oar?  (To
  Mikado.)  It's like this:  When your Majesty says, "Let a thing be
  done," it's as good as done—practically, it is done—because
  your Majesty's will is law.  Your Majesty says, "Kill a
  gentleman," and a gentleman is told off to be killed.
  Consequently, that gentleman is as good as dead—practically, he
  is dead—and if he is dead, why not say so?
       MIK.  I see.  Nothing could possibly be more satisfactory!

                               FINALE.

  PITTI.    For he's gone and married Yum-Yum—
  ALL.                                    Yum-Yum!
  PITTI.         Your anger pray bury,
                 For all will be merry,
            I think you had better succumb—
  ALL.                                    Cumb—cumb.
  PITTI.         And join our expressions of glee!
  KO.       On this subject I pray you be dumb—
  ALL.                                    Dumb—dumb!
  KO.            Your notions, though many,
                 Are not worth a penny,
            The word for your guidance is "Mum"—
  ALL.                                    Mum—Mum!
  KO.       You've a very good bargain in me.
  ALL.      On this subject we pray you be dumb—
                                          Dumb—dumb!
            We think you had better succumb—
                                          Cumb—cumb!
                 You'll find there are many
                 Who'll wed for a penny,
            There are lots of good fish in the sea.
  YUM. and NANK. The threatened cloud has passed away,
            And brightly shines the dawning day;
            What though the night may come too soon,
            We've years and years of afternoon!
  ALL.           Then let the throng
                      Our joy advance,
            With laughing song
                      And merry dance,
            With joyous shout and ringing cheer,
            Inaugurate our new career!
                 Then let the throng, etc.
                               CURTAIN.





THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE
  OR

  THE SLAVE OF DUTY
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  MAJOR-GENERAL STANLEY

  THE PIRATE KING

  SAMUEL (his Lieutenant)

  SERGEANT OF POLICE

  MABEL, EDITH, KATE, and ISABEL (General Stanley's Daughters)

  RUTH (a Pirate Maid of all Work)

  Chorus of Pirates, Police, and General Stanley's Daughters
                                ACT I

             A rocky sea-shore on the coast of Cornwall

                               ACT II

                    A ruined chapel by moonlight
        First produced at the Opera Comique on April 3, 1880





ACT I
  (Scene.-A rocky seashore on the coast of Cornwall.  In the
  distance is a calm sea, on which a schooner is lying at anchor.
  Rock L. sloping down to L.C. of stage.  Under these rocks is a
  cavern, the entrance to which is seen at first entrance L.  A
  natural arch of rock occupies the R.C. of the stage.  As the
  curtain rises groups of pirates are discovered — some drinking,
  some playing cards.  SAMUEL, the Pirate Lieutenant, is going from
  one group to another, filling the cups from a flask.  FREDERIC is
  seated in a despondent attitude at the back of the scene.  RUTH
  kneels at his feet.)

                           OPENING CHORUS

  ALL:      Pour, O pour the pirate sherry;
                 Fill, O fill the pirate glass;
            And, to make us more than merry
                 Let the pirate bumper pass.

  SAMUEL:   For today our pirate 'prentice
                 Rises from indentures freed;
            Strong his arm, and keen his scent is
                 He's a pirate now indeed!

  ALL:      Here's good luck to Fred'ric's ventures!
            Fred'ric's out of his indentures.

  SAMUEL:   Two and twenty, now he's rising,
                 And alone he's fit to fly,
            Which we're bent on signalizing
                 With unusual revelry.

  ALL:      Here's good luck to Fred'ric's ventures!
                 Fred'ric's out of his indentures.
            Pour, O pour the pirate sherry;
                 Fill, O fill the pirate glass;
            And, to make us more than merry
                 Let the pirate bumper pass.

  (FREDERIC rises and comes forward with PIRATE KING, who enters)

  KING:     Yes, Frederic, from to-day you rank as a full-blown
            member of our band.
  ALL:      Hurrah!
  FREDERIC: My friends, I thank you all, from my heart, for your
            kindly wishes.  Would that I could repay them as they
            deserve!
  KING:     What do you mean?
  FREDERIC: To-day I am out of my indentures, and to-day I leave
            you for ever.
  KING:     But this is quite unaccountable; a keener hand at
            scuttling a Cunarder or cutting out a White Star never
            shipped a handspike.
  FREDERIC: Yes, I have done my best for you.  And why?  It was my
            duty under my indentures, and I am the slave of duty.
            As a child I was regularly apprenticed to your band.
            It was through an error — no matter, the mistake was
            ours, not yours, and I was in honour bound by it.
  SAMUEL:   An error?  What error?  (RUTH rises and comes forward)
  FREDERIC: I may not tell you; it would reflect upon my well-loved
            Ruth.
  RUTH:     Nay, dear master, my mind has long been gnawed by the
            cankering tooth of mystery.  Better have it out at
            once.

                            SONG — RUTH

  RUTH:     When Frederic was a little lad he proved so brave and
                 daring,
            His father thought he'd 'prentice him to some career
                 seafaring.
            I was, alas! his nurs'rymaid, and so it fell to my lot
            To take and bind the promising boy apprentice to a
                 pilot —
            A life not bad for a hardy lad, though surely not a
                 high lot,
            Though I'm a nurse, you might do worse than make your
                 boy a pilot.
            I was a stupid nurs'rymaid, on breakers always
                 steering,
            And I did not catch the word aright, through being hard
                 of hearing;
            Mistaking my instructions, which within my brain did
                 gyrate,
            I took and bound this promising boy apprentice to a
                 pirate.
            A sad mistake it was to make and doom him to a vile
                 lot.
            I bound him to a pirate — you! — instead of to a
                 pilot.
            I soon found out, beyond all doubt, the scope of this
                 disaster,
            But I hadn't the face to return to my place, and break
                 it to my master.
            A nurs'rymaid is not afraid of what you people call
                 work,
            So I made up my mind to go as a kind of piratical maid-
                 of-all-work.
            And that is how you find me now, a member of your shy
                 lot,
            Which you wouldn't have found, had he been bound
                 apprentice to a pilot.
  RUTH:     Oh, pardon!  Frederic, pardon!  (Kneels)
  FREDERIC: Rise, sweet one, I have long pardoned you.  (Ruth
            rises)
  RUTH:     The two words were so much alike!
  FREDERIC: They were.  They still are, though years have rolled
            over their heads.  But this afternoon my obligation
            ceases.  Individually, I love you all with affection
            unspeakable; but, collectively, I look upon you with a
            disgust that amounts to absolute detestation.  Oh! pity
            me, my beloved friends, for such is my sense of duty
            that, once out of my indentures, I shall feel myself
            bound to devote myself heart and soul to your
            extermination!
  ALL:      Poor lad — poor lad!  (All weep)
  KING:     Well, Frederic, if you conscientiously feel that it is
            your duty to destroy us, we cannot blame you for acting
            on that conviction.  Always act in accordance with the
            dictates of your conscience, my boy, and chance the
            consequences.
  SAMUEL:   Besides, we can offer you but little temptation to
            remain with us.  We don't seem to make piracy pay.  I'm
            sure I don't know why, but we don't.
  FREDERIC: I know why, but, alas! I mustn't tell you; it wouldn't
            be right.
  KING:     Why not, my boy?  It's only half-past eleven, and you
            are one of us until the clock strikes twelve.
  SAMUEL:   True, and until then you are bound to protect our
            interests.
  ALL:      Hear, hear!
  FREDERIC: Well, then, it is my duty, as a pirate, to tell you
            that you are too tender-hearted.  For instance, you
            make a point of never attacking a weaker party than
            yourselves, and when you attack a stronger party you
            invariably get thrashed.
  KING:     There is some truth in that.
  FREDERIC: Then, again, you make a point of never molesting an
            orphan!
  SAMUEL:   Of course:  we are orphans ourselves, and know what it
            is.
  FREDERIC: Yes, but it has got about, and what is the consequence?
            Every one we capture says he's an orphan.  The last
            three ships we took proved to be manned entirely by
            orphans, and so we had to let them go.  One would think
            that Great Britain's mercantile navy was recruited
            solely from her orphan asylums — which we know is not
            the case.
  SAMUEL:   But, hang it all!  you wouldn't have us absolutely
            merciless?
  FREDERIC: There's my difficulty; until twelve o'clock I would,
            after twelve I wouldn't.  Was ever a man placed in so
            delicate a situation?
  RUTH:     And Ruth, your own Ruth, whom you love so well, and who
            has won her middle-aged way into your boyish heart,
            what is to become of her?
  KING:     Oh, he will take you with him.
  FREDERIC: Well, Ruth, I feel some difficulty about you.  It is
            true that I admire you very much, but I have been
            constantly at sea since I was eight years old, and
            yours is the only woman's face I have seen during that
            time.  I think it is a sweet face.
  RUTH:     It is — oh, it is!
  FREDERIC: I say I think it is; that is my impression.  But as I
            have never had an opportunity of comparing you with
            other women, it is just possible I may be mistaken.
  KING:     True.
  FREDERIC: What a terrible thing it would be if I were to marry
            this innocent person, and then find out that she is, on
            the whole, plain!
  KING:     Oh, Ruth is very well, very well indeed.
  SAMUEL:   Yes, there are the remains of a fine woman about Ruth.
  FREDERIC: Do you really think so?
  SAMUEL:   I do.
  FREDERIC: Then I will not be so selfish as to take her from you.
            In justice to her, and in consideration for you, I will
            leave her behind.  (Hands RUTH to KING)
  KING:     No, Frederic, this must not be.  We are rough men, who
            lead a rough life, but we are not so utterly heartless
            as to deprive thee of thy love.  I think I am right in
            saying that there is not one here who would rob thee of
            this inestimable treasure for all the world holds dear.
  ALL:      (loudly)  Not one!
  KING:     No, I thought there wasn't.  Keep thy love, Frederic,
            keep thy love.  (Hands her back to FREDERIC)
  FREDERIC: You're very good, I'm sure.  (Exit RUTH)
  KING:     Well, it's the top of the tide, and we must be off.
            Farewell, Frederic.  When your process of extermination
            begins, let our deaths be as swift and painless as you
            can conveniently make them.
  FREDERIC: I will!  By the love I have for you, I swear it!  Would
            that you could render this extermination unnecessary by
            accompanying me back to civilization!
  KING:     No, Frederic, it cannot be.  I don't think much of our
            profession, but, contrasted with respectability, it is
            comparatively honest.  No, Frederic, I shall live and
            die a Pirate King.

                         SONG — PIRATE KING

  KING:     Oh, better far to live and die
            Under the brave black flag I fly,
            Than play a sanctimonious part
            With a pirate head and a pirate heart.
            Away to the cheating world go you,
            Where pirates all are well-to-do;
            But I'll be true to the song I sing,
            And live and die a Pirate King.
                 For I am a Pirate King!
            And it is, it is a glorious thing
            To be a Pirate King!
                 For I am a Pirate King!
  ALL:                You are!
            Hurrah for the Pirate King!
  KING:     And it is, it is a glorious thing
            To be a Pirate King.
  ALL:                It is!
            Hurrah for the Pirate King!
            Hurrah for the Pirate King!
  KING:     When I sally forth to seek my prey
            I help myself in a royal way.
            I sink a few more ships, it's true,
            Than a well-bred monarch ought to do;
            But many a king on a first-class throne,
            If he wants to call his crown his own,
            Must manage somehow to get through
            More dirty work than e'er I do,
                 For I am a Pirate King!
            And it is, it is a glorious thing
            To be a Pirate King!
                 For I am a Pirate King!
  ALL:                You are!
            Hurrah for the Pirate King!
  KING:     And it is, it is a glorious thing
            To be a Pirate King.
  ALL:                It is!
            Hurrah for the Pirate King!
            Hurrah for the Pirate King!

       (Exeunt all except FREDERIC.  Enter RUTH.)

  RUTH:     Oh, take me with you! I cannot live if I am left
            behind.
  FREDERIC: Ruth, I will be quite candid with you.  You are very
            dear to me, as you know, but I must be circumspect.
            You see, you are considerably older than I.  A lad of
            twenty-one usually looks for a wife of seventeen.
  RUTH:     A wife of seventeen!  You will find me a wife of a
            thousand!
  FREDERIC: No, but I shall find you a wife of forty-seven, and
            that is quite enough. Ruth, tell me candidly and
            without reserve:  compared with other women, how are
            you?
  RUTH:     I will answer you truthfully, master:  I have a slight
            cold, but otherwise I am quite well.
  FREDERIC: I am sorry for your cold, but I was referring rather to
            your personal appearance. Compared with other women,
            are you beautiful?
  RUTH:     (bashfully)    I have been told so, dear master.
  FREDERIC: Ah, but lately?
  RUTH:     Oh, no; years and years ago.
  FREDERIC: What do you think of yourself?
  RUTH:     It is a delicate question to answer, but I think I am a
            fine woman.
  FREDERIC: That is your candid opinion?
  RUTH:     Yes, I should be deceiving you if I told you otherwise.
  FREDERIC: Thank you, Ruth.  I believe you, for I am sure you
            would not practice on my inexperience.  I wish to do
            the right thing, and if- I say if- you are really a
            fine woman, your age shall be no obstacle to our union!
            (Shakes hands with her.  Chorus of girls heard in the
            distance, "climbing over rocky mountain," etc.)  Hark!
            Surely I hear voices!  Who has ventured to approach our
            all but inaccessible lair? Can it be Custom House?  No,
            it does not sound like Custom House.
  RUTH:     (aside)  Confusion!  it is the voices of young girls!
            If he should see them I am lost.
  FREDERIC: (looking off)  By all that's marvellous, a bevy of
            beautiful maidens!
  RUTH:     (aside)  Lost!  lost!  lost!
  FREDERIC: How lovely, how surpassingly lovely is the plainest of
            them!  What grace- what delicacy- what refinement!  And
            Ruth— Ruth told me she was beautiful!

                                RECITATIVE

  FREDERIC: Oh, false one, you have deceived me!
  RUTH:          I have deceived you?
  FREDERIC:           Yes, deceived me!
                                                  (Denouncing her.)
  FREDERIC: You told me you were fair as gold!
  RUTH:     (wildly)  And, master, am I not so?
  FREDERIC: And now I see you're plain and old.
  RUTH:          I'm sure I'm not a jot so.
  FREDERIC: Upon my innocence you play.
  RUTH:          I'm not the one to plot so.
  FREDERIC: Your face is lined, your hair is grey.
  RUTH:          It's gradually got so.
  FREDERIC: Faithless woman, to deceive me,
                      I who trusted so!
  RUTH:     Master, master, do not leave me!
                      Hear me, ere you go!
                 My love without reflecting,
                 Oh, do not be rejecting!
       Take a maiden tender, her affection raw and green,
                 At very highest rating,
                 Has been accumulating
       Summers seventeen, summers seventeen.
                 Don't, beloved master,
                 Crush me with disaster.
       What is such a dower to the dower I have here?
                 My love unabating
                 Has been accumulating
       Forty-seven year—forty-seven year!

                              ENSEMBLE

               RUTH                            FREDERIC

       Don't, beloved master,         Yes, your former master
       Crush me with disaster.        Saves you from disaster.
  What is such a dower to the     Your love would be uncomfortably
       dower I have here              fervid, it is clear
       My love unabating              If, as you are stating
       Has been accumulating          It's been accumulating
  Forty-seven year, forty-seven   Forty-seven year—forty-seven year!
       year!                      Faithless woman to deceive me, I
                                      who trusted so!
  Master, master, do not leave    Faithless woman to deceive me, I
       me, hear me, ere I go!         who trusted so!

                           RECIT—FREDERIC

            What shall I do?  Before these gentle maidens
            I dare not show in this alarming costume!
            No, no, I must remain in close concealment
            Until I can appear in decent clothing!

  (Hides in cave as they enter climbing over the rocks and through
       arched rock)

  GIRLS:    Climbing over rocky mountain,
            Skipping rivulet and fountain,
            Passing where the willows quiver,
            Passing where the willows quiver
            By the ever-rolling river,
                 Swollen with the summer rain, the summer rain
            Threading long and leafy mazes
            Dotted with unnumbered daisies,
            Dotted, dotted with unnumbered daisies,
            Scaling rough and rugged passes,
            Climb the hardy little lasses,
                 Till the bright sea-shore they gain;
            Scaling rough and rugged passes,
            Climb the hardy little lasses,
                 Till the bright sea-shore they gain!

  EDITH:    Let us gaily tread the measure,
            Make the most of fleeting leisure,
            Hail it as a true ally,
            Though it perish by-and-by.

  GIRLS:         Hail it as a true ally,
                 Though it perish by-and-by.

  EDITH:    Every moment brings a treasure
            Of its own especial pleasure;
            Though the moments quickly die,
            Greet them gaily as they fly,
            Greet them gaily as they fly.

  GIRLS:    Though the moments quickly die,
            Greet them gaily as they fly.

  KATE:     Far away from toil and care,
            Revelling in fresh sea-air,
            Here we live and reign alone
            In a world that's all our own.
            Here, in this our rocky den,
            Far away from mortal men,
            We'll be queens, and make decrees—
            They may honour them who please.

  GIRLS:    We'll be queens, and make decrees—
            They may honour them who please.
            Let us gaily tread the measure, etc.

  KATE:     What a picturesque spot! I wonder where we are!
  EDITH:    And I wonder where Papa is.  We have left him ever so
            far behind.
  ISABEL:   Oh, he will be here presently! Remember poor Papa is
            not as young as we are, and we came over a rather
            difficult country.
  KATE:     But how thoroughly delightful it is to be so entirely
            alone! Why, in all probability we are the first human
            beings who ever set foot on this enchanting spot.
  ISABEL:   Except the mermaids—it's the very place for mermaids.
  KATE:     Who are only human beings down to the waist—
  EDITH:    And who can't be said strictly to set foot anywhere.
            Tails they may, but feet they cannot.
  KATE:     But what shall we do until Papa and the servants arrive
            with the luncheon?
  EDITH:    We are quite alone, and the sea is as smooth as glass.
            Suppose we take off our shoes and stockings and paddle?
  ALL:      Yes, yes!  The very thing!  (They prepare to carry, out
            the suggestion. They have all taken off one shoe, when
            FREDERIC comes forward from cave.)

  FREDERIC: (recitative).  Stop, ladies, pray!
  GIRLS:    (Hopping on one foot)    A man!
  FREDERIC:                I had intended
            Not to intrude myself upon your notice
            In this effective but alarming costume;
            But under these peculiar circumstances,
            It is my bounden duty to inform you
            That your proceedings will not be unwitnessed!
  EDITH:    But who are you, sir?  Speak!  (All hopping)
  FREDERIC:                I am a pirate!
  GIRLS:    (recoiling, hopping)     A pirate!  Horror!
  FREDERIC:                Ladies, do not shun me!
            This evening I renounce my vile profession;
            And, to that end, O pure and peerless maidens!
            Oh, blushing buds of ever-blooming beauty!
            I, sore at heart, implore your kind assistance.
  EDITH:    How pitiful his tale!
  KATE:          How rare his beauty
  GIRLS:    How pitiful his tale!  How rare his beauty!

                           SONG—FREDERIC

            Oh, is there not one maiden breast
                 Which does not feel the moral beauty
            Of making worldly interest
                 Subordinate to sense of duty?

            Who would not give up willingly
                 All matrimonial ambition,
            To rescue such a one as I
                 From his unfortunate position?
                      From his position,
                 To rescue such an one as I
                      From his unfortunate position?

  GIRLS:    Alas!  there's not one maiden breast
                 Which seems to feel the moral beauty
            Of making worldly interest
                 Subordinate to sense of duty!

  FREDERIC: Oh, is there not one maiden here
                 Whose homely face and bad complexion
            Have caused all hope to disappear
                 Of ever winning man's affection?
            Of such a one, if such there be,
                 I swear by Heaven's arch above you,
            If you will cast your eyes on me,
                 However plain you be, I'll love you,
                 However plain you be,
            If you will cast your eyes on me,
                 However plain you be I'll love you,
                 I'll love you, I'll love, I'll love you!

  GIRLS:    Alas! there's not one maiden here
                 Whose homely face and bad complexion
            Have caused all hope to disappear
                 Of ever winning man's affection!

  FREDERIC: (in despair)  Not one?
  GIRLS:                   No, no— not one!
  FREDERIC: Not one?
  GIRLS:                   No, no!
  MABEL:    (enters through arch)         Yes, one!
                      Yes, one!
  GIRLS:    'Tis Mabel!
  MABEL:         Yes, 'tis Mabel!

                            RECIT—MABEL

            Oh, sisters, deaf to pity's name,
                           For shame!
            It's true that he has gone astray,
                           But pray
            Is that a reason good and true
                           Why you
            Should all be deaf to pity's name?

  GIRLS:    (aside):  The question is, had he not been
                 A thing of beauty,
            Would she be swayed by quite as keen
                 A sense of duty?

  MABEL:    For shame, for shame, for shame!

                             SONG—MABEL

  MABEL:    Poor wand'ring one!
            Though thou hast surely strayed,
                 Take heart of grace,
                 Thy steps retrace,
            Poor wand'ring one!
            Poor wand'ring one!
            If such poor love as mine
                 Can help thee find
                 True peace of mind-
            Why, take it, it is thine!

  GIRLS:    Take heart, no danger low'rs;
            Take any heart but ours!

  MABEL:    Take heart, fair days will shine;
            Take any heart—take mine!

  GIRLS:    Take heart; no danger low'rs;
            Take any heart-but ours!

  MABEL:    Take heart, fair days will shine;
            Take any heart—take mine!
            Poor wand'ring one!, etc.

  (MABEL and FREDERIC go to mouth of cave and converse.  EDITH
       beckons her sisters, who form a semicircle around her.)

                                EDITH

            What ought we to do,
                 Gentle sisters, say?
            Propriety, we know,
                 Says we ought to stay;
            While sympathy exclaims,
                 "Free them from your tether—
            Play at other games—
                 Leave them here together."

                                 KATE

            Her case may, any day,
                 Be yours, my dear, or mine.
            Let her make her hay
                 While the sun doth shine.
            Let us compromise
                 (Our hearts are not of leather):
            Let us shut our eyes
                 And talk about the weather.

  GIRLS:    Yes, yes, let's talk about the weather.

                          Chattering chorus

            How beautifully blue the sky,
            The glass is rising very high,
            Continue fine I hope it may,
            And yet it rained but yesterday.
            To-morrow it may pour again
            (I hear the country wants some rain),
            Yet people say, I know not why,
            That we shall have a warm July.
            To-morrow it may pour again
            (I hear the country wants some rain),
            Yet people say, I know not why,
            That we shall have a warm July.

                      Enter MABEL and FREDERIC
.During MABEL's solo the GIRLS continue chatter pianissimo, but
       listening eagerly all the time.

                             SOLO—MABEL

            Did ever maiden wake
                 From dream of homely duty,
            To find her daylight break
                 With such exceeding beauty?
            Did ever maiden close
                 Her eyes on waking sadness,
            To dream of such exceeding gladness?

  FREDERIC: Ah, yes!  ah, yes! this is exceeding gladness
  GIRLS:    How beautifully blue the sky, etc.

                           SOLO—FREDERIC
.During this, GIRLS continue their chatter pianissimo as before,
       but listening intently all the time.

            Did ever pirate roll
                 His soul in guilty dreaming,
            And wake to find that soul
                 With peace and virtue beaming?

                              ENSEMBLE

        FREDERIC                MABEL                  GIRLS

  Did ever pirate       Did ever maiden wake   How beautifully blue
       loathed          From dream of homely        the sky, etc.
  Forsake his hideous        duty,
       mission          To find her daylight
  To find himself            break
       betrothed        With such exceeding
  To lady of position?       beauty?

                           RECIT—FREDERIC

            Stay, we must not lose our senses;
                 Men who stick at no offences
                      Will anon be here!
            Piracy their dreadful trade is;
                 Pray you, get you hence, young ladies,
                      While the coast is clear
                                        (FREDERIC and MABEL retire)

  GIRLS:    No, we must not lose our senses,
            If they stick at no offences
                 We should not be here!
            Piracy their dreadful trade is—
            Nice companions for young ladies!
                 Let us disap—.

  (During this chorus the PIRATES have entered stealthily, and
       formed in a semicircle behind the GIRLS.  As the GIRLS move
       to go off, each PIRATE seizes a GIRL.  KING seizes EDITH and
       ISABEL, SAMUEL seizes KATE.)

  GIRLS:    Too late!
  PIRATES:       Ha, ha!
  GIRLS:              Too late!
  PIRATES:                 Ho, ho!
            Ha, ha, ha, ha!  Ho, ho, ho, ho!

                              ENSEMBLE

  (Pirates pass in front of        (Girls pass in front of
       Girls.)                          Pirates.)

              PIRATES                            GIRLS

  Here's a first-rate opportunity  We have missed our opportunity
  To get married with impunity,    Of escaping with impunity;
  And indulge in the felicity      So farewell to the felicity
  Of unbounded domesticity.        Of our maiden domesticity!
  You shall quickly be             We shall quickly be
       parsonified,                     parsonified,
  Conjugally matrimonified,        Conjugally matrimonified,
  By a doctor of divinity          By a doctor of divinity,
  Who is located in this           Who is located in this
       vicinity.                       vicinity.
  By a doctor of divinity,         By a doctor of divinity,
  Who resides in this vicinity,    Who resides in this vicinity,
  By a doctor, a doctor, a doctor  By a doctor, a doctor, a doctor
       of divinity, of divinity.        of divinity, of divinity.
                                 RECIT

  MABEL:    (coming forward)  Hold, monsters!  Ere your pirate
                 caravanserai
                 Proceed, against our will, to wed us all,
            Just bear in mind that we are Wards in Chancery,
                 And father is a Major-General!

  SAMUEL:   (cowed)  We'd better pause, or danger may befall,
                      Their father is a Major-General.

  GIRLS:    Yes, yes; he is a Major-General!

  (The MAJOR-GENERAL has entered unnoticed, on the rock)

  GENERAL:  Yes, yes, I am a Major-General!
  SAMUEL:   For he is a Major-General!
  ALL:      He is!  Hurrah for the Major-General!
  GENERAL:  And it is, it is a glorious thing
            To be a Major-General!
  ALL:      It is!  Hurrah for the Major-General!
            Hurrah for the Major-General!

                         SONG—MAJOR-GENERAL

            I am the very model of a modern Major-General,
            I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral,
            I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights
                 historical
            From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;
            I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters
                 mathematical,
            I understand equations, both the simple and
                 quadratical,
            About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
            With many cheerful facts about the square of the
                 hypotenuse.

  ALL:      With many cheerful facts, etc.

  GENERAL:  I'm very good at integral and differential calculus;
            I know the scientific names of beings animalculous:
            In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
            I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

  ALL:      In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
            He is the very model of a modern Major-General.

  GENERAL:  I know our mythic history, King Arthur's and Sir
                 Caradoc's;
            I answer hard acrostics, I've a pretty taste for
                 paradox,
            I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of Heliogabalus,
            In conics I can floor peculiarities parabolous;
            I can tell undoubted Raphaels from Gerard Dows and
                 Zoffanies,
            I know the croaking chorus from the Frogs of
                 Aristophanes!
            Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's
                 din afore,
            And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense
                 Pinafore.

  ALL:      And whistle all the airs, etc.

  GENERAL:  Then I can write a washing bill in
                 Babylonic cuneiform,
            And tell you ev'ry detail of Caractacus's uniform:
            In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
            I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

  ALL:      In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
            He is the very model of a modern Major-General.

  GENERAL:  In fact, when I know what is meant by "mamelon" and
                 "ravelin",
            When I can tell at sight a Mauser rifle from a javelin,
            When such affairs as sorties and surprises I'm more
                 wary at,
            And when I know precisely what is meant by
                 "commissariat",
            When I have learnt what progress has been made in
                 modern gunnery,
            When I know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery-
                 -
            In short, when I've a smattering of elemental strategy,
            You'll say a better Major-General has never sat a gee.

  ALL:      You'll say a better Major-General, etc.

  GENERAL:  For my military knowledge, though I'm plucky and
                 adventury,
            Has only been brought down to the beginning of the
                 century;
            But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
            I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

  ALL:      But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
            He is the very model of a modern Major-General.

  GENERAL:  And now that I've introduced myself, I should like to
            have some idea of what's going on.
  KATE:     Oh, Papa—  we—-
  SAMUEL:   Permit me, I'll explain in two words:  we propose to
            marry your daughters.
  GENERAL:  Dear me!
  GIRLS:    Against our wills, Papa—against our wills!
  GENERAL:  Oh, but you mustn't do that!  May I ask—  this is a
            picturesque uniform, but I'm not familiar with it.
            What are you?
  KING:     We are all single gentlemen.
  GENERAL:  Yes, I gathered that.  Anything else?
  KING:     No, nothing else.
  EDITH:    Papa, don't believe them; they are pirates—  the
            famous Pirates of Penzance!
  GENERAL:  The Pirates of Penzance!  I have often heard of them.
  MABEL:    All except this gentleman (indicating FREDERIC), who
            was a pirate once, but who is out of his indentures to-
            day, and who means to lead a blameless life evermore.
  GENERAL:  But wait a bit.  I object to pirates as sons-in-law.
  KING:     We object to major-generals as fathers-in-law.  But we
            waive that point. We do not press it. We look over it.
  GENERAL:  (aside)  Hah! an idea!  (aloud)  And do you mean to say
            that you would deliberately rob me of these, the sole
            remaining props of my old age, and leave me to go
            through the remainder of my life unfriended,
            unprotected, and alone?
  KING:     Well, yes, that's the idea.
  GENERAL:  Tell me, have you ever known what it is to be an
            orphan?
  PIRATES:  (disgusted)  Oh, dash it all!
  KING:     Here we are again!
  GENERAL:  I ask you, have you ever known what it is to be an
            orphan?
  KING:     Often!
  GENERAL:  Yes, orphan.  Have you ever known what it is to be one?
  KING:     I say, often.
  ALL:      (disgusted)  Often, often, often.  (Turning away)
  GENERAL:  I don't think we quite understand one another.  I ask
            you, have you ever known what it is to be an orphan,
            and you say "orphan". As I understand you, you are
            merely repeating the word "orphan" to show that you
            understand me.
  KING:     I didn't repeat the word often.
  GENERAL:  Pardon me, you did indeed.
  KING:     I only repeated it once.
  GENERAL:  True, but you repeated it.
  KING:     But not often.
  GENERAL:  Stop!  I think I see where we are getting confused.
            When you said "orphan", did you mean "orphan",a person
            who has lost his parents, or "often", frequently?
  KING:     Ah! I beg pardon—  I see what you mean — frequently.
  GENERAL:  Ah! you said "often", frequently.
  KING:     No, only once.
  GENERAL:  (irritated)  Exactly—  you said "often", frequently,
            only once.

                                FINALE OF ACT I

  GENERAL:  Oh, men of dark and dismal fate,
                 Forgo your cruel employ,
            Have pity on my lonely state,
                 I am an orphan boy!
  KING/SAMUEL:        An orphan boy?
  GENERAL:            An orphan boy!
  PIRATES:       How sad, an orphan boy.

  GENERAL:  These children whom you see
                 Are all that I can call my own!
  PIRATES:                 Poor fellow!
  GENERAL:  Take them away from me,
                 And I shall be indeed alone.
  PIRATES:                 Poor fellow!
  GENERAL:  If pity you can feel,
                 Leave me my sole remaining joy—
            See, at your feet they kneel;
            Your hearts you cannot steel
       Against the sad, sad tale of the lonely orphan boy!
  PIRATES:  (sobbing)      Poor fellow!
            See at our feet they kneel;
            Our hearts we cannot steel
       Against the sad, sad tale of the lonely orphan boy!
  SAMUEL:   The orphan boy!
  add KING:                The orphan boy!
            See at our feet they kneel;
            Our hearts we cannot steel
       Against the tale of the lonely orphan boy!
  PIRATES:                 Poor fellow!

                              ENSEMBLE

      GENERAL (aside)           GIRLS (aside)           PIRATES
  (aside)

  I'm telling a terrible   He is telling a terrible If he's telling
  a
       story                    story,                   terrible
  story
  But it doesn't diminish  Which will tend to       He shall die by
  a death
       my glory;                diminish his             that is gory
  For they would have           glory;              Yes, one of the
       taken my daughters  Though they would have        cruellest
  Over the billowy waters,      taken his                slaughters
                                daughters           That ever were
  known in
                           Over the billowy waters,      these
  waters;
  If I hadn't, in elegant  It is easy, in elegant   It is easy, in
  elegant
       diction,                 diction.                 diction,
  Indulged in an innocent  To call it an innocent   To call it an
  innocent
       fiction,                 fiction,                 fiction
  Which is not in the same But it comes in the same But it comes in
  the same
       category                 category                 category
  As a regular terrible    As telling a regular     As telling a
  regular
       story.                   terrible story.          terrible
  story.

  KING:     Although our dark career
                 Sometimes involves the crime of stealing,
            We rather think that we're
                 Not altogether void of feeling.
            Although we live by strife,
                 We're always sorry to begin it,
            For what, we ask, is life
                 Without a touch of Poetry in it?
                                                        (all kneel)

  ALL:      Hail, Poetry, thou heav'n-born maid!
                 Thou gildest e'en the pirate's trade.
            Hail, flowing fount of sentiment!
                 All hail, all hail, divine emollient!
                                                         (all rise)

  KING:     You may go, for you're at liberty, our pirate rules
                 protect you,
            And honorary members of our band we do elect you!
  SAMUEL:   For he is an orphan boy!
  CHORUS:   He is!  Hurrah for the orphan boy!
  GENERAL:  And it sometimes is a useful thing
                 To be an orphan boy.
  CHORUS:   It is!  Hurrah for the orphan boy!
            Hurrah for the orphan boy!
  ENSEMBLE: Oh, happy day, with joyous glee
            They will away and married be!
            Should it befall auspiciously,
            Her (Our) sisters all will bridesmaids be!

       (RUTH enters and comes down to FREDERIC)

  RUTH:     Oh, master, hear one word, I do implore you!
            Remember Ruth, your Ruth, who kneels before you!
  PIRATES:  Yes, yes, remember Ruth, who kneels before you!
  FREDERIC: Away, you did deceive me!
  PIRATES:  (Threatening RUTH)  Away, you did deceive him!
  RUTH:     Oh, do not leave me!
  PIRATES:  Oh, do not leave her!
  FREDERIC: Away, you grieve me!
  PIRATES:  Away, you grieve him!
  FREDERIC: I wish you'd leave me!  (FREDERIC casts RUTH from him)
  PIRATES:  We wish you'd leave him!

                              ENSEMBLE

                  MEN                           WOMEN

  Pray observe the magnanimity     Pray observe the magnanimity
  We display to lace and dimity!   They display to lace and
                                          dimity!
  Never was such opportunity       Never was such opportunity
  To get married with impunity,    To get married with impunity,
  But we give up the felicity      But they give up the felicity
  Of unbounded domesticity,        Of unbounded domesticity,
  Though a doctor of divinity      Though a doctor of divinity
  Is located in this vicinity.     Is located in this vicinity.

  (GIRLS and MAJOR-GENERAL go up rocks, while PIRATES indulge in a
       wild dance of delight on stage.  The MAJOR-GENERAL produces
       a British flag, and the PIRATE KING, in arched rock,
       produces a black flag with skull and crossbones.  Enter
       RUTH, who makes a final appeal to FREDERIC, who casts her
       from him.)

                                    END OF ACT I





ACT II
  (Scene.-A ruined chapel by moonlight.  Aisles C., R. and L.,
       divided by pillars and arches, ruined Gothic windows at
       back.  MAJOR-GENERAL STANLEY discovered seated R.C.
       pensively, surrounded by his daughters.)
                                  CHORUS

            Oh, dry the glist'ning tear
                 That dews that martial cheek,
            Thy loving children hear,
                 In them thy comfort seek.
            With sympathetic care
                 Their arms around thee creep,
            For oh, they cannot bear
                 To see their father weep!

       (Enter MABEL)

                              SOLO—MABEL

            Dear father, why leave your bed
                 At this untimely hour,
            When happy daylight is dead,
                 And darksome dangers low'r?
            See, heav'n has lit her lamp,
                 The midnight hour is past,
            And the chilly night-air is damp,
                 And the dews are falling fast!
            Dear father, why leave your bed
                 When happy daylight is dead?

  GIRLS:    Oh, dry the glist'ning tear, etc.

       (FREDERIC enters)

  MABEL:    Oh, Frederic, cannot you, in the calm excellence of
            your wisdom, reconcile it with your conscience to say
            something that will relieve my father's sorrow?
  FREDERIC: I will try, dear Mabel.  But why does he sit, night
            after night, in this draughty old ruin?
  GENERAL:  Why do I sit here?  To escape from the pirates'
            clutches, I described myself as an orphan; and, heaven
            help me, I am no orphan!  I come here to humble myself
            before the tombs of my ancestors, and to implore their
            pardon for having brought dishonour on the family
            escutcheon.
  FREDERIC: But you forget, sir, you only bought the property a
            year ago, and the stucco on your baronial castle is
            scarcely dry.
  GENERAL:  Frederic, in this chapel are ancestors: you cannot deny
            that.  With the estate, I bought the chapel and its
            contents.  I don't know whose ancestors they were, but
            I know whose ancestors they are, and I shudder to think
            that their descendant by purchase (if I may so describe
            myself) should have brought disgrace upon what, I have
            no doubt, was an unstained escutcheon.
  FREDERIC: Be comforted.  Had you not acted as you did, these
            reckless men would assuredly have called in the nearest
            clergyman, and have married your large family on the
            spot.
  GENERAL:  I thank you for your proffered solace, but it is
            unavailing.  I assure you, Frederic, that such is the
            anguish and remorse I feel at the abominable falsehood
            by which I escaped these easily deluded pirates, that I
            would go to their simple-minded chief this very night
            and confess all, did I not fear that the consequences
            would be most disastrous to myself.  At what time does
            your expedition march against these scoundrels?
  FREDERIC: At eleven, and before midnight I hope to have atoned
            for my involuntary association with the pestilent
            scourges by sweeping them from the face of the earth—
            and then, dear Mabel, you will be mine!
  GENERAL:  Are your devoted followers at hand?
  FREDERIC: They are, they only wait my orders.

                           RECIT—GENERAL

            Then, Frederic, let your escort lion-hearted
            Be summoned to receive a gen'ral's blessing,
            Ere they depart upon their dread adventure.

  FREDERIC: Dear, sir, they come.

  (Enter POLICE, marching in single file. They form in line, facing
       audience.)

                           SONG—SERGEANT

       When the foeman bares his steel,
                      Tarantara!  tarantara!
       We uncomfortable feel,
                      Tarantara!
       And we find the wisest thing,
                      Tarantara!  tarantara!
       Is to slap our chests and sing,
                      Tarantara!
       For when threatened with -meutes,
                      Tarantara! tarantara!
       And your heart is in your boots,
                      Tarantara!
       There is nothing brings it round
       Like the trumpet's martial sound,
       Like the trumpet's martial sound
                      Tarantara! tarantara!, etc.

  MABEL:    Go, ye heroes, go to glory,
            Though you die in combat gory,
            Ye shall live in song and story.
                 Go to immortality!
            Go to death, and go to slaughter;
            Die, and every Cornish daughter
            With her tears your grave shall water.
                 Go, ye heroes, go and die!

  GIRLS:    Go, ye heroes, go and die!  Go, ye heroes, go and die!

  POLICE:   Though to us it's evident,
                      Tarantara!  tarantara!
            These attentions are well meant,
                      Tarantara!
            Such expressions don't appear,
                      Tarantara!  tarantara!
            Calculated men to cheer
                      Tarantara!
            Who are going to meet their fate
            In a highly nervous state.
                      Tarantara! tarantara! tarantara!
            Still to us it's evident
            These attentions are well meant.
                      Tarantara! tarantara! tarantara!

  EDITH:    Go and do your best endeavour,
            And before all links we sever,
            We will say farewell for-ever.
                 Go to glory and the grave!

  GIRLS:    For your foes are fierce and ruthless,
            False, unmerciful, and truthless;
            Young and tender, old and toothless,
                 All in vain their mercy crave.

  SERGEANT: We observe too great a stress,
            On the risks that on us press,
            And of reference a lack
            To our chance of coming back.
            Still, perhaps it would be wise
            Not to carp or criticise,
            For it's very evident
            These attentions are well meant.

  POLICE:   Yes, it's very evident
            These attentions are well meant,
            Evident, yes, well meant, evident
            Ah, yes, well meant!

                              ENSEMBLE

       Chorus of all but Police                  Chorus of Police

  Go and do your best endeavour,        Such expressions don't
  appear,
  And before all links we sever                    Tarantara,
  tarantara!
  We will say farewell for ever.        Calculated men to cheer,
       Go to glory and the grave!                  Tarantara!
  For your foes and fierce and          Who are going to their fate,
       ruthless,                                   Tarantara,
  tarantara!
  False, unmerciful, and                In a highly nervous state—
       truthless.                                  Tarantara!
  Young and tender, old and             We observe too great a
  stress,
       toothless,                                  Tarantara,
  tarantara!
  All in vain their mercy crave.        On the risks that on us
  press,
                                                   Tarantara!
                                        And of reference a lack,
                                                   Tarantara,
  tarantara!
                                        To our chance of coming back,
                                                   Tarantara!

  GENERAL:  Away, away!
  POLICE:   (without moving)    Yes, yes, we go.
  GENERAL:  These pirates slay.
  POLICE:             Tarantara!
  GENERAL:  Then do not stay.
  POLICE:             Tarantara!
  GENERAL:  Then why this delay?
  POLICE:             All right, we go.
  ALL:      Yes, forward on the foe!
            Yes, forward on the foe!
  GENERAL:  Yes, but you don't go!
  POLICE:             We go, we go
  ALL:      Yes, forward on the foe!
            Yes, forward on the foe!
  GENERAL:  Yes, but you don't go!
  POLICE:             We go, we go
  ALL:      At last they go!
            At last they really go!

  (Exeunt POLICE.  MABEL tears herself from FREDERIC and exits,
       followed by her sisters, consoling her.  The MAJOR-GENERAL
       and others follow the POLICE off.  FREDERIC remains alone.)

                           RECIT-FREDERIC

            Now for the pirates' lair!  Oh, joy unbounded!
            Oh, sweet relief!  Oh, rapture unexampled!
            At last I may atone, in some slight measure,
            For the repeated acts of theft and pillage
            Which, at a sense of duty's stern dictation,
            I, circumstance's victim, have been guilty!

       (PIRATE KING and RUTH appear at the window, armed.)

  KING:     Young Frederic!  (Covering him with pistol)
  FREDERIC:      Who calls?
  KING:                    Your late commander!
  RUTH:     And I, your little Ruth!  (Covering him with pistol)
  FREDERIC:                Oh, mad intruders,
            How dare ye face me?  Know ye not, oh rash ones,
            That I have doomed you to extermination?

     (KING and RUTH hold a pistol to each ear)

  KING:     Have mercy on us!  hear us, ere you slaughter!
  FREDERIC: I do not think I ought to listen to you.
            Yet, mercy should alloy our stern resentment,
            And so I will be merciful—  say on!

                   TRIO—RUTH, KING, and FREDERIC

  RUTH:     When you had left our pirate fold,
                 We tried to raise our spirits faint,
            According to our custom old,
                 With quips and quibbles quaint.
            But all in vain the quips we heard,
                 We lay and sobbed upon the rocks,
            Until to somebody occurred
                 A startling paradox.
  FREDERIC:           A paradox?
  KING:     (laughing)     A paradox!
  RUTH:     A most ingenious paradox!
            We've quips and quibbles heard in flocks,
            But none to beat this paradox!
                 A paradox, a paradox,
                 A most ingenious paradox!
                 Ha! ha! ha! ha!  Ha! ha! ha! ha!
  KING:     We knew your taste for curious quips,
                 For cranks and contradictions queer;
            And with the laughter on our lips,
                 We wished you there to hear.
            We said, "If we could tell it him,
                 How Frederic would the joke enjoy!"
            And so we've risked both life and limb
                 To tell it to our boy.
  FREDERIC: (interested).  That paradox?  That paradox?
  KING and RUTH: (laughing)     That most ingenious paradox!
            We've quips and quibbles heard in flocks,
            But none to beat this paradox!
                 A paradox, a paradox,
                 A most ingenious paradox!
                 Ha! ha! ha! ha!  Ho! ho! ho! ho!

                             CHANT—KING

  For some ridiculous reason, to which, however, I've no desire to
       be disloyal,
  Some person in authority, I don't know who, very likely the
       Astronomer Royal,
  Has decided that, although for such a beastly month as February,
       twenty-eight days as a rule are plenty,
  One year in every four his days shall be reckoned as nine and-
       twenty.
  Through some singular coincidence— I shouldn't be surprised if
       it were owing to the agency of an ill-natured fairy—
  You are the victim of this clumsy arrangement, having been born
       in leap-year, on the twenty-ninth of February;
  And so, by a simple arithmetical process, you'll easily discover,
  That though you've lived twenty-one years, yet, if we go by
       birthdays, you're only five and a little bit over!
  RUTH:     Ha! ha! ha! ha!
  KING:          Ho! ho! ho! ho!
  FREDERIC: Dear me!
            Let's see!  (counting on fingers)
            Yes, yes; with yours my figures do agree!
  ALL: Ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho! ho!
  FREDERIC: (more amused than any)  How quaint the ways of Paradox!
            At common sense she gaily mocks!
            Though counting in the usual way,
            Years twenty-one I've been alive,
            Yet, reck'ning by my natal day,
            Yet, reck'ning by my natal day,
            I am a little boy of five!
  RUTH/KING:     He is a little boy of five!
                 Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
  ALL:      A paradox, a paradox,
            A most ingenious paradox!
            Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!, etc.

  (RUTH and KING throw themselves back on seats, exhausted with
       laughter)

  FREDERIC: Upon my word, this is most curious—  most absurdly
            whimsical. Five-and-a-quarter!  No one would think it
            to look at me!
  RUTH:     You are glad now, I'll be bound, that you spared us.
            You would never have forgiven yourself when you
            discovered that you had killed two of your comrades.
  FREDERIC: My comrades?
  KING:     (rises)  I'm afraid you don't appreciate the delicacy
            of your position:   You were apprenticed to us—
  FREDERIC: Until I reached my twenty-first year.
  KING:     No, until you reached your twenty-first birthday
            (producing document), and, going by birthdays, you are
            as yet only five-and-a-quarter.
  FREDERIC: You don't mean to say you are going to hold me to that?
  KING:     No, we merely remind you of the fact, and leave the
            rest to your sense of duty.
  RUTH:     Your sense of duty!
  FREDERIC: (wildly)  Don't put it on that footing!  As I was
            merciful to you just now, be merciful to me!  I implore
            you not to insist on the letter of your bond just as
            the cup of happiness is at my lips!
  RUTH:     We insist on nothing; we content ourselves with
            pointing out to you your duty.
  KING:     Your duty!
  FREDERIC: (after a pause)  Well, you have appealed to my sense of
            duty, and my duty is only too clear.  I abhor your
            infamous calling; I shudder at the thought that I have
            ever been mixed up with it; but duty is before all —
            at any price I will do my duty.
  KING:     Bravely spoken!  Come, you are one of us once more.
  FREDERIC: Lead on, I follow.  (Suddenly)  Oh, horror!
  KING/RUTH:     What is the matter?
  FREDERIC: Ought I to tell you?  No, no, I cannot do it; and yet,
            as one of your band—
  KING:     Speak out, I charge you by that sense of
            conscientiousness to which we have never yet appealed
            in vain.
  FREDERIC: General Stanley, the father of my Mabel—
  KING/RUTH:     Yes, yes!
  FREDERIC: He escaped from you on the plea that he was an orphan?
  KING:     He did.
  FREDERIC: It breaks my heart to betray the honoured father of the
            girl I adore, but as your apprentice I have no
            alternative.  It is my duty to tell you that General
            Stanley is no orphan!
  KING/RUTH:     What!
  FREDERIC: More than that, he never was one!
  KING:     Am I to understand that, to save his contemptible life,
            he dared to practice on our credulous simplicity?
            (FREDERIC nods as he weeps)  Our revenge shall be swift
            and terrible.  We will go and collect our band and
            attack Tremorden Castle this very night.
  FREDERIC: But stay—
  KING:     Not a word!  He is doomed!

                                   TRIO

            KING and RUTH:                           FREDERIC

  Away, away! my heart's on fire;       Away, away! ere I expire—
       I burn, this base deception to        I find my duty hard to
  do to-
             repay.                                day!
  This very night my vengeance dire     My heart is filled with
  anguish dire,
       Shall glut itself in gore.            It strikes me to the
  core.
             Away, away!                           Away, away!

  KING:          With falsehood foul
            He tricked us of our brides.
                 Let vengeance howl;
            The Pirate so decides.
                 Our nature stern
            He softened with his lies,
                 And, in return,
            To-night the traitor dies.

  ALL:      Yes, yes!  to-night the traitor dies!
            Yes, yes!  to-night the traitor dies!

  RUTH:     To-night he dies!
  KING:          Yes, or early to-morrow.
  FREDERIC: His girls likewise?
  RUTH:          They will welter in sorrow.
  KING:     The one soft spot
  RUTH:          In their natures they cherish—
  FREDERIC: And all who plot
  KING:          To abuse it shall perish!
  ALL:      To-night he dies, etc.

  (Exeunt KING and RUTH.  FREDERIC throws himself on a stone in
       blank despair.  Enter MABEL.)

                            RECIT—MABEL

            All is prepared, your gallant crew await you.
            My Frederic in tears?  It cannot be
            That lion-heart quails at the coming conflict?

  FREDERIC: No, Mabel, no.
            A terrible disclosure
            Has just been made.
            Mabel, my dearly-loved one,
            I bound myself to serve the pirate captain
            Until I reached my one-and-twentieth birthday—
  MABEL:    But you are twenty-one?
  FREDERIC:                I've just discovered
            That I was born in leap-year, and that birthday
            Will not be reached by me till nineteen forty!
  MABEL:    Oh, horrible!  catastrophe appalling!
  FREDERIC: And so, farewell!
  MABEL:         No, no!
            Ah, Frederic, hear me.

                          DUET—MABEL and FREDERIC

  MABEL:    Stay, Fred'ric, stay!
                 They have no legal claim,
                 No shadow of a shame
                 Will fall upon thy name.
            Stay, Frederic, stay!

  FREDERIC: Nay, Mabel, nay!
                 To-night I quit these walls,
                 The thought my soul appalls,
                 But when stern Duty calls,
            I must obey.

  MABEL:    Stay, Fred'ric, stay!
  FREDERIC:      Nay, Mabel, nay!
  MABEL:    They have no claim—
  FREDERIC:      But Duty's name.
                 The thought my soul appalls,
                 But when stern Duty calls,
  MABEL:    Stay, Fred'ric, stay!
  FREDERIC:      I must obey.

                            BALLAD—MABEL

            Ah, leave me not to pine
                 Alone and desolate;
            No fate seemed fair as mine,
                 No happiness so great!
            And Nature, day by day,
                 Has sung in accents clear
            This joyous roundelay,
                 "He loves thee— he is here.
                      Fa-la, la-la,
                      Fa-la, la-la.
                 He loves thee— he is here.
                      Fa-la, la-la, Fa-la."

  FREDERIC: Ah, must I leave thee here
                 In endless night to dream,
            Where joy is dark and drear,
                 And sorrow all supreme—
            Where nature, day by day,
                 Will sing, in altered tone,
            This weary roundelay,
                 "He loves thee— he is gone.
                      Fa-la, la-la,
                      Fa-la, la-la.
                 He loves thee— he is gone.
                      Fa-la, la-la, Fa-la."

  FREDERIC: In 1940 I of age shall be,
            I'll then return, and claim you—I declare it!
  MABEL:              It seems so long!
  FREDERIC: Swear that, till then, you will be true to me.
  MABEL:              Yes, I'll be strong!
            By all the Stanleys dead and gone, I swear it!

                              ENSEMBLE

            Oh, here is love, and here is truth,
                 And here is food for joyous laughter:
            He (she) will be faithful to his (her) sooth
                 Till we are wed, and even after.
                      Oh, here is love, etc.

       (FREDERIC rushes to window and leaps out)

  MABEL:    (almost fainting)  No, I am brave!  Oh, family descent,
            How great thy charm, thy sway how excellent!
            Come one and all, undaunted men in blue,
            A crisis, now, affairs are coming to!

       (Enter POLICE, marching in single file)

  SERGEANT:      Though in body and in mind
  POLICE:                  Tarantara!  tarantara!
  SERGEANT:      We are timidly inclined,
  POLICE:                  Tarantara!
  SERGEANT:      And anything but blind
  POLICE:                  Tarantara!  tarantara!
  SERGEANT:      To the danger that's behind,
  POLICE:                  Tarantara!
  SERGEANT:      Yet, when the danger's near,
  POLICE:                  Tarantara! tarantara!
  SERGEANT:      We manage to appear
  POLICE:                  Tarantara!
  SERGEANT:      As insensible to fear
                 As anybody here,
                 As anybody here.
  POLICE:                  Tarantara! tarantara!, etc.

  MABEL:    Sergeant, approach!  Young Frederic was to have led you
            to death and glory.
  POLICE:   That is not a pleasant way of putting it.
  MABEL:    No matter; he will not so lead you, for he has allied
            himself once more with his old associates.
  POLICE:   He has acted shamefully!
  MABEL:    You speak falsely.  You know nothing about it.  He has
            acted nobly.
  POLICE:   He has acted nobly!
  MABEL:    Dearly as I loved him before, his heroic sacrifice to
            his sense of duty has endeared him to me tenfold; but
            if it was his duty to constitute himself my foe, it is
            likewise my duty to regard him in that light.  He has
            done his duty.  I will do mine.  Go ye and do yours.
                                                       (Exit MABEL)
  POLICE:   Right oh!
  SERGEANT: This is perplexing.
  POLICE:   We cannot understand it at all.
  SERGEANT: Still, as he is actuated by a sense of duty—
  POLICE:   That makes a difference, of course.  At the same time,
            we repeat, we cannot understand it at all.
  SERGEANT: No matter.  Our course is clear:  we must do our best
            to capture these pirates alone.  It is most distressing
            to us to be the agents whereby our erring fellow-
            creatures are deprived of that liberty which is so dear
            to us all— but we should have thought of that before
            we joined the force.
  POLICE:   We should!
  SERGEANT: It is too late now!
  POLICE:   It is!

                               SOLO AND CHORUS

  SERGEANT: When a felon's not engaged in his employment
  POLICE:                  His employment
  SERGEANT: Or maturing his felonious little plans,
  POLICE:                  Little plans,
  SERGEANT: His capacity for innocent enjoyment
  POLICE:                  'Cent enjoyment
  SERGEANT: Is just as great as any honest man's.
  POLICE:                  Honest man's.
  SERGEANT: Our feelings we with difficulty smother
  POLICE:                  'Culty smother
  SERGEANT: When constabulary duty's to be done.
  POLICE:                  To be done.
  SERGEANT: Ah, take one consideration with another,
  POLICE:                  With another,
  SERGEANT: A policeman's lot is not a happy one.
  ALL:           Ah, when constabulary duty's to be done, to be
                      done,
                 A policeman's lot is not a happy one, happy one.
  SERGEANT: When the enterprising burglar's not a-burgling
  POLICE:                  Not a-burgling
  SERGEANT: When the cut-throat isn't occupied in crime,
  POLICE:                  'Pied in crime,
  SERGEANT: He loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling
  POLICE:                  Brook a-gurgling
  SERGEANT: And listen to the merry village chime.
  POLICE:                  Village chime.
  SERGEANT: When the coster's finished jumping on his mother,
  POLICE:                  On his mother,
  SERGEANT: He loves to lie a-basking in the sun.
  POLICE:                  In the sun.
  SERGEANT: Ah, take one consideration with another,
  POLICE:                  With another,
  SERGEANT: A policeman's lot is not a happy one.
  ALL:           Ah, when constabulary duty's to be done, to be
                      done,
                 A policeman's lot is not a happy one, happy one.

       (Chorus of Pirates without, in the distance)

            A rollicking band of pirates we,
            Who, tired of tossing on the sea,
            Are trying their hand at a burglaree,
                 With weapons grim and gory.

  SERGEANT: Hush, hush!  I hear them on the manor poaching,
            With stealthy step the pirates are approaching.

                (Chorus of Pirates, resumed nearer.)

            We are not coming for plate or gold;
            A story General Stanley's told;
            We seek a penalty fifty-fold,
                 For General Stanley's story.

  POLICE:   They seek a penalty
  PIRATES:            Fifty-fold!
            We seek a penalty
  POLICE:             Fifty-fold!
  ALL:      They (We) seek a penalty fifty-fold,
                 For General Stanley's story.
  SERGEANT: They come in force, with stealthy stride,
            Our obvious course is now—to hide.
  POLICE:             Tarantara!  Tarantara!  etc.

  (Police conceal themselves in aisle. As they do so, the Pirates,
       with RUTH and FREDERIC, are seen appearing at ruined window.
       They enter cautiously, and come down stage on tiptoe.
       SAMUEL is laden with burglarious tools and pistols, etc.)

                      CHORUS—PIRATES (very loud)

            With cat-like tread,
                 Upon our prey we steal;
            In silence dread,
                 Our cautious way we feel.
            No sound at all!
                 We never speak a word;
            A fly's foot-fall
                 Would be distinctly heard—
  POLICE:   (softly)       Tarantara, tarantara!
  PIRATES:  So stealthily the pirate creeps,
            While all the household soundly sleeps.
            Come, friends, who plough the sea,
                 Truce to navigation;
                 Take another station;
            Let's vary piracee
            With a little burglaree!
  POLICE:   (softly)       Tarantara, tarantara!
  SAMUEL:   (distributing implements to various members of the
                 gang)
            Here's your crowbar and your centrebit,
            Your life-preserver—you may want to hit!
            Your silent matches, your dark lantern seize,
            Take your file and your skeletonic keys.
  POLICE:   Tarantara!
  PIRATES:       With cat-like tread
  POLICE:   Tarantara!
  PIRATES:       in silence dread,

            (Enter KING, FREDERIC and RUTH)

  ALL (fortissimo).   With cat-like tread, etc.

                                RECIT

  FREDERIC: Hush, hush!  not a word; I see a light inside!
            The Major-Gen'ral comes, so quickly hide!
  PIRATES:       Yes, yes, the Major-General comes!

                          (Exeunt KING, FREDERIC, SAMUEL, and RUTH)

  POLICE:        Yes, yes, the Major-General comes!
  GENERAL:  (entering in dressing-gown, carrying a light)
                 Yes, yes, the Major-General comes!

                            SOLO—GENERAL

                 Tormented with the anguish dread
                      Of falsehood unatoned,
                 I lay upon my sleepless bed,
                      And tossed and turned and groaned.
                 The man who finds his conscience ache
                      No peace at all enjoys;
                 And as I lay in bed awake,
                      I thought I heard a noise.
  MEN:      He thought he heard a noise—  ha! ha!
  GENERAL:            No, all is still
                      In dale, on hill;
                 My mind is set at ease—
                      So still the scene,
                      It must have been
                 The sighing of the breeze.

                           BALLAD—GENERAL

            Sighing softly to the river
                 Comes the loving breeze,
            Setting nature all a-quiver,
                 Rustling through the trees.
  MEN:                     Through the trees.
  GENERAL:  And the brook, in rippling measure,
                 Laughs for very love,
            While the poplars, in their pleasure,
                 Wave their arms above.
  MEN:      Yes, the trees, for very love,
            Wave their leafy arms above.
  ALL:      River, river, little river,
            May thy loving prosper ever!
            Heaven speed thee, poplar tree,
            May thy wooing happy be.
  GENERAL:  Yet, the breeze is but a rover,
                 When he wings away,
            Brook and poplar mourn a lover
                 Sighing,"Well-a-day!"
  MEN:                          Well-a-day!
  GENERAL:  Ah!  the doing and undoing,
                 That the rogue could tell!
            When the breeze is out a-wooing,
                 Who can woo so well?

  MEN:      Shocking tales the rogue could tell,
            Nobody can woo so well.
  ALL:           Pretty brook, thy dream is over,
                 For thy love is but a rover;
            Sad the lot of poplar trees,
            Courted by a fickle breeze!

  (Enter the MAJOR-GENERAL's daughters, led by MABEL, all in white
       peignoirs and night-caps, and carrying lighted candles.)

  GIRLS:    Now what is this, and what is that, and why does father
                 leave his rest
            At such a time of night as this, so very incompletely
                 dressed?
            Dear father is, and always was, the most methodical of
                 men!
            It's his invariable rule to go to bed at half-past ten.
            What strange occurrence can it be that calls dear
                 father from his rest
            At such a time of night as this, so very incompletely
                 dressed?

       (Enter KING, SAMUEL, and FREDERIC)

  KING:     Forward, my men, and seize that General there!  His
            life is over.  (They seize the GENERAL)
  GIRLS:    The pirates!  the pirates!  Oh, despair!
  PIRATES:  (springing up)  Yes, we're the pirates, so despair!
  GENERAL:  Frederic here!  Oh, joy!  Oh. rapture!
            Summon your men and effect their capture!
  MABEL:    Frederic, save us!
  FREDERIC:                Beautiful Mabel,
            I would if I could, but I am not able.
  PIRATES:  He's telling the truth, he is not able.
  KING:     With base deceit
                 You worked upon our feelings!
            Revenge is sweet,
                 And flavours all our dealings!
            With courage rare
                 And resolution manly,
            For death prepare,
                 Unhappy Gen'ral Stanley.

  MABEL:    (wildly)  Is he to die, unshriven, unannealed?
  GIRLS:                        Oh, spare him!
  MABEL:    Will no one in his cause a weapon wield?
  GIRLS:                        Oh, spare him!
  POLICE:   (springing up)  Yes, we are here, though hitherto
                 concealed!
  GIRLS:                        Oh, rapture!
  POLICE:   So to Constabulary, pirates yield!
  GIRLS:                        Oh, rapture!

  (A struggle ensues between Pirates and Police, RUTH tackling the
       SERGEANT.  Eventually the Police are overcome and fall
       prostrate, the Pirates standing over them with drawn
       swords.)

                    CHORUS OF PIRATES AND POLICE

                PIRATES                               POLICE

  We triumph now, for well we           You triumph now, for well we
       trow                                  trow
  Your mortal career's cut short;       Our mortal career's cut
  short;
  No pirate band will take its          No pirate band will take its
       stand                                 stand
  At the Central Criminal Court.        At the Central Criminal
  Court.

  SERGEANT: To gain a brief advantage you've contrived,
            But your proud triumph will not be long-lived
  KING:     Don't say you are orphans, for we know that game.
  SERGEANT: On your allegiance we've a stronger claim.
            We charge you yield, we charge you yield,
            In Queen Victoria's name!
  KING:     (baffled)  You do?
  POLICE:                       We do!
            We charge you yield,
            In Queen Victoria's name!

              (PIRATES kneel, POLICE stand over them triumphantly.)

  KING:     We yield at once, with humbled mien,
            Because, with all our faults, we love our Queen.
  POLICE:   Yes, yes, with all their faults, they love their Queen.
  ALL:      Yes, yes, with all their faults, they love their Queen.

  (POLICE, holding PIRATES by the collar, take out handkerchiefs
       and weep.)

  GENERAL:  Away with them, and place them at the bar!

                             (Enter RUTH)

  RUTH:     One moment!  let me tell you who they are.
            They are no members of the common throng;
            They are all noblemen who have gone wrong.
  ALL:      They are all noblemen who have gone wrong.
  GENERAL:  No Englishman unmoved that statement hears,
            Because, with all our faults, we love our House of
                 Peers.                                 (All kneel)
            I pray you, pardon me, ex-Pirate King!
            Peers will be peers, and youth will have its fling.
            Resume your ranks and legislative duties,
            And take my daughters, all of whom are beauties.

                  FINALE—MABEL, EDITH and ENSEMBLE

                 Poor wandering ones!
                      Though ye have surely strayed,
                      Take heart of grace,
                      Your steps retrace,
                 Poor wandering ones!
                 Poor wandering ones!
                      If such poor love as ours
                      Can help you find
                      True peace of mind,
                 Why, take it, it is yours!

  ALL: Poor wandering ones! etc.
                                END OF OPERA





PRINCESS IDA
  OR

  CASTLE ADAMANT
  libretto by William S. Gilbert

  music by Arthur S. Sullivan
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  King Hildebrand
  Hilarion (His son)

  Hilarion's friends:
      Cyril
      Florian

  King Gama

  His sons:
      Arac
      Guron
      Scynthius
  Princess Ida      (Gama's daughter)
  Lady Blanche      (Professor of Abstract Science)
  Lady Psyche       (Professor of Humanities)
  Melissa           (Lady Blanche's Daughter)

  Girl Graduates:
      Sacharissa
      Chloe
      Ada

  Soldiers, Courtiers, "Girl Graduates," "Daughters of the Plough,"
  etc.
                               ACT I

  Pavilion in King Hildebrand's Palace

                               ACT II

  Gardens of Castle Adamant

                              ACT III

  Courtyard of Castle Adamant





ACT I.
  SCENE.       Pavilion attached to King Hildebrand's Palace.
               Soldiers and courtiers discovered looking out through
               opera-glasses, telescopes, etc., Florian leading.

                             CHORUS AND SOLO (Florian)
                         "Search throughout the panorama"

  Chorus:      Search throughout the panorama
               For a sign of royal Gama,
                    Who to-day should cross the water
                    With his fascinating daughter—
                          Ida is her name.

               Some misfortune evidently
               Has detained them — consequently
                    Search throughout the panorama
                    For the daughter of King Gama,
                          Prince Hilarion's flame!
                          Prince Hilarion's flame!

                                  SOLO - Florian

  Florian:     Will Prince Hilarion's hopes be sadly blighted?

  Chorus:                             Who can tell?  Who can tell?

  Florian:     Will Ida break the vows that she has plighted?

  Chorus:                             Who can tell?  Who can tell?

  Florian:     Will she back out, and say she did not mean them?

  Chorus:                             Who can tell?

  Florian:     If so, there'll be the deuce to pay between them!

  Chorus:           No, no — we'll not despair, we'll not despair,
                    For Gama would not dare
                    To make a deadly foe
                    Of Hildebrand, and so,
                          Search through the panorama
                          For a sign of royal Gama,
                          Who today should cross the water
                          With his fascinating daughter—
                          Ida, Ida is her name.

                                              (Enter King Hildebrand
  with Cyril)

  Hildebd:     See you no sign of Gama?

  Florian:                            None, my liege!

  Hildebd:     It's very odd indeed.  If Gama fail
               To put in an appearance at our Court
               Before the sun has set in yonder west,
               And fail to bring the Princess Ida here
               To whom our son Hilarion was betrothed
               At the extremely early age of one,
               There's war between King Gama and ourselves!
                    (aside to Cyril)
               Oh, Cyril, how I dread this interview!
               It's twenty years since he and I have met.
               He was a twisted monster — all awry——
               As though Dame Nature, angry with her work,
               Had crumpled it in fitful petulance!

  Cyril:       But, sir, a twisted and ungainly trunk
               Often bears goodly fruit.  Perhaps he was
               A kind, well-spoken gentleman?

  Hildebd:                                        Oh, no!
               For, adder-like, his sting lay in his tongue.
               (His "sting" is present, though his "stung" is past.)

  Florian:     (looking through glass)
               But stay, my liege; o'er yonder mountain's brow
               Comes a small body, bearing Gama's arms;
               And now I look more closely at it, sir,
               I see attached to it King Gama's legs;
               From which I gather this corollary
               That that small body must be Gama's own!

  Hildebd:     Ha! Is the Princess with him?

  Florian:                                  Well, my liege,
                    Unless her highness is full six feet high,
               And wears mustachios too — and smokes cigars——
               And rides en cavalier in coat of steel——
               I do not think she is.

  Hildebd:                                  One never knows.
               She's a strange girl, I've heard, and does odd
                    things!
               Come, bustle there!
               For Gama place the richest robes we own——
               For Gama place the coarsest prison dress——
               For Gama let our best spare bed be aired——
               For Gama let our deepest dungeon yawn——
               For Gama lay the costliest banquet out——
               For Gama place cold water and dry bread!
               For as King Gama brings the Princess here,
               Or brings her not, so shall King Gama have
               Much more than everything — much less than nothing!

                           SONG (Hildebrand and Chorus)
                        "Now Hearken to my Strict Command"

  Hildebd:          Now hearken to my strict command
                    On every hand, on every hand——

  Chorus:                       To your command,
                                On every hand,
                          We dutifully bow.

  Hildebd:          If Gama bring the Princess here,
                    Give him good cheer, give him good cheer.

  Chorus:                       If she come here
                                We'll give him a cheer,
                          And we will show you how.
                    Hip, hip, hurrah! hip, hip, hurrah!
                    Hip, hip, hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
                                We'll shout and sing
                                Long live the King,
                          And his daughter, too, I trow!
                    Then shout ha! ha! hip, hip, hurrah!
                    Hip, hip, hip, hip, hurrah!
                    For the fair Princess and her good papa,
                          Hurrah, hurrah!

  Hildebd:          But if he fail to keep his troth,
                    Upon our oath, we'll trounce them both!

  Chorus:                       He'll trounce them both,
                                Upon his oath,
                          As sure as quarter-day!

  Hildebd:          We'll shut him up in a dungeon cell,
                    And toll his knell on a funeral bell.

  Chorus:                       From his dungeon cell,
                                His funeral knell
                          Shall strike him with dismay!
                    Hip, hip, hurrah! hip, hip, hurrah!
                    Hip, hip, hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
                                As up we string
                                The faithless King,
                          In the old familiar way!
                    We'll shout ha! ha! hip, hip, hurrah!
                    Hip, hip, hip, hip, hurrah!
                    As we make an end of her false papa,
                                Hurrah, hurrah!

  (Exeunt all)

                               (Enter Hilarion)

                          RECITATIVE AND SONG (Hilarion)
                                  "Today we meet"

                               RECITATIVE - Hilarion

               To-day we meet, my baby bride and I—
                    But ah, my hopes are balanc'd by my fears!
               What transmutations have been conjur'd by
                    The silent alchemy of twenty years!

                                 BALLAD - Hilarion

               Ida was a twelve-month old,
                    Twenty years ago!
               I was twice her age, I'm told,
                    Twenty years ago!
               Husband twice as old as wife
               Argues ill for married life
               Baleful prophecies were rife,
                    Twenty years ago,
               Twenty years ago!

               Still, I was a tiny prince
                    Twenty years ago.
               She has gained upon me, since
                    Twenty years ago.
               Though she's twenty-one, it's true,
               I am barely twenty-two—
               False and foolish prophets you
                    Twenty years ago,
                    Twenty years ago!

                            (Enter Hildebrand)

  Hilarion:    Well, father, is there news for me at last?

  Hildebd:     King Gama is in sight, but much I fear
               With no Princess!

  Hilarion:                     Alas, my liege, I've heard,
               That Princess Ida has forsworn the world,
               And, with a band of women, shut herself
               Within a lonely country house, and there
               Devotes herself to stern philosophies!

  Hildebd:     Then I should say the loss of such a wife
               Is one to which a reasonable man
               Would easily be reconciled.

  Hilarion:                     Oh, no!
               Or I am not a reasonable man.
               She is my wife — has been for twenty years!
               (Holding glass) I think I see her now.

  Hildebd:                      Ha!  Let me look!

  Hilarion:    In my mind's eye, I mean — a blushing bride
               All bib and tucker, frill and furbelow!
               How exquisite she looked as she was borne,
               Recumbent, in her foster-mother's arms!
               How the bride wept — nor would be comforted
               Until the hireling mother-for-the-nonce
               Administered refreshment in the vestry.
               And I remember feeling much annoyed
               That she should weep at marrying with me.
               But then I thought, "These brides are all alike.
               You cry at marrying me?  How much more cause
               You'd have to cry if it were broken off!"
               These were my thoughts; I kept them to myself,
               For at that age I had not learnt to speak.

                                                (Exeunt Hildebrand
  and Hilarion)

                               (Enter Courtiers)

                                      CHORUS
                            "From the distant panorama"

  Chorus:           From the distant panorama
                    Come the sons of royal Gama.
                          They are heralds evidently,
                          And are sacred consequently,
                                Sons of Gama, hail! oh, hail!

  (Enter Arac, Guron, and Scynthius)

                     TRIO (Arac, Guron, Scynthius and Chorus)
                              "We are Warriors Three"

                                    SONG - Arac

  Arac:                   We are warriors three,
                                Sons of Gama, Rex,
                          Like most sons are we,
                                Masculine in sex.

  All Three:                          Yes, yes, yes,
                                Masculine in sex.

  Arac:                   Politics we bar,
                                They are not our bent;
                          On the whole we are
                                Not intelligent.

  All Three:                          No, no, no,
                                Not intelligent.

  Arac:                   But with doughty heart,
                                And with trusty blade
                          We can play our part—
                                Fighting is our trade.

  All Three:                          Yes, yes, yes,
                                Fighting is our trade.

                          Bold and fierce, and strong, ha! ha!
                                For a war we burn,
                          With its right or wrong, ha! ha!
                                We have no concern.
                          Order comes to fight, ha! ha!
                                Order is obey'd,
                          We are men of might, ha! ha!
                                Fighting is our trade.
                                      Yes — yes, yes,
                                Fighting is our trade, ha! ha!

     THE THREE PRINCIPALS                      CHORUS
  Fighting is our trade, ha
  ha!                                 They are men of might, ha! ha!
                                      Fighting is their trade.
                                      Order comes to fight, ha! ha!
                                      Order is obey'd!
                                      Order comes to fight!
  Ha, Ha!
                                      Order is obey'd!
  Fighting                            Fighting
  is.  Yes, yes, yes,                 is
  Fighting is our trade, ha           their
  Ha!                                 trade!

                             (Enter King Gama)

                                SONG (Gama)
                          "If you give me your Attention"

  Gama:        If you give me your attention, I will tell you what I
                    am:
               I'm a genuine philanthropist — all other kinds are
                    sham.
               Each little fault of temper and each social defect
               In my erring fellow-creatures, I endeavour to correct.
               To all their little weaknesses I open people's eyes;
               And little plans to snub the self-sufficient I devise;
               I love my fellow creatures — I do all the good I
  can—
               Yet ev'rybody says I'm such a disagreeable man!
                    And I can't think why!

               To compliments inflated I've a withering reply;
               And vanity I always do my best to mortify;
               A charitable action I can skillfully dissect;
               And interested motives I'm delighted to detect;
               I know ev'rybody's income and what ev'rybody earns;
               And I carefully compare it with the income-tax
  returns;
               But to benefit humanity however much I plan,
               Yet ev'rybody says I'm such a disagreeable man!
                    And I can't think why!

               I'm sure I'm no ascetic; I'm as pleasant as can be;
               You'll always find me ready with a crushing repartee,
               I've an irritating chuckle, I've a celebrated sneer,
               I've an entertaining snigger, I've a fascinating leer.
               To ev'rybody's prejudice I know a thing or two;
               I can tell a woman's age in half a minute — and I do.
               But although I try to make myself as pleasant as I
  can,
               Yet ev'rybody says I'm such a disagreeable man!
                    And I can't think why!

  Chorus:           He can't think why!
                    He can't think why!

  (Enter Hildebrand, Hilarion, Cyril and Florian)

  Gama:        So this is Castle Hildebrand?  Well, well!
               Dame Rumour whispered that the place was grand;
               She told me that your taste was exquisite,
               Superb, unparalleled!

  Hildebnd:    (Gratified)            Oh, really, King!

  Gama:        But she's a liar!  Why, how old you've grown!
               Is this Hilarion?  Why, you've changed too—
               You were a singularly handsome child!
  (To Florian)      Are you a courtier?  Come, then ply your trade,
               Tell me some lies.  How do you like your King?
               Vile rumour says he's all but imbecile.
               Now, that's not true?

  Florian:                            My lord, we love our King.
               His wise remarks are valued by his court
               As precious stones.

  Gama:                               And for the self-same cause.
               Like precious stones, his sensible remarks
               Derive their value from their scarcity!
               Come now, be honest, tell the truth for once!
               Tell it of me.  Come, come, I'll harm you not.
               This leg is crooked — this foot is ill-designed—
               This shoulder wears a hump!  Come, out with it!
               Look, here's my face!  Now, am I not the worst
               Of Nature's blunders?

  Cyril:                              Nature never errs.
               To those who know the workings of your mind,
               Your face and figure, sir, suggest a book
               Appropriately bound.

  Gama: (Enraged)                     Why, harkye, sir,
               How dare you bandy words with me?

  Cyril:                                          No need
               To bandy aught that appertains to you.

  Gama: (Furiously)  Do you permit this, King?

  Hildebd:                            We are in doubt
               Whether to treat you as an honoured guest
               Or as a traitor knave who plights his word
               And breaks it.

  Gama: (Quickly)               If the casting vote's with me,
               I give it for the former!

  Hildebd:                            We shall see.
               By the terms of our contract, signed and sealed,
               You're bound to bring the Princess here to-day:
               Why is she not with you?

  Gama:                                     Answer me this:
               What think you of a wealthy purse-proud man,
               Who, when he calls upon a starving friend,
               Pulls out his gold and flourishes his notes,
               And flashes diamonds in the pauper's eyes?
               What name have you for such an one?

  Hildebd:                                        A snob.

  Gama:        Just so.  The girl has beauty, virtue, wit,
               Grace, humour, wisdom, charity and pluck.
               Would it be kindly, think you, to parade
               These brilliant qualities before your eyes?
               Oh no, King Hildebrand, I am no snob!

  Hildebd: (Furiously)  Stop that tongue,
               Or you shall lose the monkey head that holds it!

  Gama:        Bravo!  Your King deprives me of my head,
               That he and I may meet on equal terms!

  Hildebd:     Where is she now?  (Threatening)

  Gama:                                     In Castle Adamant,
               One of my many country houses.  There
               She rules a woman's University,
               With full a hundred girls, who learn of her.

  Cyril:       A hundred girls!  A hundred ecstasies!

  Gama:        But no mere girls, my good young gentleman;
               With all the college learning that you boast,
               The youngest there will prove a match for you.

  Cyril:       With all my heart, if she's the prettiest!
  (To Florian)  Fancy, a hundred matches — all alight!—
               That's if I strike them as I hope to do!

  Gama:        Despair your hope; their hearts are dead to men.
               He who desires to gain their favour must
               Be qualified to strike their teeming brains,
               And not their hearts.  They're safety matches, sir,
               And they light only on the knowledge box—
               So you've no chance!

  Florian:     And there are no males whatever in those walls?

  Gama:        None, gentlemen, excepting letter mails—
               And they are driven (as males often are
               In other large communities) by women.
               Why, bless my heart, she's so particular
               She'll hardly suffer Dr. Watts's hymns—
               And all the animals she owns are "hers"!
               The ladies rise at cockcrow every morn—

  Cyril:       Ah, then they have male poultry?

  Gama:                                           Not at all,
  (Confidentially)        The crowing's done by an accomplished hen!

                                   FINALE
               (Gama, Hildebrand, Cyril, Hilarion, Florian
                       and Chorus of Girls and Men)

                            DUET (Gama and Hildebrand)
                         "P'raps if you Address the Lady"

  Gama:             P'raps if you address the lady
                          Most politely, most politely—
                    Flatter and impress the lady,
                          Most politely, most politely,—
                    Humbly beg and humbly sue—
                    She may deign to look on you,
                    But your doing you must do
                          Most politely, most politely, most
  politely!

  All:              Humbly beg and humbly sue,
                          She may deign to look on you,
                    But your doing you must do
                          Most politely, most politely, most
  politely!

  Hildebd:          Go you and inform the lady,
                          Most politely, most politely,
                    If she don't, we'll storm the lady
                          Most politely, most politely!

  (To Gama)         You'll remain as hostage here;
                    Should Hillarion disappear,
                    We will hang you, never fear,
                          Most politely, most politely, most
  politely!

  All:              He'll [I'll] [You'll] remain as hostage here.
                    Should Hilarion disappear,
                    They [We] will hang me [you] never fear,
                          Most politely, most politely, most
  politely!

  (Gama, Arac, Guron and Scynthius are marched off in custody,
               Hildebrand following)

                              RECITATIVE — Hilarion

                    Come, Cyril, Florian, our course is plain,
                          To-morrow morn fair Ida we'll engage;
                    But we will use no force her love to gain,
                          Nature, nature has arm'd us for the war we
                                wage!

                       TRIO — Hilarion, Cyril, and Florian

  Hilarion:                     Expressive glances
                                Shall be our lances,
                                      And pops of Sillery
                                      Our light artillery.
                                We'll storm their bowers
                                With scented showers
                                Of fairest flowers
                                      That we can buy!

  Chorus:                                   Oh, dainty triolet!
                                            Oh, fragrant violet!
                                            Oh, gentle heigho-let!
                                                  (Or little sigh).
                                On sweet urbanity,
                                Through mere inanity,
                                To touch their vanity
                                      We will rely!

  Cyril:                        When day is fading,
                                With serenading
                                      And such frivolity
                                      We'll prove our quality.
                                A sweet profusion
                                Of soft allusion
                                This bold intrusion
                                      Shall justify,
                                This bold intrusion
                                      Shall justify.

  Chorus:                                   Oh, dainty triolet!
                                            Oh, fragrant violet!
                                            Oh, gentle heigho-let!
                                                  (Or little sigh).
                                On sweet urbanity,
                                Through mere inanity,
                                To touch their vanity
                                      We will rely!

  Florian:                      We'll charm their senses
                                With verbal fences,
                                      With ballads amatory
                                      And declamatory.
                                Little heeding
                                Their pretty pleading,
                                Our love exceeding
                                      We'll justify!
                                Our love exceeding
                                      We'll justify!

  Chorus:                                   Oh, dainty triolet!
                                            Oh, fragrant violet!
                                            Oh, gentle heigho-let!
                                                  (Or little sigh).
                                On sweet urbanity,
                                Through mere inanity,
                                To touch their vanity
                                      We will rely!

  Sops:        Oh dainty                    Altos, Tenors, and
  Basses:
               triolet! Oh fragrant                     Oh
               violet! Oh                               dain-
               gentle                                   ty
               heigh-o-let! (Or                         tri-
               little                                   o-
               sigh).                                   let!

  Hilarion & Cyril:
               Oh dainty                    Chorus:
               triolet! Oh fragrant               Oh
               violet (Add Florian) Oh            fra-
               gentle                             grant
               heigh-o-let! (Or                   vi-
               little                             o-
               sigh).                             let!

  Sops & Altos:                             Tenors & Basses:
               Oh dainty                          Oh dainty
               triolet! Oh                        tri-
               fragrant                           o-
               violet                             let!

  All:         Oh dainty triolet!
               Oh fragrant violet!

  (Re-enter Gama, Arac, Guron, and Scynthius heavily ironed, followed
               by Hildebrand)

                                    RECITATIVE

  Gama:        Must we, till then, in prison cell be thrust?

  Hildebd:                                              You must!

  Gama:        This seems unnecessarily severe!
  Arac, Guron
  & Scyn:      Hear, hear!

                         TRIO - Arac, Guron and Scynthius

                                For a month to dwell
                                In a dungeon cell:
                                      Growing thin and wizen
                                      In a solitary prison,
                                Is a poor look out
                                For a soldier stout,
                                      Who is longing for the rattle
                                      Of a complicated battle—
                                For the rum - tum  - tum
                                Of the military drum
                                      And the guns that go boom!
  boom!

  All:              The rum — tum — tum
                    Of the military drum,
                    Rum — tum — tum — tummy tummy tummy tummy tum
                    Who is longing for the rattle of a complicated
                          battle—
                    For the rum tum tum
                    Of the military drum!
                    Prr, prr, prr, ra — pum — pum!

  Hildebd:                When Hilarion's bride
                          Has at length complied
                                With the just conditions
                                Of our requisitions,
                          You may go in haste
                          And indulge your taste
                                For the fascinating rattle
                                Of a complicated battle—
                          For the rum - tum - tum,
                          Of the military drum,
                                And the guns that go boom! boom!

  All:              The rum — tum — tum
                    Of the military drum,
                    Rum — tum — tum — tummy tummy tummy tummy tum!
                          Who is longing for the rattle
                          Of a complicated battle
                    For the rum — tum — tum
                    Of the military drum!
                          Tum, prr — prr — prr ra — pum, pum!

               But til that time you'll [we'll] here remain,
               And bail we [they] will not entertain,
               Should she our [his] mandate disobey,
               Your [Our] lives the penalty will pay!
               But till that time you'll [we'll] here remain,
               And bail we [they] will not entertain.
               Should she our [his] mandate disobey,
               Your [Our] lives the penalty will pay!
               Should she our [his] mandate disobey,
               Your [Our] lives the penalty will pay!

                              (Gama, Arac, Guron, and Synthius are
  marched off.)

                                   END OF ACT I





ACT II
  SCENE        Gardens in Castle Adamant.  A river runs across the
               back of the stage, crossed by a rustic bridge.  Castle
               Adamant in the distance.

               Girl Graduates discovered seated at the feet of Lady
                    Psyche

           CHORUS OF GIRLS & SOLOS (Lady Psyche, Melissa and
  Sacharissa)
                          "Towards the empyrean heights"

  Chorus:           Towards the empyrean heights
                          Of ev'ry kind of lore,
                    We've taken several easy flights,
                          And mean to take some more.
                    In trying to achieve success
                          No envy racks our heart,
                    And all the knowledge we possess,
                          We mutually impart.

                                  SOLO — Melissa

                    Pray, what authors should she read
                    Who in Classics would succeed?

                                  SOLO — Psyche

                    If you'd climb the Helicon,
                    You should read Anacreon,
                    Ovid's Metamorphoses,
                    Likewise Aristophanes,
                    And the works of Juvenal:
                    These are worth attention, all;
                    But, if you will be advised,
                    You will get them Bowdlerized!

  Chorus:           Ah! we will get them Bowdlerized!

                                SOLO — Sacharissa

                    Pray you, tell us, if you can,
                    What's the thing that's known as Man?

                                  SOLO — Psyche

                    Man will swear and man will storm—
                    Man is not at all good form—
                    Is of no kind of use—
                    Man's a donkey — Man's a goose—
                    Man is coarse and Man is plain—
                    Man is more or less insane—
                    Man's a ribald — Man's a rake,
                    Man is Nature's sole mistake!

  Chorus:           We'll a memorandum make—
                    Man is Nature's sole mistake!

                    And thus to empyrean height
                          Of ev'ry kind of lore,
                    In search of wisdom's pure delight,
                          Ambitiously we soar.
                    In trying to achieve success
                          No envy racks our heart,
                    For all we know and all we guess
                          We mutually impart!
                    And all the knowledge we possess,
                          We mutually impart,
                          We mutually impart, impart.

  (Enter Lady Blanche.  All stand up demurely)

  Blanche:     Attention, ladies, while I read to you
               The Princess Ida's list of punishments.
               The first is Sacharissa.  She's expelled!

  All:         Expelled!

  Blan.:                  Expelled, because although she knew
               No man of any kind may pass our walls,
               She dared to bring a set of chessmen here!

  Sach.:       (Crying)  I meant no harm; they're only men of wood!

  Blan.:       They're men with whom you give each other mate,
               And that's enough!  The next is Chloe.

  Chloe:                                                      Ah!

  Blan.:       Chloe will lose three terms, for yesterday,
               When looking through her drawing-book, I found
               A sketch of a perambulator!

  All: (Horrified)                                      Oh!

  Blan.:       Double perambulator...

  All:         Oh, oh!

  Blan.:                           ...shameless girl!
               That's all at present.  Now, attention, pray;
               Your Principal the Princess comes to give
               Her usual inaugural address
               To those young ladies who joined yesterday.

                                  CHORUS OF GIRLS
                          "Mighty maiden with a mission"

  Girls:            Mighty maiden with a mission,
                          Paragon of common sense,
                    Running fount of erudition,
                          Miracle of eloquence,
                                          Altos:  We are blind and we
  would see;
  Sops:             We are bound, and would be free;

  Girls:            We are dumb, and we would talk;
                    We are lame, and we would walk.
                                                            (Enter
  the Princess)
                    Mighty maiden with a mission—
                          Paragon of common sense;
                    Running found of erudition—
                          Miracle of eloquence, of eloquence!

                           RECITATIVE & ARIA (Princess)
                              "Minerva! Oh, hear Me"

  Princess:               Minerva! Minerva!
                          Oh, hear me:
                          Oh, goddess wise
                                That lovest light
                                Endow with sight
                          Their unillumin'd eyes.

                          At this my call,
                          A fervent few
                                Have come to woo
                          The rays that from thee fall,
                          That from thee fall.
                          Oh, goddess wise
                                That lovest light,
                                That lovest light,

               Let fervent words and fervent thoughts be mine,
               That I may lead them to thy sacred shrine!
               Let fervent words and fervent thoughts be mine,
               That I may lead them to thy sacred shrine,
               I may lead them to thy sacred shrine, thy sacred
  shrine!

  Princess:    Women of Adamant, fair Neophytes—
               Who thirst for such instruction as we give,
               Attend, while I unfold a parable.
               The elephant is mightier than Man,
               Yet Man subdues him.  Why?  The elephant
               Is elephantine everywhere but here (tapping her
                    forehead),
               And Man, whose brain is to the elephant's
               As Woman's brain to Man's - (that's rule of three),—
               Conquers the foolish giant of the woods,
               As Woman, in her turn, shall conquer Man.
               In Mathematics, Woman leads the way;
               The narrow-minded pedant still believes
               That two and two make four!  Why, we can prove,
               We women — household drudges as we are—
               That two and two make five — or three — or seven;
               Or five and twenty, if the case demands!
               Diplomacy?  The wiliest diplomat
               Is absolutely helpless in our hands.
               He wheedles monarchs — Woman wheedles him!
               Logic?  Why, tyrant Man himself admits
               It's a waste of time to argue with a woman!
               Then we excel in social qualities:
               Though man professes that he holds our sex
               In utter scorn, I venture to believe
               He'd rather pass the day with one of you,
               Than with five hundred of his fellow-men!
               In all things we excel.  Believing this,
               A hundred maidens here have sworn to place
               Their feet upon his neck.  If we succeed,
               We'll treat him better than he treated us:
               But if we fail, why, then let hope fail too!
               Let no one care a penny how she looks—
               Let red be worn with yellow — blue with green—
               Crimson with scarlet — violet with blue!
               Let all your things misfit, and you yourselves
               At inconvenient moments come undone!
               Let hair-pins lose their virtue: let the hook
               Disdain the fascination of the eye—
               The bashful button modestly evade
               The soft embraces of the button-hole!
               Let old associations all dissolve,
               Let Swan secede from Edgar — Gask from Gask,
               Sewell from Cross — Lewis from Allenby!
               In other words, let Chaos come again!
  (Coming down)  Who lectures in the Hall of Arts to-day?

  Blanche:     I, madam, on Abstract Philosophy.
               There I propose considering, at length,
               Three points — The Is, the Might Be, and the Must.
               Whether the Is, from being actual fact,
               Is more important than the vague Might Be,
               Or the Might Be, from taking wider scope,
               Is for that reason greater than the Is:
               And lastly, how the Is and Might Be stand
               Compared with the inevitable Must!

  Princess:    The subject's deep — how do you treat it, pray?

  Blan.:       Madam, I take three possibilities,
               And strike a balance then between the three:
               As thus:  The Princess Ida Is our head,
               the Lady Psyche Might Be, — Lady Blanche,
               Neglected Blanche, inevitably Must.
               Given these three hypotheses — to find
               The actual betting against each of them!

  Princess:    Your theme's ambitious: pray you bear in mind
               Who highest soar fall farthest.  Fare you well,
               You and your pupils!  Maidens, follow me.

                                                   [Exeunt Princess
  and maidens.
                                                             Manet
  Lady Blanche.

                          EXEUNT FOR PRINCESS IDA & GIRLS
                           "And thus to Empyrean Height"

  Chorus:           And thus to empyrean height
                          Of ev'ry kind of lore,
                    In search of wisdom's pure delight,
                          Ambitiously we soar.
                    In trying to achieve success
                          No envy racks our heart,
                    For all we know and all we guess
                          We mutually impart!
                    And all the knowledge we possess,
                          We mutually impart,
                          We mutually impart, impart.

  Blan.:       I should command here — I was born to rule,
               But do I rule?  I don't.  Why?  I don't know.
               I shall some day.  Not yet, I bide my time.
               I once was Some One — and the Was Will Be.
               The Present as we speak becomes the Past,
               The Past repeats itself, and so is Future!
               This sounds involved.  It's not.  It's right enough.

             (Since 1935 the following song has been usually omitted)
                                SONG (Lady Blanche)
                               "Come, mighty Must!"

  Blanche:          Come mighty Must!
                          Inevitable Shall!
                    In thee I trust.
                          Time weaves my coronal!
                    Go, mocking Is!
                          Go, disappointing Was!
                    That I am this
                          Ye are the cursed cause!
                          Ye are the cursed cause!
                    Yet humble second shall be first,
                          I wean
                    And dead and buried be the curst
                          Has Been!

                    Oh, weak Might Be!
                          Oh, May, Might, Could, Would, Should!
                    How pow'rless ye
                          For evil or for good!
                    In ev'ry sense
                          Your moods I cheerless call.
                    Whate'er your tense
                          Ye are imperfect all.
                    Ye have deceiv'd the trust I've shown
                          In ye!
                    Ye have deceiv'd the trust I've shown
                          In ye!
                          I've shown in ye!
                    Away! The Mighty Must alone
                          Shall be!
                                                              [Exit
  Lady Blanche

  [Enter Hilarion, Cyril, and Florian, climbing over wall, and creep-
               ing cautiously among the trees and rocks at the back
  of
               the stage.]

                        TRIO (Cyril, Hilarion and Florian)
                                 "Gently, gently"

  All:              Gently, gently,
                    Evidently
                          We are safe so far,
                    After scaling
                    Fence and paling,
                          Here, at last, we are!

  Florian:          In this college,
                    Useful knowledge
                          Ev'rywhere one finds,
                    And already,
                    Growing steady,
                          We've enlarged our minds

  Cyril:            We learnt that prickly cactus
                    Has power to attract us
                                When we fall.

  All:                          When we fall!

  Hilarion:         That nothing man unsettles
                    Like a bed of stinging nettles,
                                Short or tall.

  All:                          Short or tall!

  Florian:          That bull-dogs feed on throttles—
                    That we don't like broken bottles
                                On a wall.

  All:                          On a wall!

  Hilarion:         That spring-guns breathe defiance!
                    And that burglary's a science
                                After all!

  All:                          After all!

  Florian:          A Woman's college! maddest folly going!
                    What can girls learn within its walls worth
                          knowing?
                    I'll lay a crown (the Princess shall decide it)
                    I'll teach them twice as much in half-an-hour
                          outside it.

  Hilarion:         Hush, scoffer; ere you sound your puny thunder,
                    List to their aims, and bow your head in wonder!

                    They intend to send a wire
                                To the moon

  Cyril &
  Florian:                      To the moon;

  Hilarion:         And they'll set the Thames on fire
                                Very soon

  Cyril &
  Florian:                      Very soon;

  Hilarion:         Then they'll learn to make silk purses
                                With their rigs

  Cyril &
  Florian:                      With their rigs.

  Hilarion:         From the ears of Lady Circe's
                                Piggy-wigs

  Cyril &
  Florian:                      Piggy-wigs.

  Hilarion:         And weasels at their slumbers
                                They trepan

  Cyril &
  Florian:                      They trepan;

  Hilarion:         To get sunbeams from cucumbers
                                They've a plan

  Cyril
  & Florian:                    They've a plan.

  Hilarion:         They've a firmly rooted notion
                    They can cross the Polar Ocean,
                    And they'll find Perpetual Motion,
                                If they can

  All:                          If they can.
                          These are the phenomena
                          That ev'ry pretty domina
                          Is hoping at her Universitee we shall see.

                          These are the phenomena
                          That ev'ry pretty domina
                          Is hoping at her Universitee we shall see!

  Cyril:            As for fashion, they forswear it,
                                So they say

  Hilarion &
  Florian:                      So they say;

  Cyril:            And the circle — they will square it
                                Some fine day

  Hilarion &
  Florian:                      Some fine day;

  Cyril:            Then the little pigs they're teaching
                                For to fly

  Hilarion &
  Florian:                      For to fly;

  Cyril:            And the niggers they'll be bleaching,
                                By and by

  Hilarion &
  Florian:                      By and by!

  Cyril:            Each newly joined aspirant
                                To the clan

  Hilarion &
  Florian:                      To the clan

  Cyril:            Must repudiate the tyrant
                                Known as Man

  Hilarion &
  Florian:                      Known as Man.

  Cyril:            They'll mock at him and flout him,
                    For they do not care about him
                    And they're "going to do without him"
                                If they can

  All:                          If they can!

                    These are the phenomena
                    That ev'ry pretty domina
                    Is hoping at her Universitee we shall see.

                    These are the phenomena
                    That ev'ry pretty domina
                    Is hoping at her Universitee we shall see!

  Hilarion:    So that's the Princess Ida's castle!  Well,
               They must be lovely girls, indeed, if it requires
               Such walls as those to keep intruders off!

  Cyril:       To keep men off is only half their charge,
               And that the easier half. I much suspect
               The object of these walls is not so much
               To keep men off as keep the maidens in!

  Florian:     But what are these?  (Examining some Collegiate robes)

  Hilarion:    (looking at them)  Why, Academic robes,
               Worn by the lady undergraduates
               When they matriculate.  Let's try them on.  (They do
                    so.)
               Why, see — we're covered to the very toes.
               Three lovely lady undergraduates
               Who, weary of the world and all its wooing — (pose)

  Florian:     And penitent for deeds there's no undoing — (pose)

  Cyril:       Looked at askance by well-conducted maids — (pose)

  All:         Seek sanctuary in these classic shades!

                        TRIO (Cyril, Hilarion and Florian)
                                  "I am a maiden"

  Hilarion:         I am a maiden, cold and stately,
                          Heartless I, with face divine.
                    What do I want with a heart, innately?
                          Every heart I meet is mine!
                          Every heart I meet is mine, is mine!

  All:              Haughty, humble, coy, or free,
                          Little care I what maid may be.
                    So that a maid is fair to see,
                          Ev'ry maid is the maid for me!

                                      (Dance)

  Cyril:            I am a maiden, frank and simple,
                          Brimming with joyous roguery;
                    Merriment lurks in ev'ry dimple
                          Nobody breaks more hearts than I!
                          Nobody breaks more hearts, more hearts than
  I

  All:              Haughty, humble, coy, or free,
                          Little care I what maid may be.
                    So that a maid is fair to see,
                          Ev'ry maid is the maid for me!

                                      (Dance)

  Florian:          I am a maiden coyly blushing,
                          Timid am I as a startled hind;
                    Every suitor sets me flushing,
                    Every suitor sets me flushing:
                          I am the maid that wins mankind!

  All:              Haughty, humble, coy, or free,
                          Little care I what maid may be.
                    So that a maid is fair to see,
                          Ev'ry maid is the maid for me!
                    Haughty, humble, coy, or free,
                          Little care I what maid may be.
                    So that a maid is fair to see,
                          Ev'ry maid is the maid for me!

                          [Enter the Princess, reading.  She does not
  see them.)

  Florian:     But who comes here?  The Princess, as I live!
               What shall we do?

  Hilarion:    (Aside)  Why, we must brave it out!
               (Aloud)  Madam, accept our humblest reverence.

                     (They bow, then suddenly recollecting
  themselves, curtsey.)

  Princess:    (Surprised)      We greet you, ladies.  What would you
                                      with us?

  Hilarion:    (Aside to Cyril)
               What shall I say?  (Aloud)  We are three students,
                    ma'am,
               Three well-born maids of liberal estate,
               Who wish to join this University.

                  (Hilarion and Florian curtsey again. Cyril bows
  extravagantly,
                          then, being recalled to himself by Florian,
  curtseys.)

  Princess:    If, as you say, you wish to join our ranks,
               And will subscribe to all our rules, 'tis well.

  Florian:     To all your rules we cheerfully subscribe.

  Princess:    You say you're noblewomen.  Well, you'll find
               No sham degrees for noblewomen here.
               You'll find no sizars here, or servitors,
               Or other cruel distinctions, meant to draw
               A line 'twixt rich and poor; you'll find no tufts
               To mark nobility, except such tufts
               As indicate nobility of brain.
               As for your fellow-students, mark me well:
               There are a hundred maids within these walls,
               All good, all learned, and all beautiful:
               They are prepared to love you:  will you swear
               To give the fullness of your love to them?

  Hilarion:    Upon our words and honours, Ma'am, we will!

  Princess:    But we go further: Will you undertake
               That you will never marry any man?

  Florian:     Indeed we never will!

  Princess:                           Consider well,
               You must prefer our maids to all mankind!

  Hilarion:    To all mankind we much prefer your maids!

  Cyril:       We should be dolts indeed, if we did not, seeing how
               fair —

  Hilarion:    (Aside to Cyril)  Take care — that's rather strong!

  Princess:    But have you left no lovers at your home
               Who may pursue you here?

  Hilarion:                           No, madam, none.
               We're homely ladies, as no doubt you see,
               And we have never fished for lover's love.
               We smile at girls who deck themselves with gems,
               False hair and meretricious ornament,
               To chain the fleeting fancy of a man,
               But do not imitate them.  What we have
               Of hair, is all our own.  Our colour, too,
               Unladylike, but not unwomanly,
               Is Nature's handiwork, and man has learnt
               To reckon Nature an impertinence.

  Princess:    Well, beauty counts for naught within these walls;
               If all you say is true, you'll pass with us
               A happy, happy time!

  Cyril:                              If, as you say,
               A hundred lovely maidens wait within,
               To welcome us with smiles and open arms,
               I think there's very little doubt we shall!

                  QUARTET (Princess, Cyril, Hilarion and Florian)
                          "The World is But a Broken Toy"

  Princess:         The world is but a broken toy,
                    Its pleasure hollow — false its joy,
                          Unreal its loveliest hue,
                                      Alas!
                          Its pains alone are true,
                                      Alas!
                          Its pains alone are true.

  Hilarion:         The world is ev'rything you say,
                    The world we think has had its day.
                          Its merriment is slow.
                                      Alas!
                          We've tried it, and we know,
                                      Alas!
                          We've tried it and we know.

  All:              Unreal its loveliest hue,
                          Its pains alone are true,

  Princess:                           Alas!

  All:              The world is but a broken toy,
                    Its pleasure hollow — false its joy,
                          Unreal its loveliest hue,
                                      Alas!
                          Its pains alone are true,
                                      Alas!
                          Its pains alone are true!

  Florian:                Unreal its loveliest hue,

  3 Men:                  Unreal its loveliest hue,

  Princess:         Cyr. & Flor:      A-         Hilarion:    Un-
  Un-                                 las!              real its
  loveliest hue
  real—-                             Alas!             Alas!
  ——-
  —— its loveliest hue

  All:         Alas!
               Alas!
               Its pains alone are true.

                             (Exit Princess.  The three Gentlemen
  watch her off.
                            Lady Psyche enters, and regards them with
  amazement)

  Hilarion:    I'faith, the plunge is taken, gentlemen!
               For, willy-nilly, we are maidens now,
               And maids against our will we must remain.
                                                           [All laugh
  heartily.]

  Psyche:      (Aside)  These ladies are unseemly in their mirth.

                         (The gentlemen see her, and, in confusion,
  resume their
                                                              modest
  demeanour.)

  Florian:     (Aside)  Here's a catastrophe, Hilarion!
               This is my sister! She'll remember me,
               Though years have passed since she and I have met!

  Hilarion:    (Aside to Florian)  Then make a virtue of necessity,
               And trust our secret to her gentle care.

  Florian:     (To Psyche, who has watched Cyril in amazement)
               Psyche!  Why, don't you know me?  Florian!

  Psyche:      (Amazed)  Why, Florian!

  Florian:                            My sister!  (Embraces her)

  Psyche:      Oh, my dear!  What are you doing here — and who are
               these?

  Hilarion:    I am that Prince Hilarion to whom
               Your Princess is betrothed.  I come to claim
               Her plighted love.  Your brother Florian
               And Cyril came to see me safely through.

  Psyche:      The Prince Hilarion?  Cyril too?  How strange!
               My earliest playfellows!

  Hilarion:                           Why, let me look!
               Are you that learned little Psyche who
               At school alarmed her mates because she called
               A buttercup "ranunculus bulbosus"?

  Cyril:       Are you indeed that Lady Psyche, who
               At children's parties, drove the conjuror wild,
               Explaining all his tricks before he did them?

  Hilarion:    Are you that learned little Psyche, who
               At dinner parties, brought in to dessert,
               Would tackle visitors with "You don't know
               Who first determined longitude — I do —
               Hipparchus 'twas — B. C. one sixty-three!"
               Are you indeed that small phenomenon?

  Psyche:      That small phenomenon indeed am I!
               But gentlemen, 'tis death to enter here:
               We have all promised to renounce mankind!

  Florian:     Renounce mankind!?  On what ground do you base
               This senseless resolution?

  Psyche:                             Senseless?  No.
               We are all taught, and, being taught, believe
               That Man, sprung from an Ape, is Ape at heart.

  Cyril:       That's rather strong.

  Psyche:                             The truth is always strong!

               SONG (Lady Psyche, with Cyril, Hilarion and Florian)
                          "A Lady Fair, of Lineage High"

  Psyche:           A Lady fair, of lineage high,
                    Was loved by an Ape, in the days gone by.
                    The Maid was radiant as the sun,
                    The Ape was a most unsightly one,
                    The Ape was a most unsightly one—
                          So it would not do—
                          His scheme fell through,
                    For the Maid, when his love took formal shape,
                          Express'd such terror
                          At his monstrous error,
                    That he stammer'd an apology and made his 'scape,
                    The picture of a disconcerted Ape.

                    With a view to rise in the social scale,
                    He shaved his bristles and he docked his tail,
                    He grew mustachios, and he took his tub,
                    And he paid a guinea to a toilet club,
                    He paid a guinea to a toilet club—
                          But it would not do,
                          The scheme fell through—
                    For the Maid was Beauty's fairest Queen,
                          With golden tresses,
                          Like a real princess's,
                    While the Ape, despite his razor keen,
                    Was the apiest Ape that ever was seen!
                    He bought white ties, and he bought dress suits,
                    He crammed his feet into bright tight boots—
                    And to start in life on a brand-new plan,
                    He christen'd himself Darwinian Man!
                          But it would not do,
                          The scheme fell through—
                    For the Maiden fair, whom the monkey crav'd,
                          Was a radiant Being,
                          With brain far-seeing—
                    While Darwinian Man, though well-behav'd,
                    At best is only a monkey shav'd!

  3 Men:            For the Maiden fair, whom the monkey crav'd,

  All:                    Was a radiant being,
                          With a brain far-seeing—
                    While Darwinian Man, though well-behav'd,
                    At best is only a monkey shav'd!

                                   (During this, Melissa has entered
  unobserved;
                                                     she looks on in
  amazement.)

  Melissa:     (Coming down)  Oh, Lady Psyche!

  Psyche:      (Terrified)                  What!  You heard us then?
               Oh, all is lost!

  Melissa:                            Not so!  I'll breathe no word!
                      (Advancing in astonishment to Florian)
               How marvelously strange! and are you then
               Indeed young men?

  Florian:                            Well, yes, just now we are—
               But hope by dint of study to become,
               In course of time, young women.

  Melissa:     (Eagerly)                          No, no, no —
               Oh, don't do that!  Is this indeed a man?
               I've often heard of them, but, till to-day,
               Never set eyes on one.  They told me men
               Were hideous, idiotic, and deformed!
               They are quite as beautiful as women are!
               As beautiful, they're infinitely more so!
               Their cheeks have not that pulpy softness which
               One gets so weary of in womankind:
               Their features are more marked — and — oh, their
                    chins!
                             (Feeling Florian's chin)
               How curious!

  Florian:                                  I fear it's rather rough.

  Melissa:     (Eagerly)  Oh, don't apologize — I like it so!

              QUINTET (Psyche, Melissa, Cyril, Hilarion and Florian)
                           "The Woman of the Wisest Wit"

  Psyche:           The woman of the wisest win
                          May sometimes be mistaken, O!
                    In Ida's views, I must admit,
                          My faith is somewhat shaken O!

  Cyril:            On every other point than this
                          Her learning is untainted, O!
                    But Man's a theme with which she is
                          Entirely unacquainted, O!
                                      —acquainted, O!
                                      —acquainted, O!
                          Entirely unacquainted, O!

  All:              Then jump for joy and gaily bound,
                    The truth is found — the truth is found!
                    Set bells a-ringing through the air—
                    Ring here and there and ev'rywhere—

  3 Men:            And echo forth the joyous sound,

  All:              The truth is found — the truth is found!

  3 Men:            And echo forth the joyous sound,

  All:              The truth is found — the truth is found!
                    And echo forth the joyous sound,
                    The truth is found — the truth is found!

                                      (Dance)

  Melissa:          My natural instinct teaches me
                          (And instinct is important, O!)
                    You're ev'rything you ought to be,
                          And nothing that you oughtn't, O!

  Hilarion:         That fact was seen at once by you
                          In casual conversation, O!
                    Which is most creditable to
                          Your powers of observation, O!
                                            -servation, O!
                                            -servation, O!
                          Your powers of observation, O!

  All:              Then jump for joy and gaily bound,
                    The truth is found, the truth is found!
                    Set bells a-ringing through the air,
                    Ring here and there and ev'rywhere.

  3 Men:            And echo forth the joyous sound,

  All:              The truth is found — the truth is found!

  3 Men:            And echo forth the joyous sound,

  All:              The truth is found — the truth is found!
                    And echo forth the joyous sound,
                    The truth is found — the truth is found!

                                    (Exeunt Psyche, Hilarion, Cyril
  and Florian,

  Melissa going.)

                                                            (Enter
  Lady Blanche.

  Blanche:     Melissa!

  Melissa:     (Returning)  Mother!

  Blanche:                            Here — a word with you.
               Those are the three new students?

  Melissa:     (Confused)                         Yes, they are.
               They're charming girls.

  Blanche:                                  Particularly so.
               So graceful, and so very womanly!
               So skilled in all a girl's accomplishments!

  Melissa:     (Confused)  Yes — very skilled.

  Blanche:                                  They sing so nicely too!

  Melissa:     They do sing nicely!

  Blanche:                                  Humph!  It's very odd.
               Two are tenors, one is a baritone!

  Melissa:     (Much agitated)  They've all got colds!

  Blanche:                      Colds!  Bah!  D'ye think I'm blind?
               These "girls" are men disguised!

  Melissa:                                  Oh no — indeed!
               You wrong these gentlemen — I mean — why, see,
               Here is an etui dropped by one of them (picking up an
                    etui).
               Containing scissors, needles, and —

  Blanche:     (Opening it)                       Cigars!
               Why, these are men!  And you knew this, you minx!

  Melissa:     Oh, spare them — they are gentlemen indeed.
               The Prince Hilarion (married years ago
               To Princess Ida) with two trusted friends!
               Consider, mother, he's her husband now,
               And has been, twenty years!  Consider, too,
               You're only second here — you should be first.
               Assist the Prince's plan, and when he gains
               The Princess Ida, why, you will be first.
               You will design the fashions — think of that—
               And always serve out all the punishments!
               The scheme is harmless, mother — wink at it!

  Blanche:     (Aside)  The prospect's tempting!  Well, well, well,
                    I'll try —
               Though I've not winked at anything for years!
               'Tis but one step towards my destiny—
               The mighty Must! the inevitable Shall!

                          DUET (Melissa and Lady Blanche)
                     "Now Wouldn't you like to Rule the Roast"

  Melissa:          Now wouldn't you like to rule the roast
                          And guide this University?

  Blanche:                      I must agree,
                                'Twould pleasant be,
                                      (Sing hey, a Proper Pride!)

  Melissa:          And wouldn't you like to clear the coast,
                          Of malice and perversity?

  Blanche:                      Without a doubt,
                                I'll bundle 'em out,
                                      (Sing hey, when I preside!)

  Both:             Sing hey!
                    Sing hoity toity! Sorry for some!
                    Sing marry, come up, and (my) her day will come!
                                Sing Proper Pride
                                Is the horse to ride,
                          And Happy-go-lucky, my Lady, O!

  Blanche:          For years I've writhed beneath her sneers,
                          Although a born Plantagenet!

  Melissa:                      You're much too meek,
                                Or you would speak
                                      (Sing hey, I'll say no more!)

  Blanche:          Her elder I, by several years,
                          Although you'd ne'er imagine it.

  Melissa:                      Sing, so I've heard
                                But never a word
                                      Have I e'er believ'd before!

  Both:             Sing hey!
                    Sing hoity toity! Sorry for some!
                    Sing marry, come up, and her (my) day will come!
                                Sing, she shall learn
                                That a worm will turn.
                          Sing Happy-go-lucky, my Lady, O!

                                                             (Exit
  Lady Blanche)

  Melissa:     Saved for a time, at least!

                                                      (Enter Florian,
  on tiptoe)

  Florian:     (Whispering)                       Melissa — come!

  Melissa:     Oh, sir! you must away from this at once—
               My mother guessed your sex!  It was my fault—
               I blushed and stammered so that she exclaimed,
               "Can these be men?"  Then, seeing this, "Why these—"
               "Are men", she would have added, but "are men"
               Stuck in her throat!  She keeps your secret, sir,
               For reasons of her own — but fly from this
               And take me with you — that is — no — not that!

  Florian:     I'll go, but not without you!  (Bell)  Why, what's
               that?

  Melissa:     The luncheon bell.

  Florian:                            I'll wait for luncheon then!

                                       (Enter Hilarion with Princess,
  Cyril with
                                          Psyche, Lady Blanche and
  ladies.  Also
                                    "Daughters of the Plough" bearing
  luncheon.)

                    CHORUS OF GIRLS & SOLOS (Blanche and Cyril)
                         "Merrily Ring the Luncheon Bell"

  Chorus:           Merrily ring the luncheon bell!
                    Merrily ring the luncheon bell!
                    Here in meadow of asphodel,
                    Feast we body and mind as well,
                    Merrily ring the luncheon

  1st Sops:                           2nd Sops:
               bell! - - - —-              bell! Oh merrily
               Ring - - - —-               ring the luncheon
               oh, —-                      bell, Oh
               ring, - - - —-              merrily, merrily,
  merrily,
               Oh, —-                      merrily

  Chorus:           Merrily ring the luncheon bell, the luncheon
  bell!

  Blanche:                      Hunger, I beg to state,
                                Is highly indelicate.
                          This is a fact profoundly true,
                          So learn your appetites to subdue.

  All:                                            Yes, yes,
               We'll learn our appetites to subdue!

  Cyril:                  Madam, your words so wise,
                          Nobody should despise,
                    Curs'd with appetite keen I am
                                And I'll subdue it—
                                And I'll subdue it—
                    I'll subdue it with cold roast lamb!

  All:                                      Yes — yes—
               We'll subdue it with cold roast lamb!
                    Merrily ring the luncheon bell!
                    Merrily ring the luncheon bell!
                    Oh

  1st Sops:    ring! - - - —-        2nd Sophs:        merrily,
  merrily,
               Oh,                                      merrily,
  merrily

  Chorus:           Merrily ring the luncheon bell, the luncheon
  bell!

  Princess:    You say you know the court of Hildebrand?
               There is a Prince there — I forget his name —

  Hilarion:    Hilarion?

  Princess:               Exactly — is he well?

  Hilarion:    If it be well to droop and pine and mope,
               To sigh "Oh, Ida! Ida!" all day long,
               "Ida! my love! my life!  Oh, come to me!"
               If it be well, I say, to do all this,
               Then Prince Hilarion is very well.

  Princess:    He breathes our name?  Well, it's a common one!
               And is the booby comely?

  Hilarion:                                 Pretty well.
               I've heard it said that if I dressed myself
               In Prince Hilarion's clothes (supposing this
               Consisted with my maiden modesty),
               I might be taken for Hilarion's self.
               But what is this to you or me, who think
               Of all mankind with undisguised contempt?

  Princess:    Contempt?  Why, damsel, when I think of man,
               Contempt is not the word.

  Cyril:       (Getting tipsy)              I'm sure of that,
               Or if it is, it surely should not be!

  Hilarion:    (Aside to Cyril)  Be quiet, idiot, or they'll find us
               out.

  Cyril:       The Prince Hilarion's a goodly lad!

  Princess:    You know him then?

  Cyril:       (Tipsily)                    I rather think I do!
               We are inseparables!

  Princess:                                 Why, what's this?
               You love him then?

  Cyril:                                    We do indeed — all
  three!

  Hilarion:    Madam, she jests!  (Aside to Cyril)  Remember where
  you
                    are!

  Cyril:       Jests?  Not at all!  Why, bless my heart alive,
               You and Hilarion, when at the Court,
               Rode the same horse!

  Princess:    (Horrified)            Astride?

  Cyril:                                    Of course!  Why not?
               Wore the same clothes — and once or twice, I think,
               Got tipsy in the same good company!

  Princess:    Well, these are nice young ladies, on my word!

  Cyril:       (Tipsy)  Don't you remember that old kissing-song
               He'd sing to blushing Mistress Lalage,
               The hostess of the Pigeons?  Thus it ran:

                                   SONG (Cyril)
                         "Would you know the Kind of Maid"

                                    (During symphony Hilarion and
  Florian try to
                                       stop Cyril.  He shakes them
  off angrily.)

  Cyril:            Would you know the kind of maid
                          Sets my heart aflame-a?
                    Eyes must be downcast and staid,
                          Cheeks must flush for shame-a!
                                She may neither dance nor sing,
                                But, demure in everything,
                                Hang her head in modest way,
                                With pouting lips, with pouting lips
  that
                                      seem to say,
                    "Oh kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
                          Though I die of shame-a!"
                    Please you, that's the kind of maid
                          Sets my heart aflame-a!
                    "Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
                          Though I die of shame-a!"
                    Please you, that's the kind of maid
                          Sets my heart aflame-a!

                    When a maid is bold and gay,
                          With a tongue goes clang-a,
                    Flaunting it in brave array,
                          Maiden may go hang-a
                                Sunflow'r gay and holly-hock
                                Never shall my garden stock;
                                Mine the blushing rose of May,
                                With pouting lips, with pouting lips
  that
                                      seem to say,
                    "Oh kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
                          Though I die for shame-a!"
                    Please you, that's the kind of maid
                          Sets my heart aflame-a!
                    "Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
                          Though I die of shame-a!"
                    Please you, that's the kind of maid
                          Sets my heart aflame-a!

  Princess:    Infamous creature, get you hence away!

                           (Hilarion, Who has been with difficulty
  restrained by
                           Florian during this song, breaks from him
  and strikes
                                                 Cyril furiously on
  the breast.)

  Hilarion:    Dog!  There is something more to sing about!

  Cyril:       (Sobered)  Hilarion, are you mad?

  Princess:    (Horrified)  Hilarion?  Help!
               Why, these are men!  Lost! lost! betrayed, undone!
                                                          (Running on
  to bridge)
               Girls, get you hence!  Man-monsters, if you dare
               Approach one step, I —- Ah!
                                   (Loses her balance and falls into
  the stream)

  Psyche:                                         Oh!  Save her, sir!

  Blanche:     It's useless, sir — you'll only catch your death!
                                                          (Hilarion
  springs in.)

  Sach.:       He catches her!

  Melissa:                            And now he lets her go!
               Again she's in his grasp—

  Psyche:                             And now she's not,
               He seizes her back hair!

  Blanche:     (Not looking)          And it comes off!

  Psyche:      No, no!  She's saved!—she's saved! she's
  saved!—she's
                    saved!

                                  FINALE, ACT II
               (Princess, Hildebrand, Melissa, Lady Psyche, Blanche,
               Cyril, Hilarion, Florian, Arac, Guron, Scynthius and
               Chorus of Girls and Men )

                           "Oh Joy! our Chief is Sav'd"

  Girls:            Oh joy! our chief is sav'd
                          And by Hillarion's hand;
                                The torrent fierce he brav'd,
                          And brought her safe to land!
                                For his intrusion we must own
                                This doughty deed may well atone!

  Princess:               Stand forth ye three,
                          Who-e'er ye be,
                    And hearken to our stern decree!

  Cyril, &
  Florian:     Have mercy, O Lady           Hilarion:
                                                        Have
               disregard your                           Mer—
               oaths!                                   cy!

  Princess:         I know no mercy, men in women's clothes!
                          The man whose sacrilegious eyes
                          Invade our strict seclusion, dies.
                          Arrest the coarse intruding spies!

                            (They are arrested by the "Daughters of
  the Plough")

  Girls:            Have mercy, O lady — disregard your oaths.

  Princess:         I know not mercy, men in women's clothes!

                                                     (Cyril & Florian
  are bound)

                                 SONG — Hilarion

  Hilarion:         Whom thou has chain'd must wear his chain,
                          Thou canst not set him free,
                    He wrestles with his bonds in vain
                          Who lives by loving thee!
                    If heart of stone for heart of fire,
                          Be all thou hast to give,
                    If dead to my heart's desire,
                          Why should I wish to live?

  Cyr & Flo:   Have                         Girls:      Have
               mercy, O                                 Mer-
               lady!                                    cy!

  Hilarion:         No word of thine — no stern command
                          Can teach my heart to rove,
                    Then rather perish by thy hand,
                          Than live without thy love!
                    A loveless life apart from thee
                          Were hopeless slavery,
                          Were hopeless slavery,
                    If kindly death will set me free,
                          Why should I fear to die?

  Girls:            Have mercy!

  Hilarion:         If kindly death

  Girls:            Have mercy!

  Hilarion:                           will set me free,
                    If kindly death will set me free,
                          Why should I fear,
                          Why should I fear to die?

  (He is bound by two of the attendants, the three gentlemen are
               marched off.)

  (Enter Melissa)

  Melissa:          Madam, without the castle walls
                          An armed band
                    Demand admittance to our halls
                          For Hildebrand!

  All:                          Oh, horror!

  Princess:         Defy them!
                    We will defy them!

  All:                    Too late — too late!
                          The castle gate
                    Is battered by them!

  (The gate yields. Soldiers rush in. Arac, Guron, and Scynthius are
               with them, but with their hands handcuffed.

  Men:              Walls and fences scaling,
                          Promptly we appear;
                    Walls are unavailing,
                          We have enter'd here.
                    Female exaceration.
                          Stifle if you're wise.
                    Stop your lamentations,
                          Dry your pretty, pretty

  Girls:            Rend the air with wailing.          Men:  eyes!
                          Shed the shameful tear!
                    Man has enter'd here.
                          Walls are unavailing.

  Girls:     Rend the             Men:    Walls and
             air                          fences
             with                         scaling,
             wail———                   Promptly we appear;
             —————                   Walls are unavailing.
             ing.                         We have enter'd here.
             Shed                         Female exe-
             the                          cration.
             shame-                       Stifle if
             ful tear!                    you're wise.
             Man                          Stop your lament-
             has                          ation,
             en-                          Dry your pret-
             ter'd                        ty
             here!                        eyes. O
             Walls are                    stop your
             un-                          lament-
             a-                           ation,
             vail-                        Dry your pretty pretty
             ing.                         eyes! Female exe-
             Man                          cration. Stifle
             has                          if you're
             en-                          wise.  Stop your lament-
             ter'd                        ation, Dry your pretty
             here!                        eyes.

                                (Enter Hildebrand)

                                    RECITATIVE

  Princess:         Audacious tyrant, do you dare
                    To beard a maiden in her lair?

  Hildebd:                Since you inquire,
                          We've no desire
                    To beard a maiden here, or anywhere!

  Soldiers:               No, no. We've no desire
                    To beard a maiden here or anywhere!

                                SOLO — Hildebrand

  Hildebd:          Some years ago,
                    No doubt you know
               (And if you don't I'll tell you so)
                    You gave your troth
                    Upon your oath
               To Hilarion my son.
                    A vow you make
                    You must not break,
               (If you think you may, it's a great mistake),
                    For a bride's a bride
                    Though the knot were tied
                          At the early age of one!
                                And I'm a peppery kind of King,
                                Whose indisposed for parleying
                                To fit the wit of a bit of chit,
                                And that's the long and the short of
  it!

  Soldiers:               For he's a peppery kind of King,
                          Whose indisposed for parleying
                          To fit the wit of a bit of chit,
                          And that's the long and the short of it!

  Hildebd:                If you decide
                          To pocket your pride
                    And let Hilarion claim his bride,
                          Why, well and good,
                          It's understood
                    We'll let bygones go by—
                          But if you choose
                          To sulk in the blues
                    I'll make the whole of you shake in your shoes.
                          I'll storm your walls,
                          And level your halls,
                                In the winking of an eye!
                                For I'm a peppery Potentate,
                                Who's little inclined his claim to
  bate,
                                To fit the wit of a bit of a chit,
                                And thats the long and the short of
  it!

  Soldiers:               For he's a peppery Potentate,
                          Whose indisposed for parleying,
                          To fit the wit of a bit of chit,
                          And that's the long and the short of it!

                          TRIO — Arac, Guron & Scynthius

  All 3:            We may remark, though nothing can
                                      Dismay us,
                    That if you thwart this gentleman,
                                      He'll slay us.
                    We don't fear death, of course — we're taught
                                      To shame it;
                    But still upon the whole we thought
                                      We'd name it.
  (To each other)
  Scynthius:        Yes!

  Guron:            Yes!

  Arac:             Yes!

  All 3:            Better p'r'aps to name it.

                    Our interests we would not press
                                      With chatter,
                    Three hulking brothers more or less
                                      Don't matter;
                    If you'd pooh-pooh this monarch's plan
                                      Pooh-pooh it,
                    But when he says he'll hang a man,
                                      He'll do it.
  (To each other)
  Scynthius:        Yes!

  Guron:            Yes!

  Arac:             Yes!

  All 3:            Devil doubt he'll do it.

  Princess:         Be reassured, nor fear his anger blind,
                    His menaces are idle as the wind.
                    He dares not kill you — vengeance lurks behind!

  3 Knights:        We rather think he dares, but never mind!

  Hildebd:    I                       3 Knights:
              rather                        No!
              think I                       No!
              dare, but                     No!
              never, never mind!            never never mind!
              Enough of
                                            No,
              parley                        no,
                                            never nev-
              as a                          er
              spe-                          mind!
              cial
                                            No!
              boon.                         no! never, never mind!
              We give you till tomorrow
              afternoon;
  Hildebd:          Release Hilarion, then,
                    And be his bride
                    Or you'll incur the guilt of fratricide!

  Princess:         To yield at once to such a foe
                          With shame we're rife;
                    So quick! away with him, although
                          He sav'd my life!
                    That he is fair, and strong, and tall
                    Is very evident to all,
                    Yet I will die,
                    Yet I will die, before I call myself his

  Princess:                     All Others:
       wife! - —-                  Oh, yield at once, 'twere better
  so,
       - - - —-                    Than risk a strife!
                                    And let the Prince Hilarion go.
                                    He Saved thy life!
       That                         Hi-
       he is                        la-rion's
       fair and                     fair,
       strong and                   and
       tall,                        strong and tall,
       tall,
       Is - - - - -
       - - - - - -                  A
       very                         worse mis-
       evi-                         for-
       dent to                      tune
       all,                         might befall.
       Yet
       I will                       It's
       die, will die before I call  not so dreadful after all,
       Myself his wife!             To be his wife!
       Though I am but a girl
       Defiance thus I hurl
       Our banners all
       On outer wall
       We fearlessly unfurl

  (The Princess stands, surrounded by girls kneeling.  Hildebrand and
       soldiers stand on built rocks at back and sides of stage.
       Picture.)
                                   END OF ACT II





ACT III
  SCENE — Outer Walls and Courtyard of Castle Adamant.  Melissa,
               SachaRissa, and ladies discovered, armed with
               battleaxes.

                                      CHORUS
                              "Death to the Invader!"

  Chorus:           Death to the invader!
                          Strike a deadly blow,
                    As an old Crusader
                          Struck his Paynim foe!
                                Let our martial thunder
                                Fill his soul with wonder,
                                Tear his ranks asunder,
                                      Lay the tyrant low!
                    Death to the invader!
                          Strike a deadly blow,
                    As an old Crusader
                          Struck his Paynim foe!

  Melissa:          Thus our courage, all untarnish'd,
                          We're instructed to display;
                    But to tell the truth unvarnish'd,
                          We are more inclined to say,
                    "Please you, do not hurt us,"

  All:                    "Do not hurt us, if it please you!"

  Melissa:          "Please you let us be."

  All:                    "Let us be — let us be!"

  Melissa:          "Soldiers disconcert us."

  All:                    "Disconcert us, if it please you!"

  Melissa:          "Frighten'd maids are we!"

  All:                    "Maids are we, maids are we!"

  Melissa:          Please you,

  All:                    Do not hurt us;

  Melissa:          Please you,

  All:                    Let us be.

  Mel & Cho:        Frighten'd maids are we, frighten'd maids are we!

  Melissa:          But 'twould be an error
                    To confess our terror,
                    So in Ida's name,
                    Boldly we exclaim:

  Mel & Cho:        Death to the invader!
                          Strike a deadly blow,
                    As an old Crusader
                          Struck his Paynim foe!

  (Flourish.  Enter Princess, armed, attended by Blanche and Psyche.)

  Princess:    I like your spirit, girls!  We have to meet
               Stern bearded warriors in fight to-day;
               Wear naught but what is necessary to
               Preserve your dignity before their eyes,
               And give your limbs full play.

  Blanche:                            One moment, ma'am,
               Here is a paradox we should not pass
               Without inquiry.  We are prone to say
               "This thing is Needful — that, Superfluous"—
               Yet they invariably co-exist!
               We find the Needful comprehended in
               The circle of the grand Superfluous,
               Yet the Superfluous cannot be brought
               Unless you're amply furnished with the Needful.
               These singular considerations are—

  Princess:    Superfluous, yet not Needful — so you see
               The terms may independently exist.
  (To Ladies)       Women of Adamant, we have to show
               That women, educated to the task,
               Can meet Man, face to face, on his own ground,
               And beat him there.  Now, let us set to work;
               Where is our lady surgeon?

  Sach.:                                    Madam, here!

  Princess:    We shall require your skill to heal the wounds
               Of those that fall.

  Sach.:       (Alarmed)        What, heal the wounded?

  Princess:                                             Yes!

  Sach.:       And cut off real live legs and arms?

  Princess:                                 Of course!

  Sach.:       I wouldn't do it for a thousand pounds!

  Princess:    Why, how is this?  Are you faint-hearted, girl?
               You've often cut them off in theory!

  Sach.:       In theory I'll cut them off again
               With pleasure, and as often as you like,
               But not in practice.

  Princess:                           Coward!  Get you hence,
               I've craft enough for that, and courage too,
               I'll do your work!  My fusiliers, advance!,
               Why, you are armed with axes!  Gilded toys!
               Where are your rifles, pray?

  Chloe:                              Why, please you, ma'am,
               We left them in the armoury, for fear
               That in the heat and turmoil of the fight,
               They might go off!

  Princess:                     "They might!"  Oh, craven souls!
               Go off yourselves!  Thank heaven I have a heart
               That quails not at the thought of meeting men;
               I will discharge your rifles!  Off with you!

  (Exit Chloe)
               Where's my bandmistress?

  Ada:                          Please you, ma'am, the band
               Do not feel well, and can't come out today!

  Princess:    Why, this is flat rebellion!  I've no time
               To talk to them just now. But, happily,
               I can play several instruments at once,
               And I will drown the shrieks of those that fall
               With trumpet music, such as soldiers love!
               How stand we with respect to gunpowder?
               My Lady Psyche — you who superintend
               Our lab'ratory — are you well prepared
               To blow these bearded rascals into shreds?

  Psyche:      Why, madam—

  Princess:                     Well?

  Psyche:                             Let us try gentler means.
               We can dispense with fulminating grains
               While we have eyes with which to flash our rage!
               We can dispense with villainous saltpetre
               While we have tongues with which to blow them up!
               We can dispense, in short, with all the arts
               That brutalize the practical polemist!

  Princess:    (Contemptuously)       I never knew a more dispensing
                                            chemist!
               Away, away — I'll meet these men alone
               Since all my women have deserted me!

                                    (Exeunt all but Princess, singing
  refrain of
                                      "Please you, do not hurt us",
  pianissimo.)

  Princess:    So fail my cherished plans — so fails my faith—
               And with it hope, and all that comes of hope!

                                  Song - Princess
                               "I Built upon a Rock"

  Princess:         I built upon a rock,
                          But ere Destruction's hand
                                Dealt equal lot
                                To Court and cot,
                          My rock had turn'd to sand!
                    I leant upon an oak,
                          But in the hour of need,
                                Alack-a-day,
                                My trusted stay
                          Was but a bruis-ed reed!
                          A bruis-ed reed!
                                Ah faithless rock,
                                My simple faith to mock!
                                Ah trait'rous oak,
                                Thy worthlessness to cloak,
                                Thy worthlessness to cloak!

                    I drew a sword of steel
                          But when to home and hearth
                                The battle's breath
                                Bore fire and death,
                          My sword was but a lath!
                    I lit a beacon fire,
                          But on a stormy day
                                Of frost and rime,
                                In wintertime,
                          My fire had died away,
                          Had died away!
                                Ah, coward steel,
                                That fear can un-anneal!
                                False fire indeed,
                                To fail me in my need,
                                To fail me in my need!

  (Princess Sinks upon a rock.  Enter Chloe and all the Ladies)

  Chloe:       Madam, your father and your brothers claim
               An audience!

  Princess:               What do they do here?

  Chloe:                                          They come
               To fight for you!

  Princess:               Admit them!

  Blanche:                                        Infamous!
               One's brothers, ma'am, are men!

  Princess:                                 So I have heard.
               But all my women seem to fail me when
               I need them most.  In this emergency,
               Even one's brothers may be turned to use.

  Gama:        (Entering, pale and unnerved)  My daughter!

  Princess:               Father!  Thou art free!

  Gama:                                           Aye, free!
               Free as a tethered ass!  I come to thee
               With words from Hildebrand.  Those duly given
               I must return to blank captivity.
               I'm free so far.

  Princess:                     Your message.

  Gama:                                           Hildebrand
               Is loth to war with women.  Pit my sons,
               My three brave sons, against these popinjays,
               These tufted jack-a-dandy featherheads,
               And on the issue let thy hand depend!

  Princess:    Insult on insult's head!  Are we a stake
               For fighting men?  What fiend possesses thee,
               That thou has come with offers such as these
               From such as he to such an one as I?

  Gama:        I am possessed
               By the pale devil of a shaking heart!
               My stubborn will is bent.  I dare not face
               That devilish monarch's black malignity!
               He tortures me with torments worse than death,
               I haven't anything to grumble at!
               He finds out what particular meats I love,
               And gives me them.  The very choicest wines,
               The costliest robes — the richest rooms are mine.
               He suffers none to thwart my simplest plan,
               And gives strict orders none should contradict me!
               He's made my life a curse!  (Weeps)

  Princess:                                       My tortured father!

                       SONG (King GAMA with CHORUS of GIRLS)
                                "Whene'er I Spoke"

  Gama:             Whene'er I poke
                    Sarcastic joke
                          Replete with malice spiteful,
                    This people mild
                    Politely smil'd,
                          And voted me delightful!

                    Now, when a wight
                    Sits up all night
                          Ill-natur'd jokes devising,
                    And all his wiles
                    Are met with smiles
                          It's hard, there's no disguising!

               Ah!  Oh, don't the days seem lank and long
               When all goes right and nothing goes wrong,
               And isn't your life extremely flat
               With nothing whatever to grumble at!

  Chorus:      Oh, isn't your life extremely flat
               With nothing whatever to grumble at!

  Gama:                   When German bands
                          From music stands
                    Play'd Wagner imperfectly —
                          I bade them go—
                          They didn't say no,
                    But off they went directly!
                          The organ boys
                          They stopp'd their noise,
                    With readiness surprising,
                          And grinning herds
                          Of hurdy-gurds
                    Retired apologising!
               Ah! Oh, don't the days seem lank and long
               When all goes right and nothing goes wrong,
               And isn't your life extremely flat
               With nothing whatever to grumble at!

  Chorus:      Oh, isn't your life extremely flat
               With nothing whatever to grumble at!

  Gama:                   I offer'd gold
                          In sums untold
                    To all who'd contradict me—
                          I said I'd pay
                          A pound a day
                    To any one who kick'd me—
                          I've brib'd with toys
                          Great vulgar boys
                    To utter something spiteful,
                          But, bless you, no!
                          They would be so
                    Confoundedly politeful!

               Ah! In short, these aggravating lads,
               They tickle my tastes, they feed my fads,
               They give me this and they give me that,
               And I've nothing whatever to grumble at!

  Chorus:      Oh, isn't your life extremely flat
               With nothing whatever to grumble at!

                           (Gama Bursts into tears and falls sobbing
  on a seat.)

  Princess:    My poor old father!  How he must have suffered!
               Well, well, I yield!

  Gama:        (Hysterically)  She yields!  I'm saved, I'm saved!
       (Exit)

  Princess:    Open the gates — admit these warriors,
               Then get you all within the castle walls.
       (Exit)

                (The gates are opened and the Girls mount the
  battlements as the
                         Soldiers enter.  Arac, Guron and Scynthius
  also enter.)

                                Chorus of Soldiers
                           "When anger spreads his wing"

  Chorus:           When anger spread his wing,
                          And all seems dark as night for it,
                          There's nothing but to fight for it,
                    But ere you pitch your ring,
                          Select a pretty site for it,
                          (This spot is suited quite for it,)
                    And then you gaily sing,
                    And then you gaily sing:

                    "Oh I love the jolly rattle
                    Of an orde-al by battle,
                    There's an end of tittle-tattle
                          When your enemy is dead.
                    It's an arrant molly-coddle
                    Fears a crack upon his noddle
                    And he's only fit to swaddle
                          In a downy feather-bed!

  Ladies:   For a               Soldiers:   Oh, I
            fight's                         love the
            a                               jolly
            kind                            rattle
            of                              Of an
            thing                           orde-al by battle
            That I                          There's an
            love                            end of
            to                              tittle
            look                            tattle,
            up-                             When your
            on,                             enemy is dead.
            So                              It's an
            let                             arrant
            us                              molly-
            sing,                           coddle
            Long                            Fears a
            live                            crack upon
            the                             his
            King,                           noddle,
            And his                         And he's
            son                             only fit to
            Hi-                             swaddle, In a
            la-                             downy fea-
            ri-on!                          ther bed!

                                  (During this, Hilarion, Florian,
  and Cyril are
                                   brought out by the "Daughters of
  the Plough".
                                        They are still bound and wear
  the robes.

  Enter GAMA.)

  Gama:        Hilarion!  Cyril!  Florian!  dressed as women!
               Is this indeed Hilarion?

  Hilar.:                                   Yes, it is!

  Gama:        Why, you look handsome in your women's clothes!
               Stick to 'em!  Men's attire becomes you not!
  (To CYRIL and FLORIAN)  And you, young ladies, will you please to
  pray
               King Hildebrand to set me free again?
               Hang on his neck and gaze into his eyes,
               He never could resist a pretty face!

  Hilar.:      You dog, you'll find, though I wear woman's garb,
               My sword is long and sharp!

  Gama:                                     Hush, pretty one!
               Here's a virago!  Here's a termagant!
               If length and sharpness go for anything,
               You'll want no sword while you can wag your tongue!

  Cyril:       What need to waste your words on such as he?
               He's old and crippled.

  Gama:                                     Aye, but I've three sons,
               Fine fellows, young and muscular, and brave,
               They're well worth talking to!  Come, what d'ye say?

  Arac:        Aye, pretty ones, engage yourselves with us,
               If three rude warriors affright you not!

  Hilar.:      Old as you are, I'd wring your shrivelled neck
               If you were not the Princess Ida's father.

  Gama:        If I were not the Princess Ida's father,
               And so had not her brothers for my sons,
               No doubt you'd wring my neck — in safety too!
               Come, come, Hilarion, begin, begin!
               Give them no quarter — they will give you none.
               You've this advantage over warriors
               Who kill their country's enemies for pay,—
               You know what you are fighting for — look there!
                                         (Pointing to Ladies on the
  battlements)

                        (Exit Gamma.  Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril
  are led off.)

                     SONG (Arac, Guron, Scynthius and Chorus)
                             "This Helmet, I Suppose"

  Arac:             This helmet, I suppose,
                    Was meant to ward off blows,
                          It's very hot
                          And weighs a lot,
                    As many a guardsman knows,
                    As many a guardsman knows,
                    As many a guardsman knows,
                    As many a guardsman knows,
                    So off, so off that helmet goes.

  Others:                 Yes, yes, yes,
                    So off that helmet goes!

                                            (Giving their helmets to
  attendants)

  Arac:             This tight-fitting cuirass
                    Is but a useless mass,
                          It's made of steel,
                          And weighs a deal,
                    This tight-fitting cuirass
                    Is but a useless mass,
                    A man is but an ass
                    Who fights in a cuirass,
                    So off, so off goes that cuirass.

  Others:                 Yes, yes, yes,
                    So off goes that cuirass!
                                                            (Removing
  cuirasses)

  Arac:             These brassets, truth to tell,
                    May look uncommon well,
                          But in a fight
                          They're much too tight,
                    They're like a lobster shell,
                    They're like a lobster shell!

  Others:                 Yes, yes, yes,
                    They're like a lobster shell.
                                                       (Removing
  their brassets)

  Arac:             These things I treat the same
                              (indicating leg pieces)
                    (I quite forget their name.)
                          They turn one's legs
                          To cribbage pegs—
                    Their aid I thus disclaim,
                    Their aid I thus disclaim,
                    Though I forget their name,
                    Though I forget their name,
                    Their aid, their aid I thus disclaim!

  Others:                 Yes, yes, yes,
  All:              Their aid (we/they) thus disclaim!

  (They remove their leg pieces and wear close-fitting shape suits.)

                        Enter Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril

                        (Desperate fight between the three Princes
  and the three
                         Knights, during which the Ladies on the
  battlements and
                           the Soldiers on the stage sing the
  following chorus):

                              CHORUS DURING THE FIGHT
                                "This is our Duty"

  Chorus:           This is our duty plain towards
                          Our Princess all immaculate,
                    We ought to bless her brothers' swords,
                          And piously ejaculate:
                                Oh, Hungary!
                                Oh, Hungary!
                          Oh, doughty sons of Hungary!
                                May all success
                                Attend and bless
                          Your warlike ironmongery!

                    Hilarion! Hilarion! Hilarion!

                                   (By this time, Arac, Guron, and
  Scynthius are
                                   on the ground, wounded —
  Hilarion, Cyril and
                                                       Florian stand
  over them.)

  Princess:    (Entering through gate and followed by Ladies,
                    Hildebrand, and Gama.)
               Hold! stay your hands! — we yield ourselves to you!
               Ladies, my brothers all lie bleeding there!
               Bind up their wounds — but look the other way.
               (Coming down) Is this the end?  (Bitterly to Lady
  Blanche)
               How say you, Lady Blanche—
               Can I with dignity my post resign?
               And if I do, will you then take my place?

  Blanche:     To answer this, it's meet that we consult
               The great Potential Mysteries;  I mean
               The five Subjunctive Possibilities—
               The May, the Might, the Would, the Could, the Should.
               Can you resign?  The Prince May claim you; if
               He Might, you Could — and if you Should, I Would!

  Princess:    I thought as much!  Then to my fate I yield—
               So ends my cherished scheme!  Oh, I had hoped
               To band all women with my maiden throng,
               And make them all abjure tyrannic Man!

  Hildebd:     A noble aim!

  Princess:                     You ridicule it now;
               But if I carried out this glorious scheme,
               At my exalted name Posterity
               Would bow in gratitude!

  Hildebd:                                                   But pray
  reflect —
               If you enlist all women in your cause,
               And make them all abjure tyrannic Man,
               The obvious question then arises, "How
               Is this Posterity to be provided?"

  Princess:    I never thought of that!  My Lady Blanche,
               How do you solve the riddle?

  Blanche:                                  Don't ask me —
               Abstract Philosophy won't answer it.
               Take him — he is your Shall.  Give in to Fate!

  Princess:    And you desert me.  I alone am staunch!

  Hilarion:    Madam, you placed your trust in Woman — well,
               Woman has failed you utterly — try Man,
               Give him one chance, it's only fair — besides,
               Women are far too precious, too divine,
               To try unproven theories upon.
               Experiments, the proverb says, are made
               On humble subjects — try our grosser clay,
               And mould it as you will!

  Cyril:                                    Remember, too
               Dear Madam, if at any time you feel
               A-weary of the Prince, you can return
               To Castle Adamant, and rule your girls
               As heretofore, you know.

  Princess:                                 And shall I find
               The Lady Psyche here?

  Psyche:                                   If Cyril, ma'am,
               Does not behave himself, I think you will.

  Princess:    And you Melissa, shall I find you here?

  Melissa:     Madam, however Florian turns out,
               Unhesitatingly I answer, No!

  Gama:        Consider this, my love, if your mama
               Had looked on matters from your point of view
               (I wish she had), why where would you have been?

  Blanche:     There's an unbounded field of speculation,
               On which I could discourse for hours!

  Princess:                                 No doubt!
               We will not trouble you.  Hilarion,
               I have been wrong —  I see my error now.
               Take me, Hilarion — "We will walk this world
               Yoked in all exercise of noble end!
               And so through those dark gates across the wild
               That no one knows!"  Indeed, I love thee — Come!

                                      Finale
                                "With joy abiding"

  Princess:         With joy abiding,
                    Together gliding
                          Through life's variety,
                          In sweet society,
                    And thus enthroning
                    The love I'm owning,
                    On this atoning
                          I will rely!

  Chorus:           It were profanity
                    For poor humanity
                    To treat as vanity
                          The sway of Love.
                    In no locality
                    Or principality
                    Is our mortality
                          It's sway above!

  Hilarion:         When day is fading,
                    With serenading
                          And such frivolity
                          Of tender quality—
                    With scented showers
                    Of fairest flowers,
                    The happy hours
                          Will gaily fly!
                    The happy hours will gaily fly!

  Chorus:           It were profanity
                    For poor humanity
                    To treat as vanity
                          The sway of Love.
                    In no locality
                    Or principality
                    Is our mortality
                          It's sway above!

  1st Sops:    In no lo-                    Others:
               cality Or princi-            Its
               pality Is our mor-                 sway
               tality It's sway a-                a-
               bove!                              bove!

  Princess &   With scented           Others:
  Hilarion:    showers Of fairest                 Its
               flowers, The happy                 sway
               hours will gaily                   a-
               fly!                               bove!

  All:         In no locality
               Or principality
               Is our mortality
               Above the sway of love!
                                      Curtain





RUDDIGORE
  or

  The Witch's Curse
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  MORTALS

  SIR RUTHVEN MURGATROYD (disguised as Robin Oakapple, a Young
       Farmer)
  RICHARD DAUNTLESS (his Foster-Brother, a Man-o'-war's man)
  SIR DESPARD MURGATROYD, OF RUDDIGORE (a Wicked Baronet)
  OLD ADAM GOODHEART (Robin's Faithful Servant)
  ROSE MAYBUD (a Village Maiden)
  MAD MARGARET
  DAME HANNAH (Rose's Aunt)
  ZORAH and RUTH (Professional Bridesmaids)

                               GHOSTS

  SIR RUPERT MURGATROYD (the First Baronet)
  SIR JASPER MURGATROYD (the Third Baronet)
  SIR LIONEL MURGATROYD (the Sixth Baronet)
  SIR CONRAD MURGATROYD (the Twelfth Baronet)
  SIR DESMOND MURGATROYD (the Sixteenth Baronet)
  SIR GILBERT MURGATROYD (the Eighteenth Baronet)
  SIR MERVYN MURGATROYD (the Twentieth Baronet)
                 and
  SIR RODERIC MURGATROYD (the Twenty-first Baronet)

  Chorus of Officers, Ancestors, Professional Bridesmaids, and
       Villagers

                                ACT I

            The Fishing Village of Rederring, in Cornwall

                               ACT II

               The Picture Gallery in Ruddigore Castle

                                TIME

                      Early in the 19th Century





ACT I
  SCENE.  The fishing village of Rederring (in Cornwall).  Rose
       Maybud's cottage is seen L.

  Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids.  They range themselves in front of
       Rose's cottage.

                     CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.

            Fair is Rose as bright May-day;
                 Soft is Rose as the warm west-wind;
            Sweet is Rose as the new-mown hay—
                 Rose is queen of maiden-kind!
                      Rose, all glowing
                           With virgin blushes, say—
                      Is anybody going
                           To marry you to-day?

                         SOLO—ZORAH.

            Every day, as the days roll on,
            Bridesmaids' garb we gaily don,
            Sure that a maid so fairly famed
            Can't long remain unclaimed.
            Hour by hour and day by day,
            Several months have passed away,
            Though she's the fairest flower that blows,
            No one has married Rose!

                           CHORUS.

                 Rose, all glowing
                      With virgin blushes, say—
                 Is anybody going
                      To marry you to-day?

  ZORAH.    Hour by hour and day by day,
            Months have passed away.

  CHORUS.   Fair is Rose as bright Mayday, etc.

                 (Enter Dame Hannah, from cottage.)

       HANNAH.  Nay, gentle maidens, you sing well but vainly, for
  Rose is still heart-free, and looks but coldly upon her many
  suitors.
       ZORAH.  It's very disappointing.  Every young man in the
  village is in love with her, but they are appalled by her beauty
  and modesty, and won't declare themselves; so, until she makes
  her own choice, there's no chance for anybody else.
       RUTH.  This is, perhaps, the only village in the world that
  possesses an endowed corps of professional bridesmaids who are
  bound to be on duty every day from ten to four—and it is at
  least six months since our services were required.  The pious
  charity by which we exist is practically wasted!
       ZOR.  We shall be disendowed—that will be the end of it!
  Dame Hannah—you're a nice old person—you could marry if you
  liked.  There's old Adam—Robin's faithful servant—he loves you
  with all the frenzy of a boy of fourteen.
       HAN.  Nay—that may never be, for I am pledged!
       ALL.  To whom?
       HAN.  To an eternal maidenhood!  Many years ago I was
  betrothed to a god-like youth who woo'd me under an assumed name.
  But on the very day upon which our wedding was to have been
  celebrated, I discovered that he was no other than Sir Roderic
  Murgatroyd, one of the bad Baronets of Ruddigore, and the uncle
  of the man who now bears that title.  As a son of that accursed
  race he was no husband for an honest girl, so, madly as I loved
  him, I left him then and there.  He died but ten years since, but
  I never saw him again.
       ZOR.  But why should you not marry a bad Baronet of
  Ruddigore?
       RUTH.  All baronets are bad; but was he worse than other
  baronets?
       HAN.  My child, he was accursed.
       ZOR.  But who cursed him?  Not you, I trust!
       HAN.  The curse is on all his line and has been, ever since
  the time of Sir Rupert, the first Baronet.  Listen, and you shall
  hear the legend:

                          LEGEND—HANNAH.

                 Sir Rupert Murgatroyd
                      His leisure and his riches
                 He ruthlessly employed
                      In persecuting witches.
                 With fear he'd make them quake—
                 He'd duck them in his lake—
                      He'd break their bones
                      With sticks and stones,
                 And burn them at the stake!

  CHORUS.             This sport he much enjoyed,
                      Did Rupert Murgatroyd—
                           No sense of shame
                           Or pity came
                      To Rupert Murgatroyd!

                 Once, on the village green,
                      A palsied hag he roasted,
                 And what took place, I ween,
                      Shook his composure boasted;
                 For, as the torture grim
                 Seized on each withered limb,
                      The writhing dame
                      `Mid fire and flame
                 Yelled forth this curse on him:

                 "Each lord of Ruddigore,
                      Despite his best endeavour,
                 Shall do one crime, or more,
                      Once, every day, for ever!
                 This doom he can't defy,
                 However he may try,
                      For should he stay
                      His hand, that day
                 In torture he shall die!"

                 The prophecy came true:
                      Each heir who held the title
                 Had, every day, to do
                      Some crime of import vital;
                 Until, with guilt o'erplied,
                 "I'll sin no more!" he cried,
                      And on the day
                      He said that say,
                 In agony he died!

  CHORUS.        And thus, with sinning cloyed,
                 Has died each Murgatroyd,
                      And so shall fall,
                      Both one and all,
                 Each coming Murgatroyd!

                                    (Exeunt Chorus of Bridesmaids.)

  (Enter Rose Maybud from cottage, with small basket on her arm.)

       HAN.  Whither away, dear Rose?  On some errand of charity,
  as is thy wont?
       ROSE.  A few gifts, dear aunt, for deserving villagers.  Lo,
  here is some peppermint rock for old gaffer Gadderby, a set of
  false teeth for pretty little Ruth Rowbottom, and a pound of
  snuff for the poor orphan girl on the hill.
       HAN.  Ah, Rose, pity that so much goodness should not help
  to make some gallant youth happy for life!  Rose, why dost thou
  harden that little heart of thine?  Is there none hereaway whom
  thou couldst love?
       ROSE.  And if there were such an one, verily it would ill
  become me to tell him so.
       HAN.  Nay, dear one, where true love is, there is little
  need of prim formality.
       ROSE.  Hush, dear aunt, for thy words pain me sorely.  Hung
  in a plated dish-cover to the knocker of the workhouse door, with
  naught that I could call mine own, save a change of baby-linen
  and a book of etiquette, little wonder if I have always regarded
  that work as a voice from a parent's tomb.  This hallowed volume
  (producing a book of etiquette), composed, if I may believe the
  title-page, by no less an authority than the wife of a Lord
  Mayor, has been, through life, my guide and monitor.  By its
  solemn precepts I have learnt to test the moral worth of all who
  approach me.  The man who bites his bread, or eats peas with a
  knife, I look upon as a lost creature, and he who has not
  acquired the proper way of entering and leaving a room is the
  object of my pitying horror.  There are those in this village who
  bite their nails, dear aunt, and nearly all are wont to use their
  pocket combs in public places.  In truth I could pursue this
  painful theme much further, but behold, I have said enough.
       HAN.  But is there not one among them who is faultless, in
  thine eyes?  For example—young Robin.  He combines the manners
  of a Marquis with the morals of a Methodist.  Couldst thou not
  love him?
       ROSE.  And even if I could, how should I confess it unto
  him?  For lo, he is shy, and sayeth naught!

                          BALLAD—ROSE.

                 If somebody there chanced to be
                      Who loved me in a manner true,
                 My heart would point him out to me,
                      And I would point him out to you.
  (Referring     But here it says of those who point—
  to book.)      Their manners must be out of joint—
                           You may not point—
                           You must not point—
                      It's manners out of joint, to point!

                 Ah! Had I the love of such as he,
                      Some quiet spot he'd take me to,
                 Then he could whisper it to me,
                      And I could whisper it to you.
  (Referring     But whispering, I've somewhere met,
  to book.)      Is contrary to etiquette:
                           Where can it be (Searching book.)
                           Now let me see—(Finding reference.)
                                Yes, yes!
                 It's contrary to etiquette!

                     (Showing it to Dame Hannah.)

                 If any well-bred youth I knew,
                      Polite and gentle, neat and trim,
                 Then I would hint as much to you,
                      And you could hint as much to him.
  (Referring     But here it says, in plainest print,
  to book.)           "It's most unladylike to hint"—
                           You may not hint,
                           You must not hint—
                      It says you mustn't hint, in print!

                 Ah! And if I loved him through and through—
                      (True love and not a passing whim),
                 Then I could speak of it to you,
                      And you could speak of it to him.
  (Referring     But here I find it doesn't do
  to book.)      To speak until you're spoken to.
                      Where can it be?  (Searching book.)
                      Now let me see—(Finding reference.)
                           Yes, yes!
                 "Don't speak until you're spoken to!"
                                                (Exit Dame Hannah.)

       ROSE.  Poor aunt!  Little did the good soul think, when she
  breathed the hallowed name of Robin, that he would do even as
  well as another.  But he resembleth all the youths in this
  village, in that he is unduly bashful in my presence, and lo, it
  is hard to bring him to the point.  But soft, he is here!

        (Rose is about to go when Robin enters and calls her.)

  ROBIN.  Mistress Rose!
  ROSE.  (Surprised.)  Master Robin!
  ROB.  I wished to say that—it is fine.
  ROSE.  It is passing fine.
  ROB.  But we do want rain.
  ROSE.  Aye, sorely! Is that all?
  ROB.  (Sighing.)  That is all.
  ROSE.  Good day, Master Robin!
  ROB.  Good day, Mistress Rose!  (Both going—both stop.)
  ROSE.  I crave pardon, I—
  ROB.  I beg pardon, I—
  ROSE.  You were about to say?—
  ROB.  I would fain consult you—
  ROSE.  Truly?
  ROB.  It is about a friend.
  ROSE.  In truth I have a friend myself.
  ROB.  Indeed?  I mean, of course—
  ROSE.  And I would fain consult you—
  ROB.  (Anxiously.)  About him?
  ROSE.  (Prudishly.)  About her.
  ROB.  (Relieved.)  Let us consult one another.

                          DUET-ROBIN and ROSE

  ROB.      I know a youth who loves a little maid—
                 (Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)
            Silent is he, for he's modest and afraid—
                 (Hey, but he's timid as a youth can be!)

  ROSE.     I know a maid who loves a gallant youth,
                 (Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
            She cannot tell him all the sad, sad truth—
                 (Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)

  ROB.                Poor little man!

  ROSE.               Poor little maid!

  ROB.                Poor little man!

  ROSE.               Poor little maid!

  BOTH.     Now tell me pray, and tell me true,
            What in the world should the (young man\maiden) do?

  ROB.      He cannot eat and he cannot sleep—
                 (Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)
            Daily he goes for to wail—for to weep—
                 (Hey, but he's wretched as a youth can be!)

  ROSE.     She's very thin and she's very pale—
                 (Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
            Daily she goes for to weep—for to wail—
                 (Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)

  ROB.                Poor little maid!

  ROSE.               Poor little man!

  ROB.                Poor little maid!

  ROSE.               Poor little man!

  BOTH.     Now tell me pray, and tell me true,
            What in the world should the (young man\maiden) do?

  ROSE.     If I were the youth I should offer her my name—
                 (Hey, but her face is a sight for to see!)

  ROB.      If were the maid I should fan his honest flame—
                 (Hey, but he's bashful as a youth can be!)

  ROSE.     If I were the youth I should speak to her to-day—
                 (Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)

  ROB.      If I were the maid I should meet the lad half way—
                 (For I really do believe that timid youth will
                      die!)

  ROSE.     Poor little man!

  ROB.      Poor little maid!

  ROSE.     Poor little man!

  ROB.      Poor little maid!

  BOTH.     I thank you, (miss\sir), for your counsel true;
                 I'll tell that (youth\maid) what (he\she) ought to
                      do!
                                                       (Exit ROSE.)

       ROB.  Poor child!  I sometimes think that if she wasn't
  quite so particular I might venture—but no, no—even then I
  should be unworthy of her!

                  (He sits desponding.  Enter Old Adam.)

       ADAM.  My kind master is sad!  Dear Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd—
       ROB.  Hush! As you love me, breathe not that hated name.
  Twenty years ago, in horror at the prospect of inheriting that
  hideous title, and with it the ban that compels all who succeed
  to the baronetcy to commit at least one deadly crime per day, for
  life, I fled my home, and concealed myself in this innocent
  village under the name of Robin Oakapple.  My younger brother,
  Despard, believing me to be dead, succeeded to the title and its
  attendant curse.  For twenty years I have been dead and buried.
  Don't dig me up now.
       ADAM.  Dear master, it shall be as you wish, for have I not
  sworn to obey you for ever in all things?  Yet, as we are here
  alone, and as I belong to that particular description of good old
  man to whom the truth is a refreshing novelty, let me call you by
  your own right title once more!  (Robin assents.)  Sir Ruthven
  Murgatroyd!  Baronet!  Of Ruddigore!  Whew!  It's like eight
  hours at the seaside!
       ROB.  My poor old friend!  Would there were more like you!
       ADAM.  Would there were indeed!  But I bring you good
  tidings.  Your foster-brother, Richard, has returned from
  sea—his ship the Tom-Tit rides yonder at anchor, and he himself
  is even now in this very village!
       ROB.  My beloved foster-brother?  No, no—it cannot be!
       ADAM.  It is even so—and see, he comes this way!
                                                (Exeunt together.)

                       (Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids.)

                                   CHORUS.

            From the briny sea
                 Comes young Richard, all victorious!
            Valorous is he—
                 His achievements all are glorious!
            Let the welkin ring
            With the news we bring
                 Sing it—shout it—
                 Tell about it—
            Safe and sound returneth he,
            All victorious from the sea!

  (Enter Richard.  The girls welcome him as he greets old
       acquaintances.)

                             BALLAD—RICHARD.

            I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop,
                 And, off Cape Finistere,
                      A merchantman we see,
                      A Frenchman, going free,
                 So we made for the bold Mounseer,
                      D'ye see?
                 We made for the bold Mounseer.

  CHORUS.        So we made for the bold Mounseer,
                      D'ye see?
                 We made for the bold Mounseer.

            But she proved to be a Frigate—and she up with her
                 ports,
                 And fires with a thirty-two!
                      It come uncommon near,
                      But we answered with a cheer,
                 Which paralysed the Parley-voo,
                           D'ye see?
                 Which paralysed the Parley-voo!

  CHORUS.        Which paralysed the Parley-voo,
                           D'ye see?
                 Which paralysed the Parley-voo!

            Then our Captain he up and he says, says he,
                 "That chap we need not fear,—
                      We can take her, if we like,
                      She is sartin for to strike,
                 For she's only a darned Mounseer,
                           D'ye see?
                 She's only a darned Mounseer!"

  CHORUS.        For she's only a darned Mounseer,
                           D'ye see?
                 She's only a darned Mounseer!

            "But to fight a French fal-lal—it's like hittin' of a
                 gal!
                 It's a lubberly thing for to do;
                      For we, with all our faults,
                      Why, we're sturdy British salts,
                 While she's only a Parley-voo,
                           D'ye see?
                 While she's only a poor Parley-voo!"

  CHORUS.        While she's only a Parley-voo,
                           D'ye see?
                 While she's only a poor Parley-voo!'

            So we up with our helm, and we scuds before the breeze
                 As we gives a compassionating cheer;
                      Froggee answers with a shout
                      As he sees us go about,
                 Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,
                           D'ye see?
                 Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!

  CHORUS.        Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,
                           D'ye see?
                 Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!

            And I'll wager in their joy they kissed each other's
                 cheek
                 (Which is what them furriners do),
                      And they blessed their lucky stars
                      We were hardy British tars
                 Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo,
                           D'ye see?
                 Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!

  CHORUS.        Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo,
                           D'ye see?
                 Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!

                           (HORNPIPE.)
                                                  (Exeunt Chorus.)

                           (Enter Robin.)

       ROB.  Richard!
       RICH.  Robin!
       ROB.  My beloved foster-brother, and very dearest friend,
  welcome home again after ten long years at sea!  It is such deeds
  as yours that cause our flag to be loved and dreaded throughout
  the civilized world!
       RICH.  Why, lord love ye, Rob, that's but a trifle to what
  we have done in the way of sparing life!  I believe I may say,
  without exaggeration, that the marciful little Tom-Tit has spared
  more French frigates than any craft afloat!  But 'taint for a
  British seaman to brag, so I'll just stow my jawin' tackle and
  belay. (Robin sighs.)  But 'vast heavin', messmate, what's
  brought you all a-cockbill?
       ROB.  Alas, Dick, I love Rose Maybud, and love in vain!
       RICH.  You love in vain?  Come, that's too good!  Why,
  you're a fine strapping muscular young fellow—tall and strong as
  a to'-gall'n'-m'st—taut as a forestay—aye, and a barrowknight
  to boot, if all had their rights!
       ROB.  Hush, Richard—not a word about my true rank, which
  none here suspect.  Yes, I know well enough that few men are
  better calculated to win a woman's heart than I.  I'm a fine
  fellow, Dick, and worthy any woman's love—happy the girl who
  gets me, say I.  But I'm timid, Dick; shy—nervous—modest—
  retiring—diffident—and I cannot tell her, Dick, I cannot tell
  her!  Ah, you've no idea what a poor opinion I have of myself,
  and how little I deserve it.
       RICH.  Robin, do you call to mind how, years ago, we swore
  that, come what might, we would always act upon our hearts'
  dictates?
       ROB.  Aye, Dick, and I've always kept that oath.  In doubt,
  difficulty, and danger I've always asked my heart what I should
  do, and it has never failed me.
       RICH.  Right!  Let your heart be your compass, with a clear
  conscience for your binnacle light, and you'll sail ten knots on
  a bowline, clear of shoals, rocks, and quicksands!  Well, now,
  what does my heart say in this here difficult situation?  Why, it
  says, "Dick," it says—(it calls me Dick acos it's known me from
  a babby)—"Dick," it says, "you ain't shy—you ain't
  modest—speak you up for him as is!"  Robin, my lad, just you lay
  me alongside, and when she's becalmed under my lee, I'll spin her
  a yarn that shall sarve to fish you two together for life!
       ROB.  Will you do this thing for me?  Can you, do you think?
  Yes (feeling his pulse).  There's no false modesty about you.
  Your—what I would call bumptious self-assertiveness (I mean the
  expression in its complimentary sense) has already made you a
  bos'n's mate, and it will make an admiral of you in time, if you
  work it properly, you dear, incompetent old impostor!  My dear
  fellow, I'd give my right arm for one tenth of your modest
  assurance!

                           SONG—ROBIN.

            My boy, you may take it from me,
                 That of all the afflictions accurst
                      With which a man's saddled
                      And hampered and addled,
                 A diffident nature's the worst.
            Though clever as clever can be—
                 A Crichton of early romance—
                      You must stir it and stump it,
                      And blow your own trumpet,
                 Or, trust me, you haven't a chance!

                      If you wish in the world to advance,
                      Your merits you're bound to enhance,
                           You must stir it and stump it,
                           And blow your own trumpet,
                 Or, trust me, you haven't a chance!

            Now take, for example, my case:
                 I've a bright intellectual brain—
                      In all London city
                      There's no one so witty—
                 I've thought so again and again.
            I've a highly intelligent face—
                 My features cannot be denied—
                      But, whatever I try, sir,
                      I fail in—and why, sir?
                 I'm modesty personified!

                      If you wish in the world to advance, etc.

            As a poet, I'm tender and quaint—
                 I've passion and fervour and grace—
                      From Ovid and Horace
                      To Swinburne and Morris,
                 They all of them take a back place.
            Then I sing and I play and I paint:
                 Though none are accomplished as I,
                      To say so were treason:
                      You ask me the reason?
                 I'm diffident, modest, and shy!

                 If you wish in the world to advance, etc.

                                                      (Exit Robin.)

       RICH.  (looking after him).  Ah, it's a thousand pities he's
  such a poor opinion of himself, for a finer fellow don't walk!
  Well, I'll do my best for him.  "Plead for him as though it was
  for your own father"—that's what my heart's a-remarkin' to me
  just now.  But here she comes!  Steady!  Steady it is!  (Enter
  Rose—he is much struck by her.)  By the Port Admiral, but she's
  a tight little craft!  Come, come, she's not for you, Dick, and
  yet—she's fit to marry Lord Nelson!  By the Flag of Old England,
  I can't look at her unmoved.
       ROSE.  Sir, you are agitated—
       RICH.  Aye, aye, my lass, well said!  I am agitated, true
  enough!—took flat aback, my girl; but 'tis naught—'twill pass.
  (Aside.)  This here heart of mine's a-dictatin' to me like
  anythink.  Question is, Have I a right to disregard its
  promptings?
       ROSE.  Can I do aught to relieve thine anguish, for it
  seemeth to me that thou art in sore trouble?  This
  apple—(offering a damaged apple).
       RICH.  (looking at it and returning it).  No, my lass,
  'tain't that: I'm—I'm took flat aback—I never see anything like
  you in all my born days.  Parbuckle me, if you ain't the
  loveliest gal I've ever set eyes on.  There—I can't say fairer
  than that, can I?
       ROSE.  No.  (Aside.)  The question is, Is it meet that an
  utter stranger should thus express himself?  (Refers to book.)
  Yes—"Always speak the truth."
       RICH.  I'd no thoughts of sayin' this here to you on my own
  account, for, truth to tell, I was chartered by another; but when
  I see you my heart it up and it says, says it, "This is the very
  lass for you, Dick"—"speak up to her, Dick," it says—(it calls
  me Dick acos we was at school together)—"tell her all, Dick," it
  says, "never sail under false colours—it's mean!"  That's what
  my heart tells me to say, and in my rough, common-sailor fashion,
  I've said it, and I'm a-waiting for your reply.  I'm a-tremblin',
  miss.  Lookye here—(holding out his hand).  That's narvousness!
       ROSE (aside).  Now, how should a maiden deal with such an
  one?  (Consults book.)  "Keep no one in unnecessary suspense."
  (Aloud.)  Behold, I will not keep you in unnecessary suspense.
  (Refers to book.)  "In accepting an offer of marriage, do so with
  apparent hesitation." (Aloud.)  I take you, but with a certain
  show of reluctance.  (Refers to book.)  "Avoid any appearance of
  eagerness."  (Aloud.)  Though you will bear in mind that I am far
  from anxious to do so.  (Refers to book.)  "A little show of
  emotion will not be misplaced!"  (Aloud.)  Pardon this tear!
  (Wipes her eye.)
       RICH.  Rose, you've made me the happiest blue-jacket in
  England!  I wouldn't change places with the Admiral of the Fleet,
  no matter who he's a-huggin' of at this present moment!  But,
  axin' your pardon, miss (wiping his lips with his hand), might I
  be permitted to salute the flag I'm a-goin' to sail under?
       ROSE (referring to book).  "An engaged young lady should not
  permit too many familiarities." (Aloud.)  Once!  (Richard kisses
  her.)

                        DUET—RICHARD and ROSE.

  RICH.          The battle's roar is over,
                      O my love!
                 Embrace thy tender lover,
                      O my love!
                 From tempests' welter,
                      From war's alarms,
                 O give me shelter
                      Within those arms!
                 Thy smile alluring,
                 All heart-ache curing,
                 Gives peace enduring,
                      O my love!

  ROSE.          If heart both true and tender,
                      O my love!
                 A life-love can engender,
                      O my love!
                 A truce to sighing
                      And tears of brine,
                 For joy undying
                      Shall aye be mine,

  BOTH.          And thou and I, love,
                 Shall live and die, love,
                 Without a sigh, love—
                      My own, my love!

               (Enter Robin, with Chorus of Bridesmaids.)

  CHORUS.

            If well his suit has sped,
            Oh, may they soon be wed!
            Oh, tell us, tell us, pray,
            What doth the maiden say?
            In singing are we justified,
                 Hall the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!
                 Let the nuptial knot be tied:
                      In fair phrases
                      Hymn their praises,
                 Hail the Bridegroom—hall the Bride?

       ROB.  Well—what news?  Have you spoken to her?
       RICH.  Aye, my lad, I have—so to speak—spoke her.
       ROB.  And she refuses?
       RICH.  Why, no, I can't truly say she do.
       ROB.  Then she accepts!  My darling!  (Embraces her.)

                            BRIDESMAIDS.

            Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride! etc.

       ROSE (aside, referring to her book).  Now, what should a
  maiden do when she is embraced by the wrong gentleman?
       RICH.  Belay, my lad, belay.  You don't understand.
       ROSE.  Oh, sir, belay, I beseech you!
       RICH.  You see, it's like this: she accepts—but it's me!
       ROB.  You!  (Richard embraces Rose.)

                            BRIDESMAIDS.

                 Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!
                 When the nuptial knot is tied—

       ROB. (interrupting angrily).  Hold your tongues, will you!
  Now then, what does this mean?
       RICH.  My poor lad, my heart grieves for thee, but it's like
  this: the moment I see her, and just as I was a-goin' to mention
  your name, my heart it up and it says, says it—"Dick, you've
  fell in love with her yourself," it says; "be honest and
  sailor-like—don't skulk under false colours—speak up," it says,
  "take her, you dog, and with her my blessin'!"

                            BRIDESMAIDS.

                 Hail the Bridegroom—hail the bride—

       ROB.  Will you be quiet!  Go away!  (Chorus makes faces at
  him and exeunt.)  Vulgar girls!
       RICH.  What could I do?  I'm bound to obey my heart's
  dictates.
       ROB.  Of course—no doubt.  It's quite right—I don't
  mind—that is, not particularly—only it's—it is disappointing,
  you know.
       ROSE (to Robin).  Oh, but, sir, I knew not that thou didst
  seek me in wedlock, or in very truth I should not have hearkened
  unto this man, for behold, he is but a lowly mariner, and very
  poor withal, whereas thou art a tiller of the land, and thou hast
  fat oxen, and many sheep and swine, a considerable dairy farm and
  much corn and oil!
       RICH.  That's true, my lass, but it's done now, ain't it,
  Rob?
       ROSE.  Still it may be that I should not be happy in thy
  love.  I am passing young and little able to judge.  Moreover, as
  to thy character I know naught!
       ROB.  Nay, Rose, I'll answer for that.  Dick has won thy
  love fairly.  Broken-hearted as I am, I'll stand up for Dick
  through thick and thin!
       RICH.  (with emotion).  Thankye, messmate! that's well said.
  That's spoken honest.  Thankye, Rob!  (Grasps his hand.)
       ROSE.  Yet methinks I have heard that sailors are but
  worldly men, and little prone to lead serious and thoughtful
  lives!
       ROB.  And what then?  Admit that Dick is not a steady
  character, and that when he's excited he uses language that would
  make your hair curl.  Grant that—he does.  It's the truth, and
  I'm not going to deny it.  But look at his good qualities.  He's
  as nimble as a pony, and his hornpipe is the talk of the fleet!
       RICH.  Thankye, Rob!  That's well spoken.  Thankye, Rob!
       ROSE.  But it may be that he drinketh strong waters which do
  bemuse a man, and make him even as the wild beasts of the desert!
       ROB.  Well, suppose he does, and I don't say he don't, for
  rum's his bane, and ever has been.  He does drink—I won't deny
  it.  But what of that?  Look at his arms—tattooed to the
  shoulder!  (Rich. rolls up his sleeves.)  No, no—I won't hear a
  word against Dick!
       ROSE.  But they say that mariners are but rarely true to
  those whom they profess to love!
       ROB.  Granted—granted—and I don't say that Dick isn't as
  bad as any of 'em.  (Rich. chuckles.)  You are, you know you are,
  you dog! a devil of a fellow—a regular out-and-out Lothario!
  But what then?  You can't have everything, and a better hand at
  turning-in a dead-eye don't walk a deck!  And what an
  accomplishment that is in a family man!  No, no—not a word
  against Dick.  I'll stick up for him through thick and thin!
       RICH.  Thankye, Rob, thankye.  You're a true friend.  I've
  acted accordin' to my heart's dictates, and such orders as them
  no man should disobey.

                  ENSEMBLE—RICHARD, ROBIN, and ROSE.

            In sailing o'er life's ocean wide
            Your heart should be your only guide;
            With summer sea and favouring wind,
            Yourself in port you'll surely find.

                           SOLO—RICHARD.

            My heart says, "To this maiden strike—
                 She's captured you.
            She's just the sort of girl you like—
                 You know you do.
            If other man her heart should gain,
                 I shall resign."
            That's what it says to me quite plain,
                 This heart of mine.

                            SOLO—ROBIN.

            My heart says, "You've a prosperous lot,
                 With acres wide;
            You mean to settle all you've got
                 Upon your bride."
            It don't pretend to shape my acts
                 By word or sign;
            It merely states these simple facts,
                 This heart of mine!

                           SOLO—ROSE.

            Ten minutes since my heart said "white"—
                 It now says "black".
            It then said "left"—it now says "right"—
                 Hearts often tack.

            I must obey its latest strain—
                 You tell me so.  (To Richard.)
            But should it change its mind again,
                 I'll let you know.

        (Turning from Richard to Robin, who embraces her.)

                            ENSEMBLE.

            In sailing o'er life's ocean wide
            No doubt the heart should be your guide;
            But it is awkward when you find
            A heart that does not know its mind!

       (Exeunt Robin with Rose L., and Richard, weeping, R.)

  (Enter Mad Margaret.  She is wildly dressed in picturesque tatters,
       and is an obvious caricature of theatrical madness.)

                         SCENA—MARGARET.

                 Cheerily carols the lark
                      Over the cot.
                 Merrily whistles the clerk
                      Scratching a blot.
                           But the lark
                           And the clerk,
                           I remark,
                      Comfort me not!

                 Over the ripening peach
                      Buzzes the bee.
                 Splash on the billowy beach
                      Tumbles the sea.
                           But the peach
                           And the beach
                           They are each
                      Nothing to me!
                           And why?
                           Who am I?
                 Daft Madge!  Crazy Meg!
                 Mad Margaret!  Poor Peg!
                      He! he! he! he! (chuckling).

                           Mad, I?
                                Yes, very!
                           But why?
                                Mystery!
                                     Don't call!
                                          Whisht! whisht!
                           No crime—
                                'Tis only
                           That I'm
                                Love-lonely!
                                     That's all!

                          BALLAD—MARGARET.

                 To a garden full of posies
                      Cometh one to gather flowers,
                      And he wanders through its bowers
                 Toying with the wanton roses,
                      Who, uprising from their beds,
                      Hold on high their shameless heads
                 With their pretty lips a-pouting,
                 Never doubting—never doubting
                      That for Cytherean posies
                      He would gather aught but roses!

                 In a nest of weeds and nettles
                      Lay a violet, half-hidden,
                      Hoping that his glance unbidden
                 Yet might fall upon her petals.
                      Though she lived alone, apart,
                      Hope lay nestling at her heart,
                 But, alas, the cruel awaking
                 Set her little heart a-breaking,
                      For he gathered for his posies
                      Only roses—only roses!
                                               (Bursts into tears.)

                              (Enter Rose.)

       ROSE.  A maiden, and in tears?  Can I do aught to soften thy
  sorrow?  This apple—(offering apple).
       MAR.  (Examines it and rejects it.)  No!  (Mysteriously.)
  Tell me, are you mad?
       ROSE.  I?  No!  That is, I think not.
       MAR.  That's well!  Then you don't love Sir Despard
  Murgatroyd?  All mad girls love him.  I love him.  I'm poor Mad
  Margaret—Crazy Meg—Poor Peg!  He! he! he! he! (chuckling).
       ROSE.  Thou lovest the bad Baronet of Ruddigore?  Oh,
  horrible—too horrible!
       MAR.  You pity me?  Then be my mother!  The squirrel had a
  mother, but she drank and the squirrel fled!  Hush!  They sing a
  brave song in our parts—it runs somewhat thus: (Sings.)

            "The cat and the dog and the little puppee
            Sat down in a—down in a—in a——

  I forget what they sat down in, but so the song goes!
  Listen—I've come to pinch her!
       ROSE.  Mercy, whom?
       MAR.  You mean "who".
       ROSE.  Nay! it is the accusative after the verb.
       MAR.  True.  (Whispers melodramatically.)  I have come to
  pinch Rose Maybud!
       ROSE.  (Aside, alarmed.)  Rose Maybud!
       MAR.  Aye!  I love him—he loved me once.  But that's all
  gone, fisht!  He gave me an Italian glance—thus (business)—and
  made me his.  He will give her an Italian glance, and make her
  his.  But it shall not be, for I'll stamp on her—stamp on her-
  -stamp on her!  Did you ever kill anybody?  No?  Why not?
  Listen—I killed a fly this morning!  It buzzed, and I wouldn't
  have it.  So it died—pop!  So shall she!
       ROSE.  But, behold, I am Rose Maybud, and I would fain not
  die "pop."
       MAR.  You are Rose Maybud?
       ROSE.  Yes, sweet Rose Maybud!
       MAR.  Strange!  They told me she was beautiful!  And he
  loves you!  No, no!  If I thought that, I would treat you as the
  auctioneer and land-agent treated the lady-bird—I would rend you
  asunder!
       ROSE.  Nay, be pacified, for behold I am pledged to another,
  and lo, we are to be wedded this very day!
       MAR.  Swear me that!  Come to a Commissioner and let me have
  it on affidavit!  I once made an affidavit—but it died—it died-
  -it died!  But see, they come—Sir Despard and his evil crew!
  Hide, hide—they are all mad—quite mad!
       ROSE.  What makes you think that?
       MAR.  Hush!  They sing choruses in public.  That's mad
  enough, I think.  Go—hide away, or they will seize you!  Hush!
  Quite softly—quite, quite softly!
                                      (Exeunt together, on tiptoe.)

  (Enter Chorus of Bucks and Blades, heralded by Chorus of
       Bridesmaids.)

                      CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.

                      Welcome, gentry,
                      For your entry
                 Sets our tender hearts a-beating.
                      Men of station,
                      Admiration
                 Prompts this unaffected greeting.
                           Hearty greeting offer we!

                    CHORUS OF BUCKS AND BLADES.

                      When thoroughly tired
                      Of being admired,
                 By ladies of gentle degree—degree,
                      With flattery sated,
                      High-flown and inflated,
                 Away from the city we flee—we flee!
                      From charms intramural
                      To prettiness rural
                      The sudden transition
                      Is simply Elysian,
                      So come, Amaryllis,
                      Come, Chloe and Phyllis,
                 Your slaves, for the moment, are we!

  ALL.           From charms intramural, etc.

                       CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.

                      The sons of the tillage
                      Who dwell in this village
                 Are people of lowly degree—degree.
                      Though honest and active,
                      They're most unattractive,
                 And awkward as awkward can be—can be.
                      They're clumsy clodhoppers
                      With axes and choppers,
                      And shepherds and ploughmen
                      And drovers and cowmen,
                      And hedgers and reapers
                      And carters and keepers,
                 But never a lover for me!

                             ENSEMBLE.

       BRIDESMAIDS.                  BUCKS AND BLADES.

  So welcome gentry, etc.       When thoroughly tired, etc.

  (Enter Sir Despard Murgatroyd.)

                   SONG AND CHORUS—SIR DESPARD.

  SIR D.    Oh, why am I moody and sad?
  CH.                                Can't guess!
  SIR D.    And why am I guiltily mad?
  CH.                                Confess!
  SIR D.    Because I am thoroughly bad!
  CH.                                Oh yes—
  SIR D.         You'll see it at once in my face.
            Oh, why am I husky and hoarse?
  CH.                                Ah, why?
  SIR D.    It's the workings of conscience, of course.
  CH.                                Fie, fie!
  SIR D.    And huskiness stands for remorse,
  CH.                                Oh my!
  SIR D.         At least it does so in my case!
  SIR D.    When in crime one is fully employed—
  CH.                                Like you—
  SIR D.    Your expression gets warped and destroyed:
  CH.                                It do.
  SIR D.    It's a penalty none can avoid;
  CH.                                How true!
  SIR D.         I once was a nice-looking youth;
            But like stone from a strong catapult—
  CH. (explaining to each other).    A trice—
  SIR D.    I rushed at my terrible cult—
  CH. (explaining to each other).    That's vice—
  SIR D.    Observe the unpleasant result!
  CH.                                Not nice.
  SIR D.         Indeed I am telling the truth!
  SIR D.    Oh, innocent, happy though poor!
  CH.                                That's we—
  SIR D.    If I had been virtuous, I'm sure—
  CH.                                Like me—
  SIR D.    I should be as nice-looking as you're!
  CH.                                May be.
  SIR D.         You are very nice-looking indeed!
            Oh, innocents, listen in time—
  CH.                                We doe,
  SIR D.    Avoid an existence of crime—
  CH.                                Just so—
  SIR D.    Or you'll be as ugly as I'm—
  CH. (loudly).                      No! No!
  SIR D.         And now, if you please, we'll proceed.

  (All the girls express their horror of Sir Despard.  As he
       approaches them they fly from him, terror-stricken, leaving
       him alone on the stage.)

       SIR D.  Poor children, how they loathe me—me whose hands
  are certainly steeped in infamy, but whose heart is as the heart
  of a little child!  But what is a poor baronet to do, when a
  whole picture gallery of ancestors step down from their frames
  and threaten him with an excruciating death if he hesitate to
  commit his daily crime?  But ha! ha!  I am even with them!
  (Mysteriously.)  I get my crime over the first thing in the
  morning, and then, ha! ha! for the rest of the day I do good—I
  do good—I do good!  (Melodramatically.)  Two days since, I stole
  a child and built an orphan asylum.  Yesterday I robbed a bank
  and endowed a bishopric.  To-day I carry off Rose Maybud and
  atone with a cathedral!  This is what it is to be the sport and
  toy of a Picture Gallery!  But I will be bitterly revenged upon
  them!  I will give them all to the Nation, and nobody shall ever
  look upon their faces again!

                         (Enter Richard.)

       RICH.  Ax your honour's pardon, but—
       SIR D.  Ha! observed!  And by a mariner!  What would you
  with me, fellow?
       RICH.  Your honour, I'm a poor man-o'-war's-man, becalmed in
  the doldrums—
       SIR D.  I don't know them.
       RICH.  And I make bold to ax your honour's advice.  Does
  your honour know what it is to have a heart?
       SIR D.  My honour knows what it is to have a complete
  apparatus for conducting the circulation of the blood through the
  veins and arteries of the human body.
       RICH.  Aye, but has your honour a heart that ups and looks
  you in the face, and gives you quarter-deck orders that it's life
  and death to disobey?
       SIR D.  I have not a heart of that description, but I have a
  Picture Gallery that presumes to take that liberty.
       RICH.  Well, your honour, it's like this—Your honour had an
  elder brother—
       SIR D.  It had.
       RICH.  Who should have inherited your title and, with it,
  its cuss.
       SIR D.  Aye, but he died.  Oh, Ruthven!—
       RICH.  He didn't.
       SIR D.  He did not?
       RICH.  He didn't.  On the contrary, he lives in this here
  very village, under the name of Robin Oakapple, and he's a-going
  to marry Rose Maybud this very day.
       SIR D.  Ruthven alive, and going to marry Rose Maybud!  Can
  this be possible?
       RICH.  Now the question I was going to ask your honour is-
  -Ought I to tell your honour this?
       SIR D.  I don't know.  It's a delicate point.  I think you
  ought.  Mind, I'm not sure, but I think so.
       RICH.  That's what my heart says.  It says, "Dick," it says
  (it calls me Dick acos it's entitled to take that liberty), "that
  there young gal would recoil from him if she knowed what he
  really were.  Ought you to stand off and on, and let this young
  gal take this false step and never fire a shot across her bows to
  bring her to?  No," it says, "you did not ought." And I won't
  ought, accordin'.
       SIR D.  Then you really feel yourself at liberty to tell me
  that my elder brother lives—that I may charge him with his cruel
  deceit, and transfer to his shoulders the hideous thraldom under
  which I have laboured for so many years!  Free—free at last!
  Free to live a blameless life, and to die beloved and regretted
  by all who knew me!

                   DUET—SIR DESPARD and RICHARD.

  RICH.          You understand?
  SIR D.              I think I do;
                           With vigour unshaken
                           This step shall be taken.
                 It's neatly planned.
  RICH.               I think so too;
                           I'll readily bet it
                           You'll never regret it!

  BOTH.          For duty, duty must be done;
                 The rule applies to every one,
                 And painful though that duty be,
                 To shirk the task were fiddle-de-dee!

  SIR D.         The bridegroom comes—
  RICH.               Likewise the bride—
                           The maidens are very
                           Elated and merry;
                      They are her chums.
  SIR D.                   To lash their pride
                                Were almost a pity,
                                The pretty committee!

  BOTH.               But duty, duty must be done;
                      The rule applies to every one,
                      And painful though that duty be,
                      To shirk the task were fiddle-de-dee!

                                  (Exeunt Richard and Sir Despard.)

                 (Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids and Bucks.)

                          CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.

                 Hail the bride of seventeen summers:
                      In fair phrases
                      Hymn her praises;
                 Lift your song on high, all comers.
                      She rejoices
                      In your voices.
                 Smiling summer beams upon her,
                 Shedding every blessing on her:
                      Maidens greet her—
                      Kindly treat her—
                 You may all be brides some day!

                             CHORUS OF BUCKS.

                 Hail the bridegroom who advances,
                      Agitated,
                      Yet elated.
                 He's in easy circumstances,
                      Young and lusty,
                      True and trusty.

  ALL.           Smiling summer beams upon her, etc.

  (Enter Robin, attended by Richard and Old Adam, meeting Rose,
       attended by Zorah and Dame Hannah.  Rose and Robin embrace.)

                              MADRIGAL.
          ROSE, DAME HANNAH, RICHARD, OLD ADAM with CHORUS.

  ROSE.          When the buds are blossoming,
                 Smiling welcome to the spring,
                 Lovers choose a wedding day—
                 Life is love in merry May!

  GIRLS.              Spring is green—Fal lal la!
                           Summer's rose—Fal lal la!
  QUARTET.            It is sad when summer goes,
                                          Fa la!
  MEN.                Autumn's gold—Fah lal la!
                           Winter's grey—Fah lal la!
  QUARTET.            Winter still is far away—
                                          Fa la!

  CHORUS.        Leaves in autumn fade and fall,
                 Winter is the end of all.
                 Spring and summer teem with glee:
                 Spring and summer, then, for me!
                                          Fa la!

  HANNAH.        In the spring-time seed is sown:
                 In the summer grass is mown:
                 In the autumn you may reap:
                 Winter is the time for sleep.

  GIRLS.              Spring is hope—Fal lal la!
                           Summer's joy—Fal lal la!
  QUARTET.            Spring and summer never cloy.
                                          Fa la!

  MEN.                Autumn,toil—Fal lal la!
                           Winter, rest—Fal lal la!
  QUARTET.            Winter, after all, is best—
                                          Fal la!

  CHORUS.        Spring and summer pleasure you,
                 Autumn, aye, and winter too—
                 Every season has its cheer,
                 Life is lovely all the year!
                                          Fa la!

                                (Gavotte.)

                    (After Gavotte, enter Sir Despard.)

  SIR D.    Hold, bride and bridegroom, ere you wed each other,
            I claim young Robin as my elder brother!
            His rightful title I have long enjoyed:
            I claim him as Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd!

  CHORUS.   O wonder!
  ROSE (wildly). Deny the falsehood, Robin, as you should,
                           It is a plot!
  ROB.           I would, if conscientiously I could,
                           But I cannot!
  CHORUS.        Ah, base one!  Ah, base one!

                            SOLO—ROBIN.

                 As pure and blameless peasant,
                      I cannot, I regret,
                 Deny a truth unpleasant,
                      I am that Baronet!

  CHORUS.             He is that Baronet!

  ROBIN.         But when completely rated
                      Bad Baronet am I,
                 That I am what he's stated
                      I'll recklessly deny!

  CHORUS.        He'll recklessly deny!

  ROB.      When I'm a bad Bart. I will tell taradiddles!
  CHORUS.        He'll tell taradiddles when he's a bad Bart.
  ROB.      I'll play a bad part on the falsest of fiddles.
  CHORUS.        On very false fiddles he'll play a bad part!
  ROB.      But until that takes place I must be conscientious—
  CHORUS.        He'll be conscientious until that takes place.
  ROB.      Then adieu with good grace to my morals sententious!
  CHORUS.        To morals sententious adieu with good grace!

  ZOR.      Who is the wretch who hath betrayed thee?
                      Let him stand forth!
  RICH.  (coming forward).  'Twas I!
  ALL.      Die, traitor!
  RICH.                    Hold! my conscience made me!
                      Withhold your wrath!

                           SOLO—RICHARD.

            Within this breast there beats a heart
                 Whose voice can't be gainsaid.
            It bade me thy true rank impart,
                 And I at once obeyed.
            I knew 'twould blight thy budding fate—
            I knew 'twould cause thee anguish great—
            But did I therefore hesitate?
                 No! I at once obeyed!
  ALL.      Acclaim him who, when his true heart
            Bade him young Robin's rank impart,
                 Immediately obeyed!

                   SOLO—ROSE (addressing Robin).

                           Farewell!
                      Thou hadst my heart—
                           'Twas quickly won!
                      But now we part—
                           Thy face I shun!
                                Farewell!

                      Go bend the knee
                           At Vice's shrine,
                      Of life with me
                           All hope resign.
                                Farewell!  Farewell!  Farewell!

  (To Sir Despard.)   Take me—I am thy bride!

                              BRIDESMAIDS.

                 Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!
                 When the nuptial knot is tied;
                 Every day will bring some joy
                 That can never, never cloy!

                  (Enter Margaret, who listens.)

  SIR D.         Excuse me, I'm a virtuous person now—
  ROSE.               That's why I wed you!
  SIR D.         And I to Margaret must keep my vow!
  MAR.                Have I misread you?
                 Oh, joy! with newly kindled rapture warmed,
                      I kneel before you! (Kneels.)
  SIR D.         I once disliked you; now that I've reformed,
                      How I adore you!  (They embrace.)

                               BRIDESMAIDS.

                 Hail the Bridegroom-hail the Bride!
                 When the nuptial knot is tied;
                 Every day will bring some joy
                 That can never, never cloy!

  ROSE.          Richard, of him I love bereft,
                           Through thy design,
                 Thou art the only one that's left,
                           So I am thine!  (They embrace.)

                              BRIDESMAIDS.

                 Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!
                 Let the nuptial knot be tied!

                        DUET—ROSE and RICHARD.

                      Oh, happy the lily
                           When kissed by the bee;
                      And, sipping tranquilly,
                           Quite happy is he;
                      And happy the filly
                           That neighs in her pride;
                      But happier than any,
                      A pound to a penny,
                      A lover is, when he
                           Embraces his bride!

                   DUET—SIR DESPARD and MARGARET.

                      Oh, happy the flowers
                           That blossom in June,
                      And happy the bowers
                           That gain by the boon,
                      But happier by hours
                           The man of descent,
                      Who, folly regretting,
                      Is bent on forgetting
                      His bad baronetting,
                           And means to repent!

                    TRIO—HANNAH, ADAM, and ZORAH.

                      Oh, happy the blossom
                           That blooms on the lea,
                      Likewise the opossum
                           That sits on a tree,
                      But when you come across 'em,
                           They cannot compare
                      With those who are treading
                      The dance at a wedding,
                      While people are spreading
                           The best of good fare!

                            SOLO—ROBIN.

                      Oh, wretched the debtor
                           Who's signing a deed!
                      And wretched the letter
                           That no one can read!
                      But very much better
                           Their lot it must be
                      Than that of the person
                      I'm making this verse on,
                      Whose head there's a curse on—
                           Alluding to me!

                     Repeat ensemble with Chorus.

                               (Dance)

  (At the end of the dance Robin falls senseless on the stage.
       Picture.)

                             END OF ACT I





ACT II
  Scene.—Picture Gallery in Ruddigore Castle.  The walls are
       covered with full-length portraits of the Baronets of
       Ruddigore from the time of James I.—the first being that of
       Sir Rupert, alluded to in the legend; the last, that of the
       last deceased Baronet, Sir Roderic.

  Enter Robin and Adam melodramatically.  They are greatly altered
       in appearance, Robin wearing the haggard aspect of a guilty
       roue; Adam, that of the wicked steward to such a man.

                         DUET—ROBIN and ADAM.

  ROB.           I once was as meek as a new-born lamb,
                      I'm now Sir Murgatroyd—ha! ha!
                           With greater precision
                           (Without the elision),
                      Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd—ha! ha!

  ADAM.          And I, who was once his valley-de-sham,
                      As steward I'm now employed—ha! ha!
                           The dickens may take him—
                           I'll never forsake him!
                      As steward I'm now employed—ha! ha!

                            ADDITIONAL SONG
                     (Omitted after opening night.)

  ROB.      My face is the index to my mind,
            All venom and spleen and gall—ha! ha!
            Or, properly speaking,
            It soon will be reeking,
            With venom and spleen and gall—ha! ha!

  ADAM.     My name from Adam Goodheart you'll find
            I've changed to Gideon Crawle—ha! ha!
            For bad Bart's steward
            Whose heart is much too hard
            Is always Gideon Crawle—ha! ha!

  BOTH.     How dreadful when an innocent heart
            Becomes, perforce, a bad young Bart.,
            And still more hard on old Adam,
            His former faithful valley-de-sham!

  ROB.      This is a painful state of things, old Adam!

       ADAM.  Painful, indeed!  Ah, my poor master, when I swore
  that, come what would, I would serve you in all things for ever,
  I little thought to what a pass it would bring me!  The
  confidential adviser to the greatest villain unhung!  Now, sir,
  to business.  What crime do you propose to commit to-day?
       ROB.  How should I know?  As my confidential adviser, it's
  your duty to suggest something.
       ADAM.  Sir, I loathe the life you are leading, but a good
  old man's oath is paramount, and I obey.  Richard Dauntless is
  here with pretty Rose Maybud, to ask your consent to their
  marriage.  Poison their beer.
       ROB.  No—not that—I know I'm a bad Bart., but I'm not as
  bad a Bart. as all that.
       ADAM.  Well, there you are, you see!  It's no use my making
  suggestions if you don't adopt them.
       ROB.  (melodramatically).  How would it be, do you think,
  were I to lure him here with cunning wile—bind him with good
  stout rope to yonder post—and then, by making hideous faces at
  him, curdle the heart-blood in his arteries, and freeze the very
  marrow in his bones?  How say you, Adam, is not the scheme well
  planned?
       ADAM.  It would be simply rude—nothing more.  But
  soft—they come!

  (Adam and Robin retire up as Richard and Rose enter, preceded by
       Chorus of Bridesmaids.)

                        DUET—RICHARD and ROSE.

  RICH.          Happily coupled are we,
                                You see—
                 I am a jolly Jack Tar,
                                My star,
                      And you are the fairest,
                      The richest and rarest
                 Of innocent lasses you are,
                                By far—
                 Of innocent lasses you are!
                 Fanned by a favouring gale,
                                You'll sail
                 Over life's treacherous sea
                                With me,
                      And as for bad weather,
                      We'll brave it together,
                 And you shall creep under my lee,
                                My wee!
                 And you shall creep under my lee!
                 For you are such a smart little craft—
                 Such a neat little, sweet little craft,
                      Such a bright little, tight little,
                      Slight little, light little,
                 Trim little, prim little craft!

  CHORUS.        For she is such, etc.

  ROSE.          My hopes will be blighted, I fear,
                                My dear;
                 In a month you'll be going to sea,
                                Quite free,
                      And all of my wishes
                      You'll throw to the fishes
                 As though they were never to be;
                                Poor me!
                 As though they were never to be.
                 And I shall be left all alone
                                To moan,
                 And weep at your cruel deceit,
                                Complete;
                      While you'll be asserting
                      Your freedom by flirting
                 With every woman you meet,
                                You cheat—Ah!
                 With every woman you meet! Ah!

                 Though I am such a smart little craft—
                 Such a neat little, sweet little craft,
                      Such a bright little, tight little,
                      Slight little, light little,
                 Trim little, prim little craft!

  CHORUS.        Though she is such, etc.

                             (Enter Robin.)

       ROB.  Soho! pretty one—in my power at last, eh?  Know ye
  not that I have those within my call who, at my lightest bidding,
  would immure ye in an uncomfortable dungeon?  (Calling.)  What
  ho! within there!
       RICH.  Hold—we are prepared for this (producing a Union
  Jack).  Here is a flag that none dare defy (all kneel), and while
  this glorious rag floats over Rose Maybud's head, the man does
  not live who would dare to lay unlicensed hand upon her!
       ROB.  Foiled—and by a Union Jack!  But a time will come,
  and then—-
       ROSE.  Nay, let me plead with him.  (To Robin.)  Sir Ruthven,
  have pity.  In my book of etiquette the case of a maiden about to
  be wedded to one who unexpectedly turns out to be a baronet with
  a curse on him is not considered.  Time was when you loved me
  madly.  Prove that this was no selfish love by according your
  consent to my marriage with one who, if he be not you yourself,
  is the next best thing—your dearest friend!

                            BALLAD—ROSE.

                 In bygone days I had thy love—
                      Thou hadst my heart.
                 But Fate, all human vows above,
                      Our lives did part!
                 By the old love thou hadst for me—
                 By the fond heart that beat for thee—
                 By joys that never now can be,
                      Grant thou my prayer!

  ALL (kneeling).          Grant thou her prayer!

  ROB.  (recitative).      Take her—I yield!

  ALL. (recitative).            Oh, rapture!  (All rising.)

  CHORUS.        Away to the parson we go—
                      Say we're solicitous very
                 That he will turn two into one—
                      Singing hey, derry down derry!

  RICH.          For she is such a smart little craft-
  ROSE.          Such a neat little, sweet little craft—
  RICH.               Such a bright little-
  ROSE.                    Tight little-
  RICH.                    Slight little-
  ROSE.                    Light little-
  BOTH.               Trim little, prim little craft!

  CHORUS.        For she is such a smart little craft, etc.

                                            (Exeunt all but Robin.)

       ROB.  For a week I have fulfilled my accursed doom!  I have
  duly committed a crime a day!  Not a great crime, I trust, but
  still, in the eyes of one as strictly regulated as I used to be,
  a crime.  But will my ghostly ancestors be satisfied with what I
  have done, or will they regard it as an unworthy subterfuge?
  (Addressing Pictures.)  Oh, my forefathers, wallowers in blood,
  there came at last a day when, sick of crime, you, each and
  every, vowed to sin no more, and so, in agony, called welcome
  Death to free you from your cloying guiltiness.  Let the sweet
  psalm of that repentant hour soften your long-dead hearts, and
  tune your souls to mercy on your poor posterity!  (Kneeling).

  (The stage darkens for a moment.  It becomes light again, and the
       Pictures are seen to have become animated.)

                        CHORUS OF FAMILY PORTRAITS.

                 Painted emblems of a race,
                      All accurst in days of yore,
                 Each from his accustomed place
                      Steps into the world once more.

  (The Pictures step from their frames and march round the stage.)

                 Baronet of Ruddigore,
                      Last of our accursed line,
                 Down upon the oaken floor—
                      Down upon those knees of thine.

                      Coward, poltroon, shaker, squeamer,
                      Blockhead, sluggard, dullard, dreamer,
                      Shirker, shuffler, crawler, creeper,
                      Sniffler, snuffler, wailer, weeper,
                      Earthworm, maggot, tadpole, weevil!
                      Set upon thy course of evil,
                      Lest the King of Spectre-land
                      Set on thee his grisly hand!

        (The Spectre of Sir Roderic descends from his frame.)

  SIR ROD.       Beware! beware! beware!
  ROB.                Gaunt vision, who art thou
                 That thus, with icy glare
                      And stern relentless brow,
                      Appearest, who knows how?

  SIR ROD.       I am the spectre of the late
                      Sir Roderic Murgatroyd,
                 Who comes to warn thee that thy fate
                      Thou canst not now avoid.

  ROB.           Alas, poor ghost!

  SIR ROD.                      The pity you
                      Express for nothing goes:
                 We spectres are a jollier crew
                      Than you, perhaps, suppose!

  CHORUS.        We spectres are a jollier crew
                      Than you, perhaps, suppose!

                            SONG—SIR RODERIC.

  When the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and the bat in
       the moonlight flies,
  And inky clouds, like funeral shrouds, sail over the midnight
       skies—
  When the footpads quail at the night-bird's wail, and black dogs
       bay at the moon,
  Then is the spectres' holiday—then is the ghosts' high-noon!

  CHORUS.                  Ha! ha!
                 Then is the ghosts' high-noon!

  As the sob of the breeze sweeps over the trees, and the mists lie
       low on the fen,
  From grey tomb-stones are gathered the bones that once were women
       and men,
  And away they go, with a mop and a mow, to the revel that ends
       too soon,
  For cockcrow limits our holiday—the dead of the night's
       high-noon!

  CHORUS.                  Ha! ha!
                 The dead of the night's high-noon!

  And then each ghost with his ladye-toast to their churchyard beds
       takes flight,
  With a kiss, perhaps, on her lantern chaps, and a grisly grim
       "good-night";
  Till the welcome knell of the midnight bell rings forth its
       jolliest tune,
  And ushers in our next high holiday—the dead of the night's
       high-noon!

  CHORUS.                  Ha! ha!
                 The dead of the night's high-noon!
                      Ha! ha! ha! ha!

       ROB.  I recognize you now—you are the picture that hangs at
  the end of the gallery.
       SIR ROD.  In a bad light.  I am.
       ROB.  Are you considered a good likeness?
       SIR ROD.  Pretty well.  Flattering.
       ROB.  Because as a work of art you are poor.
       SIR ROD.  I am crude in colour, but I have only been painted
  ten years.  In a couple of centuries I shall be an Old Master,
  and then you will be sorry you spoke lightly of me.
       ROB.  And may I ask why you have left your frames?
       SIR ROD.  It is our duty to see that our successors commit
  their daily crimes in a conscientious and workmanlike fashion.
  It is our duty to remind you that you are evading the conditions
  under which you are permitted to exist.
       ROB.  Really, I don't know what you'd have.  I've only been
  a bad baronet a week, and I've committed a crime punctually every
  day.
       SIR ROD.  Let us inquire into this.  Monday?
       ROB.  Monday was a Bank Holiday.
       SIR ROD.  True.  Tuesday?
       ROB.  On Tuesday I made a false income-tax return.
       ALL.  Ha! ha!
       1ST GHOST.  That's nothing.
       2ND GHOST.  Nothing at all.
       3RD GHOST.  Everybody does that.
       4TH GHOST.  It's expected of you.
       SIR ROD.  Wednesday?
       ROB.  (melodramatically).  On Wednesday I forged a will.
       SIR ROD.  Whose will?
       ROB.  My own.
       SIR ROD.  My good sir, you can't forge your own will!
       ROB.  Can't I, though! I like that!  I did!  Besides, if a
  man can't forge his own will, whose will can he forge?
       1ST GHOST.  There's something in that.
       2ND GHOST.  Yes, it seems reasonable.
       3RD GHOST.  At first sight it does.
       4TH GHOST.  Fallacy somewhere, I fancy!
       ROB.  A man can do what he likes with his own!
       SIR ROD.  I suppose he can.
       ROB.  Well, then, he can forge his own will, stoopid!  On
  Thursday I shot a fox.
       1ST GHOST.  Hear, hear!
       SIR ROD.  That's better (addressing Ghosts).  Pass the fox,
  I think?  (They assent.)  Yes, pass the fox.  Friday?
       ROB.  On Friday I forged a cheque.
       SIR ROD.  Whose cheque?
       ROB.  Old Adam's.
       SIR ROD.  But Old Adam hasn't a banker.
       ROB.  I didn't say I forged his banker—I said I forged his
  cheque.  On Saturday I disinherited my only son.
       SIR ROD.  But you haven't got a son.
       ROB.  No—not yet.  I disinherited him in advance, to save
  time.  You see—by this arrangement—he'll be born ready
  disinherited.
       SIR ROD.  I see.  But I don't think you can do that.
       ROB.  My good sir, if I can't disinherit my own unborn son,
  whose unborn son can I disinherit?
       SIR ROD.  Humph!  These arguments sound very well, but I
  can't help thinking that, if they were reduced to syllogistic
  form, they wouldn't hold water.  Now quite understand us.  We are
  foggy, but we don't permit our fogginess to be presumed upon.
  Unless you undertake to—well, suppose we say, carry off a lady?
  (Addressing Ghosts.)  Those who are in favour of his carrying off
  a lady?  (All hold up their hands except a Bishop.)  Those of the
  contrary opinion?  (Bishop holds up his hands.)  Oh, you're never
  satisfied!  Yes, unless you undertake to carry off a lady at
  once—I don't care what lady—any lady—choose your lady—you
  perish in inconceivable agonies.
       ROB.  Carry off a lady?  Certainly not, on any account.
  I've the greatest respect for ladies, and I wouldn't do anything
  of the kind for worlds!  No, no.  I'm not that kind of baronet, I
  assure you!  If that's all you've got to say, you'd better go
  back to your frames.
       SIR ROD.  Very good—then let the agonies commence.

         (Ghosts make passes.  Robin begins to writhe in agony.)

       ROB.  Oh! Oh!  Don't do that!  I can't stand it!
       SIR ROD.  Painful, isn't it?  It gets worse by degrees.
       ROB.  Oh—Oh!  Stop a bit!  Stop it, will you?  I want to
  speak.

     (Sir Roderic makes signs to Ghosts, who resume their attitudes.)

       SIR ROD.  Better?
       ROB.  Yes—better now!  Whew!
       SIR ROD.  Well, do you consent?
       ROB.  But it's such an ungentlemanly thing to do!
       SIR ROD.  As you please.  (To Ghosts.)  Carry on!
       ROB.  Stop—I can't stand it!  I agree!  I promise!  It
  shall be done!
       SIR ROD.  To-day?
       ROB.  To-day!
       SIR ROD.  At once?
       ROB.  At once!  I retract!  I apologize!  I had no idea it
  was anything like that!

                                CHORUS.

                 He yields!  He answers to our call!
                      We do not ask for more.
                 A sturdy fellow, after all,
                      This latest Ruddigore!
                 All perish in unheard-of woe
                      Who dare our wills defy;
                 We want your pardon, ere we go,
                 For having agonized you so—
                      So pardon us—
                      So pardon us—
                      So pardon us—
                                     Or die!

  ROB.                I pardon you!
                      I pardon you!

  ALL.                He pardons us-
                                     Hurrah!

                (The Ghosts return to their frames.)

  CHORUS.        Painted emblems of a race,
                      All accurst in days of yore,
                 Each to his accustomed place
                      Steps unwillingly once more!

  (By this time the Ghosts have changed to pictures again.  Robin
       is overcome by emotion.)

                           (Enter Adam.)

       ADAM.  My poor master, you are not well—
       ROB.  Old Adam, it won't do—I've seen 'em—all my
  ancestors—they're just gone.  They say that I must do something
  desperate at once, or perish in horrible agonies.  Go—go to
  yonder village—carry off a maiden—bring her here at once—any
  one—I don't care which—
       ADAM.  But—
       ROB.  Not a word, but obey! Fly!
                                                      (Exeunt Adam)

                        RECIT. and SONG—ROBIN.

  Away, Remorse!
            Compunction, hence!.
  Go, Moral Force!
            Go, Penitence!
  To Virtue's plea
            A long farewell—
  Propriety,
            I ring your knell!
  Come, guiltiness of deadliest hue!
  Come, desperate deeds of derring-do!

  Henceforth all the crimes that I find in the Times.
       I've promised to perpetrate daily;
  To-morrow I start with a petrified heart,
       On a regular course of Old Bailey.
  There's confidence tricking, bad coin, pocket-picking,
       And several other disgraces—
  There's postage-stamp prigging, and then thimble-rigging,
       The three-card delusion at races!
  Oh!  A baronet's rank is exceedingly nice,
  But the title's uncommonly dear at the price!

  Ye well-to-do squires, who live in the shires,
       Where petty distinctions are vital,
  Who found Athenaeums and local museums,
       With a view to a baronet's title—
  Ye butchers and bakers and candlestick makers
       Who sneer at all things that are tradey—
  Whose middle-class lives are embarrassed by wives
       Who long to parade as "My Lady",
  Oh! allow me to offer a word of advice,
  The title's uncommonly dear at the price!

  Ye supple M.P.'s who go down on your knees,
       Your precious identity sinking,
  And vote black or white as your leaders indite
       (Which saves you the trouble of thinking),
  For your country's good fame, her repute, or her shame,
       You don't care the snuff of a candle—
  But you're paid for your game when you're told that your name
       Will be graced by a baronet's handle—
  Oh!  Allow me to give you a word of advice—
  The title's uncommonly dear at the price!
                                                      (Exit Robin.)

  (Enter Despard and Margaret.  They are both dressed in sober black
       of formal cut, and present a strong contrast to their
       appearance in Act I.)

                                 DUET.

  DES.      I once was a very abandoned person—
  MAR.           Making the most of evil chances.
  DES.      Nobody could conceive a worse 'un—
  MAR.           Even in all the old romances.
  DES.           I blush for my wild extravagances,
                      But be so kind
                      To bear in mind,
  MAR.      We were the victims of circumstances!
                                                           (Dance.)
       That is one of our blameless dances.

  MAR.      I was once an exceedingly odd young lady—
  DES.           Suffering much from spleen and vapours.
  MAR.      Clergymen thought my conduct shady—
  DES.           She didn't spend much upon linen-drapers.
  MAR.           It certainly entertained the gapers.
                      My ways were strange
                      Beyond all range—
  DES.           Paragraphs got into all the papers.
                                                           (Dance.)

  DES.           We only cut respectable capers.

  DES.      I've given up all my wild proceedings.
  MAR.           My taste for a wandering life is waning.
  DES.      Now I'm a dab at penny readings.
  MAR.           They are not remarkably entertaining.
  DES.           A moderate livelihood we're gaining.
  MAR.                In fact we rule
                      A National School.
  DES.      The duties are dull, but I'm not complaining.
                                                           (Dance.)

       This sort of thing takes a deal of training!

       DES.  We have been married a week.
       MAR.  One happy, happy week!
       DES.  Our new life—
       MAR.  Is delightful indeed!
       DES.  So calm!
       MAR.  So unimpassioned!  (Wildly).  Master, all this I owe
  to you!  See, I am no longer wild and untidy.  My hair is combed.
  My face is washed.  My boots fit!
       DES.  Margaret, don't.  Pray restrain yourself.  Remember,
  you are now a district visitor.
       MAR.  A gentle district visitor!
       DES.  You are orderly, methodical, neat; you have your
  emotions well under control.
       MAR.  I have!  (Wildly).  Master, when I think of all you
  have done for me, I fall at your feet.  I embrace your ankles.  I
  hug your knees! (Doing so.)
       DES.  Hush.  This is not well.  This is calculated to
  provoke remark.  Be composed, I beg!
       MAR.  Ah! you are angry with poor little Mad Margaret!
       DES.  No, not angry; but a district visitor should learn to
  eschew melodrama.  Visit the poor, by all means, and give them
  tea and barley-water, but don't do it as if you were
  administering a bowl of deadly nightshade.  It upsets them.  Then
  when you nurse sick people, and find them not as well as could be
  expected, why go into hysterics?
       MAR.  Why not?
       DES.  Because it's too jumpy for a sick-room.
       MAR.  How strange!  Oh, Master! Master!—how shall I express
  the all-absorbing gratitude that—(about to throw herself at his
  feet).
       DES.  Now!  (Warningly).
       MAR.  Yes, I know, dear—it shan't occur again.  (He is
  seated—she sits on the ground by him.)  Shall I tell you one of
  poor Mad Margaret's odd thoughts?  Well, then, when I am lying
  awake at night, and the pale moonlight streams through the
  latticed casement, strange fancies crowd upon my poor mad brain,
  and I sometimes think that if we could hit upon some word for you
  to use whenever I am about to relapse—some word that teems with
  hidden meaning—like "Basingstoke"—it might recall me to my
  saner self.  For, after all, I am only Mad Margaret!  Daft Meg!
  Poor Meg!  He! he! he!
       DES.  Poor child, she wanders!  But soft—some one
  comes—Margaret—pray recollect yourself—Basingstoke, I beg!
  Margaret, if you don't Basingstoke at once, I shall be seriously
  angry.
       MAR.  (recovering herself).  Basingstoke it is!
       DES.  Then make it so.

                (Enter Robin.  He starts on seeing them.)

       ROB.  Despard!  And his young wife!  This visit is
  unexpected.
       MAR.  Shall I fly at him?  Shall I tear him limb from limb?
  Shall I rend him asunder?  Say but the word and—
       DES.  Basingstoke!
       MAR.  (suddenly demure).  Basingstoke it is!
       DES.  (aside).  Then make it so.  (Aloud.)  My brother—I
  call you brother still, despite your horrible profligacy—we have
  come to urge you to abandon the evil courses to which you have
  committed yourself, and at any cost to become a pure and
  blameless ratepayer.
       ROB.  But I've done no wrong yet.
       MAR.  (wildly).  No wrong!  He has done no wrong!  Did you
  hear that!
       DES.  Basingstoke!
       MAR.  (recovering herself).  Basingstoke it is!
       DES.  My brother—I still call you brother, you observe—you
  forget that you have been, in the eye of the law, a Bad Baronet
  of Ruddigore for ten years—and you are therefore responsible—in
  the eye of the law—for all the misdeeds committed by the unhappy
  gentleman who occupied your place.
       ROB.  I see!  Bless my heart, I never thought of that!  Was
  I very bad?
       DES.  Awful.  Wasn't he?  (To Margaret).
       ROB.  And I've been going on like this for how long?
       DES.  Ten years!  Think of all the atrocities you have
  committed—by attorney as it were—during that period.  Remember
  how you trifled with this poor child's affections—how you raised
  her hopes on high (don't cry, my love—Basingstoke, you know),
  only to trample them in the dust when they were at the very
  zenith of their fullness.  Oh fie, sir, fie—she trusted you!
       ROB.  Did she?  What a scoundrel I must have been!  There,
  there—don't cry, my dear (to Margaret, who is sobbing on Robin's
  breast), it's all right now.  Birmingham, you know—Birmingham—
       MAR.  (sobbing).  It's Ba—Ba—Basingstoke!
       ROB.  Basingstoke!  Of course it is—Basingstoke.
       MAR.  Then make it so!
       ROB.  There, there—it's all right—he's married you
  now—that is, I've married you (turning to Despard)—I say, which
  of us has married her?
       DES.  Oh, I've married her.
       ROB.  (aside).  Oh, I'm glad of that.  (To Margaret.)  Yes,
  he's married you now (passing her over to Despard), and anything
  more disreputable than my conduct seems to have been I've never
  even heard of.  But my mind is made up—I will defy my ancestors.
  I will refuse to obey their behests, thus, by courting death,
  atone in some degree for the infamy of my career!
       MAR.  I knew it—I knew it—God bless
  you—(Hysterically).
       DES.  Basingstoke!
       MAR.  Basingstoke it is!  (Recovers herself.)

                                 PATTER-TRIO.
                        ROBIN, DESPARD, and MARGARET.

  ROB. My eyes are fully open to my awful situation—
       I shall go at once to Roderic and make him an oration.
       I shall tell him I've recovered my forgotten moral senses,
       And I don't care twopence-halfpenny for any consequences.
       Now I do not want to perish by the sword or by the dagger,
       But a martyr may indulge a little pardonable swagger,
       And a word or two of compliment my vanity would flatter,
       But I've got to die tomorrow, so it really doesn't matter!

  DES.                So it really doesn't matter—

  MAR.                So it really doesn't matter—

  ALL. So it really doesn't matter, matter, matter, matter, matter!

  MAR. If were not a little mad and generally silly
       I should give you my advice upon the subject, willy-nilly;
       I should show you in a moment how to grapple with the
            question,
       And you'd really be astonished at the force of my
            suggestion.
       On the subject I shall write you a most valuable letter,
       Full of excellent suggestions when I feel a little better,
       But at present I'm afraid I am as mad as any hatter,
       So I'll keep 'em to myself, for my opinion doesn't matter!

  DES.                Her opinion doesn't matter—

  ROB.                Her opinion doesn't matter—

  ALL. Her opinion doesn't matter, matter, matter, matter,
            matter!

  DES. If I had been so lucky as to have a steady brother
       Who could talk to me as we are talking now to one another—
       Who could give me good advice when he discovered I was
            erring
       (Which is just the very favour which on you I am
            conferring),
       My story would have made a rather interesting idyll,
       And I might have lived and died a very decent indiwiddle.
       This particularly rapid, unintelligible patter
       Isn't generally heard, and if it is it doesn't matter!

  ROB.                If it is it doesn't matter—

  MAR.                If it is it doesn't matter—

  ALL. If it is it doesn't matter, matter, matter, matter,
            matter!

                                     (Exeunt Despard and Margaret.)

                              (Enter Adam.)

       ADAM (guiltily).  Master—the deed is done!
       ROB.  What deed?
       ADAM.  She is here—alone, unprotected—
       ROB.  Who?
       ADAM.  The maiden.  I've carried her off—I had a hard task,
  for she fought like a tiger-cat!
       ROB.  Great heaven, I had forgotten her!  I had hoped to
  have died unspotted by crime, but I am foiled again—and by a
  tiger-cat!  Produce her—and leave us!

  (Adam introduces Dame Hannah, very much excited, and exits.)

       ROB.  Dame Hannah!  This is—this is not what I expected.
       HAN.  Well, sir, and what would you with me?  Oh, you have
  begun bravely—bravely indeed!  Unappalled by the calm dignity of
  blameless womanhood, your minion has torn me from my spotless
  home, and dragged me, blindfold and shrieking, through hedges,
  over stiles, and across a very difficult country, and left me,
  helpless and trembling, at your mercy!  Yet not helpless, coward
  sir, for approach one step—nay, but the twentieth part of one
  poor inch—and this poniard (produces a very small dagger) shall
  teach ye what it is to lay unholy hands on old Stephen Trusty's
  daughter!
       ROB.  Madam, I am extremely sorry for this.  It is not at
  all what I intended—anything more correct—more deeply
  respectful than my intentions towards you, it would be impossible
  for any one—however particular—to desire.
       HAN.  Bah, I am not to be tricked by smooth words,
  hypocrite!  But be warned in time, for there are, without, a
  hundred gallant hearts whose trusty blades would hack him limb
  from limb who dared to lay unholy hands on old Stephen Trusty's
  daughter!
       ROB.  And this is what it is to embark upon a career of
  unlicensed pleasure!

  (Dame Hannah, who has taken a formidable dagger from one of the
       armed figures, throws her small dagger to Robin.)

       HAN.  Harkye, miscreant, you have secured me, and I am your
  poor prisoner; but if you think I cannot take care of myself you
  are very much mistaken.  Now then, it's one to one, and let the
  best man win!

                           (Making for him.)

       ROB.  (in an agony of terror).  Don't! don't look at me like
  that!  I can't bear it!  Roderic!  Uncle!  Save me!

  (Sir Roderic enters, from his picture.  He comes down the stage.)

       ROD.  What is the matter?  Have you carried her off?
       ROB.  I have—she is there—look at her—she terrifies me!
       ROD.  (looking at Hannah).  Little Nannikin!
       HAN.  (amazed).  Roddy-doddy!
       ROD.  My own old love!  Why, how came you here?
       HAN.  This brute—he carried me off!  Bodily!  But I'll show
  him!  (about to rush at Robin).
       ROD.  Stop!  (To Rob.)  What do you mean by carrying off
  this lady?  Are you aware that once upon a time she was engaged
  to be married to me?  I'm very angry—very angry indeed.
       ROB.  Now I hope this will be a lesson to you in future not
  to—
       ROD.  Hold your tongue, sir.
       ROB.  Yes, uncle.
       ROD.  Have you given him any encouragement?
       HAN.  (to Rob.).  Have I given you any encouragement?
  Frankly now, have I?
       ROB.  No.  Frankly, you have not.  Anything more
  scrupulously correct than your conduct, it would be impossible to
  desire.
       ROD.  You go away.
       ROB.  Yes, uncle.                              (Exit Robin.)
       ROD.  This is a strange meeting after so many years!
       HAN.  Very.  I thought you were dead.
       ROD.  I am.  I died ten years ago.
       HAN.  And are you pretty comfortable?
       ROD.  Pretty well—that is—yes, pretty well.
       HAN.  You don't deserve to be, for I loved you all the
  while, dear; and it made me dreadfully unhappy to hear of all
  your goings-on, you bad, bad boy!

                          BALLAD—DAME HANNAH.

            There grew a little flower
                 'Neath a great oak tree:
            When the tempest 'gan to lower
                 Little heeded she:
            No need had she to cower,
            For she dreaded not its power—
            She was happy in the bower
                 Of her great oak tree!
                      Sing hey,
                      Lackaday!
                 Let the tears fall free
            For the pretty little flower
                 And the great oak tree!

  BOTH.               Sing hey,
                      Lackaday! etc.

            When she found that he was fickle,
                 Was that great oak tree,
            She was in a pretty pickle,
                 As she well might be—
            But his gallantries were mickle,
            For Death followed with his sickle,
            And her tears began to trickle
                 For her great oak tree!
                      Sing hey,
                      Lackaday! etc.

  BOTH.               Sing hey,
                      Lackaday! etc.

            Said she, "He loved me never,
                 Did that great oak tree,
            But I'm neither rich nor clever,
                 And so why should he?
            But though fate our fortunes sever,
            To be constant I'll endeavour,
            Aye, for ever and for ever,
                 To my great oak tree!'
                      Sing hey,
                      Lackaday! etc.

  BOTH.               Sing hey,
                      Lackaday! etc.

                (Falls weeping on Sir Roderic's bosom.)

  (Enter Robin, excitedly, followed by all the characters and Chorus
       of Bridesmaids.)

       ROB.  Stop a bit—both of you.
       ROD.  This intrusion is unmannerly.
       HAN.  I'm surprised at you.
       ROB.  I can't stop to apologize—an idea has just occurred
  to me.  A Baronet of Ruddigore can only die through refusing to
  commit his daily crime.
       ROD.  No doubt.
       ROB.  Therefore, to refuse to commit a daily crime is
  tantamount to suicide!
       ROD.  It would seem so.
       ROB.  But suicide is, itself, a crime—and so, by your own
  showing, you ought never to have died at all!
       ROD.  I see—I understand!  Then I'm practically alive!
       ROB.  Undoubtedly!  (Sir Roderic embraces Dame Hannah.)  Rose,
  when you believed that I was a simple farmer, I believe you loved
  me?
       ROSE.  Madly, passionately!
       ROB.  But when I became a bad baronet, you very properly
  loved Richard instead?
       ROSE.  Passionately, madly!
       ROB.  But if I should turn out not to be a bad baronet after
  all, how would you love me then?
       ROSE.  Madly, passionately!
       ROB.  As before?
       ROSE.  Why, of course.
       ROB.  My darling!  (They embrace.)
       RICH.  Here, I say, belay!
       ROSE.  Oh, sir, belay, if it's absolutely necessary!
       ROB.  Belay?  Certainly not!

                                  FINALE

  ROB.           Having been a wicked baronet a week
                 Once again a modest livelihood I seek.
                      Agricultural employment
                      Is to me a keen enjoyment,
                 For I'm naturally diffident and meek!

  ROSE.          When a man has been a naughty baronet,
                 And expresses deep repentance and regret,
                      You should help him, if you're able,
                      Like the mousie in the fable,
                 That's the teaching of my Book of Etiquette.

  CHORUS.        That's the teaching in her Book of Etiquette.

  RICH.          If you ask me why I do not pipe my eye,
                 Like an honest British sailor, I reply,
                      That with Zorah for my missis,
                      There'll be bread and cheese and kisses,
                 Which is just the sort of ration I enjye!

  CHORUS.             Which is just the sort of ration you enjye!

  DES. and MAR.  Prompted by a keen desire to evoke
                 All the blessed calm of matrimony's yoke,
                      We shall toddle off tomorrow,
                      From this scene of sin and sorrow,
                 For to settle in the town of Basingstoke!

  ALL.                For happy the lily
                           That's kissed by the bee;
                      And, sipping tranquilly,
                           Quite happy is he;
                      And happy the filly
                           That neighs in her pride;
                      But happier than any,
                      A pound to a penny,
                      A lover is, when he
                           Embraces his bride!

                                    CURTAIN





THE SORCERER
  Libretto by William S. Gilbert
  Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, an Elderly Baronet

  Alexis, of the Grenadier Guards—His Son

  Dr. Daly, Vicar of Ploverleigh

  John Wellington Wells, of J. W. Wells & Co., Family Sorcerers

  Lady Sangazure, a Lady of Ancient Lineage

  Aline, Her Daughter—betrothed to Alexis

  Mrs. Partlet, a Pew-Opener

  Constance, her Daughter

  Chorus of Villagers

         ACT I—Grounds of Sir Marmaduke's Mansion, Mid-day

    (Twelve hours are supposed to elapse between Acts I and II)

       ACT II— Grounds of Sir Marmaduke's Mansion, Midnight





ACT I.
  SCENE—Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's Elizabethan Mansion, mid-day.

                        CHORUS OF VILLAGERS

                         Ring forth, ye bells,
                               With clarion sound—
                         Forget your knells,
                               For joys abound.
                         Forget your notes
                               Of mournful lay,
                         And from your throats
                               Pour joy to-day.

        For to-day young Alexis—young Alexis Pointdextre
              Is betrothed to Aline—to Aline Sangazure,
        And that pride of his sex is—of his sex is to be next her
              At the feast on the green—on the green, oh, be sure!

                         Ring forth, ye bells etc.
                                                  (Exeunt the men
  into house.)

  (Enter Mrs. Partlet with Constance, her daughter)

                             RECITATIVE

  MRS. P.     Constance, my daughter, why this strange depression?
              The village rings with seasonable joy,
              Because the young and amiable Alexis,
              Heir to the great Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre,
              Is plighted to Aline, the only daughter
              Of Annabella, Lady Sangazure.
              You, you alone are sad and out of spirits;
              What is the reason?  Speak, my daughter, speak!

  CON.        Oh, mother, do not ask!  If my complexion
              From red to white should change in quick succession,
              And then from white to red, oh, take no notice!
              If my poor limbs should tremble with emotion,
              Pay no attention, mother—it is nothing!
              If long and deep-drawn sighs I chance to utter,
              Oh, heed them not, their cause must ne'er be known!

  Mrs. Partlet motions to Chorus to leave her with Constance.  Exeunt
  ladies of Chorus.

                          ARIA—CONSTANCE

                    When he is here,
                         I sigh with pleasure—
                    When he is gone,
                         I sigh with grief.
                    My hopeless fear
                         No soul can measure—
                    His love alone
                         Can give my aching heart relief!

                    When he is cold,
                         I weep for sorrow—
                    When he is kind,
                         I weep for joy.
                    My grief untold
                         Knows no to-morrow—
                    My woe can find
                         No hope, no solace, no alloy!

  MRS. P.     Come, tell me all about it!  Do not fear—
              I, too, have loved; but that was long ago!
              Who is the object of your young affections?
  CONST.      Hush, mother!  He is here!  (Looking off)

        Enter Dr. Daly.  He is pensive and does not see them

  MRS. P.     (amazed)         Our reverend vicar!
  CONST.      Oh, pity me, my heart is almost broken!
  MRS. P.     My child, be comforted.  To such an union
              I shall not offer any opposition.
              Take him—he's yours!  May you and he be happy!
  CONST.      But, mother dear, he is not yours to give!
  MRS. P.     That's true, indeed!
  CONST.                       He might object!
  MRS. P.                                        He might.
              But come—take heart—I'll probe him on the subject.
              Be comforted—leave this affair to me.
                                                       (They
  withdraw.)

                        RECITATIVE—DR. DALY

        The air is charged with amatory numbers—
              Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays.
        Peace, peace, old heart!  Why waken from its slumbers
              The aching memory of the old, old days?

                               BALLAD

        Time was when Love and I were well acquainted.
              Time was when we walked ever hand in hand.
        A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted,
              None better-loved than I in all the land!
        Time was, when maidens of the noblest station,
              Forsaking even military men,
        Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration—
              Ah me, I was a fair young curate then!

        Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled;
              Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear;
        Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled;
              And when I coughed all thought the end was near!
        I had no care—no jealous doubts hung o'er me—
              For I was loved beyond all other men.
        Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me—
              Ah me, I was a pale young curate them!

  (At the conclusion of the ballad, Mrs. Partlet comes forward with
  Constance.)

        MRS. P.  Good day, reverend sir.
        DR. D.  Ah, good Mrs. Partlet, I am glad to see you.  And
  your little daughter, Constance!  Why, she is quite a little
  woman, I declare!
        CONST. (aside)  Oh, mother, I cannot speak to him!
        MRS. P.  Yes, reverend sir, she is nearly eighteen, and as
  good a girl as ever stepped.  (Aside to Dr. Daly)  Ah, sir, I'm
  afraid I shall soon lose her!
        DR. D. (aside to Mrs. Partlet)  Dear me, you pain me very
  much.  Is she delicate?
        MRS. P.  Oh no, sir—I don't mean that—but young girls look
  to get married.
        DR. D.  Oh, I take you.  To be sure.  But there's plenty of
  time for that.  Four or five years hence, Mrs. Partlet, four or
  five years hence.  But when the time does come, I shall have much
  pleasure in marrying her myself—
        CONST. (aside)  Oh, mother!
        DR. D.  To some strapping young fellow in her own rank of
  life.
        CONST. (in tears)  He does not love me!
        MRS. P.  I have often wondered, reverend sir (if you'll
  excuse the liberty), that you have never married.
        DR. D. (aside)  Be still, my fluttering heart!
        MRS. P.  A clergyman's wife does so much good in a village.
  besides that, you are not as young as you were, and before very
  long you will want somebody to nurse you, and look after your
  little comforts.
        DR. D.  Mrs. Partlet, there is much truth in what you say.
  I am indeed getting on in years, and a helpmate would cheer my
  declining days.  Time was when it might have been; but I have
  left it too long—I am an old fogy, now, am I not, my dear?  (to
  Constance)—a very old fogy, indeed.  Ha! ha!  No, Mrs. Partlet,
  my mind is quite made up.  I shall live and die a solitary old
  bachelor.
        CONST.  Oh, mother, mother!  (Sobs on Mrs. Partlet's bosom)
        MRS. P.  Come, come, dear one, don't fret.  At a more
  fitting time we will try again—we will try again.
                                          (Exeunt Mrs. Partlet and
  Constance.)

       DR. D.  (looking after them)  Poor little girl!  I'm afraid
  she has something on her mind.  She is rather comely.  Time was
  when this old heart would have throbbed in double-time at the
  sight of such a fairy form!  But tush!  I am puling!  Here comes
  the young Alexis with his proud and happy father.  Let me dry
  this tell-tale tear!

                   Enter Sir Marmaduke and Alexis

                             RECITATIVE

  DR. D.      Sir Marmaduke—my dear young friend, Alexis—
              On this most happy, most auspicious plighting—
              Permit me as a true old friend to tender
              My best, my very best congratulations!
  SIR M.      Sir, you are most obleeging!
  ALEX.                                    Dr. Daly
              My dear old tutor, and my valued pastor,
              I thank you from the bottom of my heart!
                                                        (Spoken
  through music)
  DR. D.      May fortune bless you! may the middle distance
              Of your young life be pleasant as the foreground—
              The joyous foreground! and, when you have reached it,
              May that which now is the far-off horizon
              (But which will then become the middle distance),
              In fruitful promise be exceeded only
              By that which will have opened, in the meantime,
              Into a new and glorious horizon!
  SIR M.      Dear Sir, that is an excellent example
              Of an old school of stately compliment
              To which I have, through life, been much addicted.
              Will you obleege me with a copy of it,
              In clerkly manuscript, that I myself
              May use it on appropriate occasions?
  DR. D.      Sir, you shall have a fairly-written copy
              Ere Sol has sunk into his western slumbers!
                                                               (Exit
  Dr. Daly)

        SIR M.  (to Alexis, who is in a reverie)  Come, come, my
  son—your fiancee will be here in five minutes.  Rouse yourself
  to receive her.
        ALEXIS  Oh rapture!
        SIR M.  Yes, you are a fortunate young fellow, and I will
  not disguise from you that this union with the House of Sangazure
  realizes my fondest wishes.  Aline is rich, and she comes of a
  sufficiently old family, for she is the seven thousand and
  thirty-seventh in direct descent from Helen of Troy.  True, there
  was a blot on the escutcheon of that lady—that affair with
  Paris—but where is the family, other than my own, in which there
  is no flaw?  You are a lucky fellow, sir—a very lucky fellow!
        ALEXIS  Father, I am welling over with limpid joy!  No
  sicklying taint of sorrow overlies the lucid lake of liquid love,
  upon which, hand in hand, Aline and I are to float into eternity!
        SIR M.  Alexis, I desire that of your love for this young
  lady you do not speak so openly.  You are always singing ballads
  in praise of her beauty, and you expect the very menials who wait
  behind your chair to chorus your ecstasies.  It is not delicate.
        ALEXIS  Father, a man who loves as I love—
        SIR M.  Pooh pooh, sir! fifty years ago I madly loved your
  future mother-in-law, the Lady Sangazure, and I have reason to
  believe that she returned my love.  But were we guilty of the
  indelicacy of publicly rushing into each other's arms,
  exclaiming—

              "Oh, my adored one!" "Beloved boy!"
              "Ecstatic rapture!" "Unmingled joy!"

  which seems to be the modern fashion of love-making?  No! it was
  "Madam, I trust you are in the enjoyment of good health"—"Sir,
  you are vastly polite, I protest I am mighty well"—and so forth.
  Much more delicate—much more respectful.  But see—Aline
  approaches—let us retire, that she may compose herself for the
  interesting ceremony in which she is to play so important a part.
                                            (Exeunt Sir Marmaduke and
  Alexis.)

       (Enter Aline on terrace, preceded by Chorus of Girls.)

                          CHORUS OF GIRLS

                         With heart and with voice
                               Let us welcome this mating:
                         To the youth of her choice,
                               With a heart palpitating,
                                     Comes the lovely Aline!

                         May their love never cloy!
                               May their bliss me unbounded!
                         With a halo of joy
                               May their lives be surrounded!
                                     Heaven bless our Aline!

                         RECITATIVE—ALINE.

        My kindly friends, I thank you for this greeting
        And as you wish me every earthly joy,
        I trust your wishes may have quick fulfillment!

                            ARIA—ALINE.

                         Oh, happy young heart!
                               Comes thy young lord a-wooing
                         With joy in his eyes,
                               And pride in his breast—
                         Make much of thy prize,
                               For he is the best
                         That ever came a-suing.
                               Yet—yet we must part,
                                                 Young heart!
                               Yet—yet we must part!

                         Oh, merry young heart,
                               Bright are the days of thy wooing!
                         But happier far
                               The days untried—
                         No sorrow can mar,
                               When love has tied
                         The knot there's no undoing.
                               Then, never to part,
                                                 Young heart!
                               Then, never to part!

                        Enter Lady Sangazure

                        RECITATIVE—LADY S.

              My child, I join in these congratulations:
              Heed not the tear that dims this aged eye!
              Old memories crowd upon me.  Though I sorrow,
              'Tis for myself, Aline, and not for thee!

              Enter Alexis, preceded by Chorus of Men

                      CHORUS OF MEN AND WOMEN

                    With heart and with voice
                         Let us welcome this mating;
                    To the maid of his choice,
                         With a heart palpitating,
                               Comes Alexis, the brave!.

  (Sir Marmaduke enters.  Lady Sangazure and he exhibit signs of
  strong
  emotion at the sight of each other which they endeavor to
  repress.  Alexis and Aline rush into each other's arms.)

                             RECITATIVE

  ALEXIS      Oh, my adored one!

  ALINE                  Beloved boy!

  ALEXIS      Ecstatic rapture!

  ALINE                  Unmingled joy!
                                                             (They
  retire up.)

               DUET—SIR MARMADUKE and LADY SANGAZURE

  SIR M.  (with stately courtesy)
              Welcome joy, adieu to sadness!
                    As Aurora gilds the day,
              So those eyes, twin orbs of gladness,
                    Chase the clouds of care away.
              Irresistible incentive
                    Bids me humbly kiss your hand;
              I'm your service most attentive—
                    Most attentive to command!

  (Aside with frantic vehemence)
              Wild with adoration!
              Mad with fascination!
              To indulge my lamentation
                    No occasion do I miss!
              Goaded to distraction
              By maddening inaction,
              I find some satisfaction
                    In apostophe like this:
                    "Sangazure immortal,
                         "Sangazure divine,
                    "Welcome to my portal,
                         "Angel, oh be mine!"

  (Aloud with much ceremony)
              Irresistible incentive
                    Bids me humbly kiss your hand;
              I'm your servant most attentive—
                    Most attentive to command!

  LADY S.     Sir, I thank you most politely
                    For your grateful courtesee;
              Compliment more true and knightly
                    Never yet was paid to me!
              Chivalry is an ingredient
                    Sadly lacking in our land—
              Sir, I am your most obedient,
                    Most obedient to command!

  (Aside and with great vehemence)
              Wild with adoration!
              Mad with fascination!
              To indulge my lamentation
                    No occasion do I miss!
              Goaded to distraction
              By maddening inaction,
              I find some satisfaction
                    In apostophe like this:
                    "Marmaduke immortal,
                         "Marmaduke divine,
                    "Take me to thy portal,
                         "Loved one, oh be mine!"

  (Aloud with much ceremony)
              Chivalry is an ingredient
                    Sadly lacking in our land;
              Sir, I am your most obedient,
                    Most obedient to command!

   (During this the Notary has entered, with marriage contract.)

                         RECITATIVE—NOTARY

        All is prepared for sealing and for signing,
              The contract has been drafted as agreed;
        Approach the table, oh, ye lovers pining,
              With hand and seal come execute the deed!

  (Alexis and Aline advance and sign, Alexis supported by Sir
  Marmaduke,
  Aline by her Mother.)

                               CHORUS

              See they sign, without a quiver, it—
                    Then to seal proceed.
              They deliver it—they deliver it
                    As their Act and Deed!
  ALEX.                  I deliver it—I deliver it
                               As my Act and Deed!.
  ALINE.                 I deliver it—I deliver it.
                               As my Act and Deed!

  CHO.        With heart and with voice
                    Let us welcome this mating;
              Leave them here to rejoice,
                    With true love palpitating,
                         Alexis the brave,
                         And the lovely Aline!
                                            (Exeunt all but Alexis
  and Aline.)

        ALEXIS  At last we are alone!  My darling, you are now
  irrevocably betrothed to me.  Are you not very, very happy?
        ALINE  Oh, Alexis, can you doubt it?  Do I not love you
  beyond all on earth, and am I not beloved in return?  Is not true
  love, faithfully given and faithfully returned, the source of
  every earthly joy?
        ALEXIS  Of that there can be no doubt.  Oh, that the world
  could be persuaded of the truth of that maxim!  Oh, that the
  world would break down the artificial barriers of rank, wealth,
  education, age, beauty, habits, taste, and temper, and recognize
  the glorious principle, that in marriage alone is to be found the
  panacea for every ill!
        ALINE  Continue to preach that sweet doctrine, and you will
  succeed, oh, evangel of true happiness!
        ALEXIS  I hope so, but as yet the cause progresses but
  slowly.  Still I have made some converts to the principle, that
  men and women should be coupled in matrimony without distinction
  of rank.  I have lectured on the subject at Mechanics'
  Institutes, and the mechanics were unanimous in favour of my
  views.  I have preached in workhouses, beershops, and Lunatic
  Asylums, and I have been received with enthusiasm.  I have
  addressed navvies on the advantages that would accrue to them if
  they married wealthy ladies of rank, and not a navvy dissented!
        ALINE  Noble fellows!  And yet there are those who hold that
  the uneducated classes are not open to argument!  And what do the
  countesses say?
        ALEXIS  Why, at present, it can't be denied, the aristocracy
  hold aloof.
        ALINE  Ah, the working man is the true Intelligence after
  all!
        ALEXIS  He is a noble creature when he is quite sober.  Yes,
  Aline, true happiness comes of true love, and true love should be
  independent of external influences.  It should live upon itself
  and by itself—in itself love should live for love alone!

                           BALLAD—ALEXIS

              Love feeds on many kinds of food, I know,
                    Some love for rank, some for duty:
              Some give their hearts away for empty show,
                    And others for youth and beauty.
              To love for money all the world is prone:
                    Some love themselves, and live all lonely:
              Give me the love that loves for love alone—
                    I love that love—I love it only!

              What man for any other joy can thirst,
                    Whose loving wife adores him duly?
              Want, misery, and care may do their worst,
                    If loving woman loves you truly.
              A lover's thoughts are ever with his own—
                    None truly loved is ever lonely:
              Give me the love that loves for love alone—
                    I love that love—I love it only!

        ALINE  Oh, Alexis, those are noble principles!
        ALEXIS  Yes, Aline, and I am going to take a desperate step
  in support of them.  Have you ever heard of the firm of J. W.
  Wells & Co., the old-established Family Sorcerers in St. Mary
  Axe?
        ALINE  I have seen their advertisement.
        ALEXIS  They have invented a philtre, which, if report may
  be believed, is simply infallible.  I intend to distribute it
  through the village, and within half an hour of my doing so there
  will not be an adult in the place who will not have learnt the
  secret of pure and lasting happiness.  What do you say to that?
        ALINE  Well, dear, of course a filter is a very useful thing
  in a house; but still I don't quite see that it is the sort of
  thing that places its possessor on the very pinnacle of earthly
  joy.
        ALEXIS  Aline, you misunderstand me.  I didn't say a
  filter—I said a philtre.
        ALINE (alarmed)  You don't mean a love-potion?
        ALEXIS  On the contrary—I do mean a love potion.
        ALINE  Oh, Alexis!  I don't think it would be right.  I
  don't indeed.  And then—a real magician!  Oh, it would be
  downright wicked.
        ALEXIS  Aline, is it, or is it not, a laudable object to
  steep the whole village up to its lips in love, and to couple
  them in matrimony without distinction of age, rank, or fortune?
        ALINE  Unquestionably, but—
        ALEXIS  Then unpleasant as it must be to have recourse to
  supernatural aid, I must nevertheless pocket my aversion, in
  deference to the great and good end I have in view.  (Calling)
  Hercules.

                      (Enter a Page from tent)

        PAGE  Yes, sir.
        ALEXIS  Is Mr. Wells there?
        PAGE  He's in the tent, sir—refreshing.
        ALEXIS  Ask him to be so good as to step this way.
        PAGE  Yes, sir.
  (Exit Page)
        ALINE  Oh, but, Alexis!  A real Sorcerer!  Oh, I shall be
  frightened to death!
        ALEXIS  I trust my Aline will not yield to fear while the
  strong right arm of her Alexis is here to protect her.
        ALINE  It's nonsense, dear, to talk of your protecting me
  with your strong right arm, in face of the fact that this Family
  Sorcerer could change me into a guinea-pig before you could turn
  round.
        ALEXIS  He could change you into a guinea-pig, no doubt, but
  it is most unlikely that he would take such a liberty.  It's a
  most respectable firm, and I am sure he would never be guilty of
  so untradesmanlike an act.

                    (Enter Mr. Wells from tent)

        WELLS  Good day, sir.  (Aline much terrified.)
        ALEXIS  Good day—I believe you are a Sorcerer.
        WELLS  Yes, sir, we practice Necromancy in all its branches.
  We've a choice assortment of wishing-caps, divining-rods,
  amulets, charms, and counter-charms.  We can cast you a nativity
  at a low figure, and we have a horoscope at three-and-six that we
  can guarantee.  Our Abudah chests, each containing a patent Hag
  who comes out and prophesies disasters, with spring complete, are
  strongly recommended.  Our Aladdin lamps are very chaste, and our
  Prophetic Tablets, foretelling everything—from a change of
  Ministry down to a rise in Unified—are much enquired for.  Our
  penny Curse—one of the cheapest things in the trade—is
  considered infallible.  We have some very superior Blessings,
  too, but they're very little asked for.  We've only sold one
  since Christmas—to a gentleman who bought it to send to his
  mother-in-law—but it turned out that he was afflicted in the
  head, and it's been returned on our hands.  But our sale of penny
  Curses, especially on Saturday nights, is tremendous.  We can't
  turn 'em out fast enough.

                          SONG—MR. WELLS

              Oh! my name is John Wellington Wells,
              I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
                    In blessings and curses
                    And ever-filled purses,
              In prophecies, witches, and knells.
              If you want a proud foe to "make tracks"—
              If you'd melt a rich uncle in wax—
                    You've but to look in
                    On the resident Djinn,
              Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

              We've a first-class assortment of magic;
                    And for raising a posthumous shade
              With effects that are comic or tragic,
                    There's no cheaper house in the trade.
              Love-philtre—we've quantities of it;
                    And for knowledge if any one burns,
              We keep an extremely small prophet, a prophet
                    Who brings us unbounded returns:

                    For he can prophesy
                    With a wink of his eye,
                    Peep with security
                    Into futurity,
                    Sum up your history,
                    Clear up a mystery,
                    Humour proclivity
                    For a nativity—for a nativity;
                    With mirrors so magical,
                    Tetrapods tragical,
                    Bogies spectacular,
                    Answers oracular,
                    Facts astronomical,
                    Solemn or comical,
                    And, if you want it, he
                    Makes a reduction on taking a quantity!
                               Oh!

                    If any one anything lacks,
                    He'll find it all ready in stacks,
                         If he'll only look in
                         On the resident Djinn,
                    Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

                    He can raise you hosts
                                           Of ghosts,
                    And that without reflectors;
                         And creepy things
                                           With wings,
                    And gaunt and grisly spectres.
                    He can fill you crowds
                                           Of shrouds,
                    And horrify you vastly;
                         He can rack your brains
                                           With chains,
                    And gibberings grim and ghastly.

                         And then, if you plan it, he
                         Changes organity,
                         With an urbanity,
                         Full of Satanity,
                         Vexes humanity
                         With an inanity
                         Fatal to vanity—
                    Driving your foes to the verge of insanity!

                         Barring tautology,
                         In demonology,
                         'Lectro-biology,
                         Mystic nosology,
                         Spirit philology,
                         High-class astrology,
                         Such is his knowledge, he
                    Isn't the man to require an apology!

                                           Oh!
              My name is John Wellington Wells,
              I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
                    In blessings and curses
                    And ever-filled purses,
              In prophecies, witches, and knells.

              If any one anything lacks,
              He'll find it all ready in stacks,
                    If he'll only look in
                    On the resident Djinn,
              Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

        ALEXIS  I have sent for you to consult you on a very
  important matter.  I believe you advertise a Patent Oxy-Hydrogen
  Love-at-first-sight Philtre?
        WELLS  Sir, it is our leading article.  (Producing a phial.)
        ALEXIS  Now I want to know if you can confidently guarantee
  it as possessing all the qualities you claim for it in your
  advertisement?
        WELLS  Sir, we are not in the habit of puffing our goods.
  Ours is an old-established house with a large family connection,
  and every assurance held out in the advertisement is fully
  realized.  (Hurt)
        ALINE  (aside)  Oh, Alexis, don't offend him!  He'll change
  us into something dreadful—I know he will!
        ALEXIS  I am anxious from purely philanthropical motives to
  distribute this philtre, secretly, among the inhabitants of this
  village.  I shall of course require a quantity.  How do you sell
  it?
        WELLS  In buying a quantity, sir, we should strongly advise
  your taking it in the wood, and drawing it off as you happen to
  want it.  We have it in four-and-a-half and nine gallon
  casks—also in pipes and hogsheads for laying down, and we deduct
  10 per cent from prompt cash.
        ALEXIS  I should mention that I am a Member of the Army and

  Navy Stores.
        WELLS  In that case we deduct 25 percent.
        ALEXIS  Aline, the villagers will assemble to carouse in a
  few minutes.  Go and fetch the tea-pot.
        ALINE  But, Alexis—
        ALEXIS  My dear, you must obey me, if you please.  Go and
  fetch the teapot.
        ALINE  (going)  I'm sure Dr. Daly would disapprove of it!

  (Exit Aline.)
        ALEXIS  And how soon does it take effect?
        WELLS  In twelve hours.  Whoever drinks of it loses
  consciousness for that period, and on waking falls in love, as a
  matter of course, with the first lady he meets who has also
  tasted it, and his affection is at once returned.  One trial will
  prove the fact.
                   Enter Aline with large tea-pot

        ALEXIS  Good: then, Mr. Wells, I shall feel obliged if you
  will at once pour as much philtre into this teapot as will
  suffice to affect the whole village.
        ALINE  But bless me, Alexis, many of the villages are
  married people!
        WELLS  Madam, this philtre is compounded on the strictest
  principles.  On married people it has no effect whatever.  But
  are you quite sure that you have nerve enough to carry you
  through the fearful ordeal?
        ALEXIS  In the good cause I fear nothing.
        WELLS  Very good, then, we will proceed at once to the
  Incantation.
                       The stage grows dark.

                            INCANTATION

  WELLS.            Sprites of earth and air—
                         Fiends of flame and fire—
                               Demon souls,
                               Come here in shoals,
                    This dreaded deed inspire!
                         Appear, appear, appear.

  MALE VOICES.           Good master, we are here!

  WELLS.            Noisome hags of night—
                         Imps of deadly shade—
                               Pallid ghosts,
                               Arise in hosts,
                    And lend me all your aid.
                         Appear, appear, appear!

  FEMALE VOICES.         Good master, we are here!

  ALEXIS. (aside)        Hark, they assemble,
                               These fiends of the night!
  ALINE.  (aside)        Oh Alexis, I tremble,
                               Seek safety in flight!
                            ARIA - ALINE

                    Let us fly to a far-off land,
                         Where peace and plenty dwell—
                    Where the sigh of the silver strand
                         Is echoed in every shell
                    To the joy that land will give,
                         On the wings of Love we'll fly;
                    In innocence, there to live—
                         In innocence there to die!

                         CHORUS OF SPIRITS.

                         Too late—too late
                               It may not be!
                         That happy fate
                               Is not for (me/thee)!

                     ALEXIS, ALINE, and MR. W.

                         Too late—too late,
                               That may not be!
                         That happy fate,
                               Is not for thee!

                                    MR. WELLS

              Now shrivelled hags, with poison bags,
                    Discharge your loathsome loads!
              Spit flame and fire, unholy choir!
                    Belch forth your venom, toads!
              Ye demons fell, with yelp and yell,
                    Shed curses far afield—
              Ye fiends of night, your filthy blight
                    In noisome plenty yield!

  WELLS  (pouring phial into tea-pot—flash)
                               Number One!
  CHORUS                             It is done!
  WELLS  (same business)       Number Two! (flash)
  CHORUS                             One too few!
  WELLS                        Number Three! (flash)
  CHORUS                             Set us free!
                               Set us free-our work is done
                                     Ha! ha! ha!
                               Set us free—our course is run!
                                     Ha! ha! ha!

                      ALINE AND ALEXIS (aside)

                    Let us fly to a far-off land,
                         Where peace and plenty dwell—
                    Where the sigh of the silver strand
                         Is echoed in every shell.
                         CHORUS OF FIENDS.

                    Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

  (Stage grows light.  Mr. Wells beckons villagers.  Enter villagers
  and all the dramatis personae, dancing joyously.  Mrs. Partlet and
  Mr. Wells then distribute tea-cups.)

                              CHORUS.

                    Now to the banquet we press;
                         Now for the eggs, the ham;
                    Now for the mustard and cress,
                         Now for the strawberry jam!

                    Now for the tea of our host,
                         Now for the rollicking bun,
                    Now for the muffin and toast,
                         Now for the gay Sally Lunn!

  WOMEN.      The eggs and the ham, and the strawberry jam!

  MEN.        The rollicking bun, and the gay Sally Lunn!
                    The rollicking, rollicking bun!

                     RECITATIVE—SIR MARMADUKE

              Be happy all—the feast is spread before ye;
                    Fear nothing, but enjoy yourselves, I pray!
              Eat, aye, and drink—be merry, I implore ye,
                    For once let thoughtless Folly rule the day.

                          TEA-CUP BRINDISI

                    Eat, drink, and be gay,
                         Banish all worry and sorrow,
                    Laugh gaily to-day,
                         Weep, if you're sorry, to-morrow!
                    Come, pass the cup around—
                         I will go bail for the liquor;
                    It's strong, I'll be bound,
                         For it was brewed by the vicar!

                              CHORUS.

                         None so knowing as he
                         At brewing a jorum of tea,
                               Ha! ha!
                         A pretty stiff jorum of tea.

              TRIO—WELLS, ALINE, and ALEXIS. (aside)

                         See—see—they drink—
                               All thoughts unheeding,
                         The tea-cups clink,
                               They are exceeding!
                         Their hearts will melt
                               In half-an-hour—
                         Then will be felt
                               The potions power!

  (During this verse Constance has brought a small tea-pot, kettle,
  caddy, and cosy to Dr. Daly.  He makes tea scientifically.)

          BRINDISI, 2nd Verse—DR. DALY (with the tea-pot)

                    Pain, trouble, and care,
                         Misery, heart-ache, and worry,
                    Quick, out of your lair!
                         Get you gone in a hurry!
                    Toil, sorrow, and plot,
                         Fly away quicker and quicker—
                    Three spoons in the pot—
                         That is the brew of your vicar!

                                     CHORUS

                    None so cunning as he
                    At brewing a jorum of tea,
                         Ha! ha!
                    A pretty stiff jorum of tea!

                 ENSEMBLE—ALEXIS and ALINE (aside)

              Oh love, true love—unworldly, abiding!
                    Source of all pleasure—true fountain of joy,—
              Oh love, true love—divinely confiding,
                    Exquisite treasure that knows no alloy,—
              Oh love, true love, rich harvest of gladness,
                    Peace-bearing tillage—great garner of bliss,—
              Oh love, true love, look down on our sadness —
                    Dwell in this village—oh, hear us in this!

  (It becomes evident by the strange conduct of the characters that
  the charm is working.  All rub their eyes, and stagger about the
  stage as if under the influence of a narcotic.)

        TUTTI (aside)                   ALEXIS, MR. WELLS and ALINE

  Oh, marvellous illusion!           A marvellous illusion!
        Oh, terrible surprise!             A terrible surprise
  What is this strange confusion     Excites a strange confusion
        That veils my aching eyes?         Within their aching eyes—
  I must regain my senses,           They must regain their senses,
        Restoring Reason's law,            Restoring Reason's law,
  Or fearful inferences              Or fearful inferences
        Society will draw!                       Society will draw!

  (Those who have partaken of the philtre struggle in vain against
  its effects, and, at the end of the chorus, fall insensible on
  the stage.)

                            END OF ACT I





ACT II
  Scene—Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's mansion by moonlight.  All the
  peasantry are discovered asleep on the ground, as at the end of
  Act I.

  Enter Mr. Wells, on tiptoe, followed by Alexis and Aline. Mr. Wells
  carries a dark lantern.

                 TRIO—ALEXIS, ALINE, and MR. WELLS

                    'Tis twelve, I think,
                         And at this mystic hour
                    The magic drink
                         Should manifest its power.
                    Oh, slumbering forms,
                         How little ye have guessed
                    That fire that warms
                         Each apathetic breast!

  ALEX.             But stay, my father is not here!

  ALINE.            And pray where is my mother dear?

  MR. WELLS.        I did not think it meet to see
                    A dame of lengthy pedigree,
                    A Baronet and K.C.B.
                    A Doctor of Divinity,
                    And that respectable Q.C.,
                    All fast asleep, al-fresco-ly,
                    And so I had them taken home
                    And put to bed respectably!
                    I trust my conduct meets your approbation.

  ALEX.             Sir, you have acted with discrimination,
                    And shown more delicate appreciation
                    Than we expect of persons of your station.

  MR. WELLS.        But stay—they waken one by one —
                    The spell has worked—the deed is done!
                    I would suggest that we retire
                    While Love, the Housemaid, lights her kitchen
                         fire!

  (Exeunt Mr. Wells, Alexis and Aline, on tiptoe, as the villagers
  stretch their arms, yawn, rub their eyes, and sit up.)

  MEN.        Why, where be oi, and what be oi a doin',
                    A sleepin' out, just when the dews du rise?
  GIRLS.      Why, that's the very way your health to ruin,
                    And don't seem quite respectable likewise!
  MEN. (staring at girls)      Eh, that's you!
                                     Only think o' that now!
  GIRLS. (coyly)               What may you be at, now?
                                     Tell me, du!
  MEN. (admiringly)            Eh, what a nose,
                                     And eh, what eyes, miss!
                               Lips like a rose,
                                     And cheeks likewise, miss!
  GIRLS. (coyly)               Oi tell you true,
                                     Which I've never done, sir,
                               Oi loike you
                                     As I never loiked none, sir!
  ALL.                         Eh, but oi du loike you!
  MEN.                         If you'll marry me, I'll dig for you
  and
                                   rake for you!
  GIRLS.                       If you'll marry be, I'll scrub for you
                                   and bake for you!
  MEN.                         If you'll marry me, all others I'll
                                   forsake for you!
  ALL.                               All this will I du, if you marry
                                   me!
  GIRLS.                       If you'll marry me, I'll cook for you
                                   and brew for you!
  MEN.                         If you'll marry me, I've guineas not
  a
                                   few for you!
  GIRLS.                       If you'll marry me, I'll take you in
  and
                                   du for you!
  ALL.                         All this will I du, if you'll marry
  me!
                                     Eh, but I do loike you!

                           Country Dance

  (At end of dance, enter Constance in tears, leading Notary, who
  carries an ear-trumpet)

                          Aria—CONSTANCE

                    Dear friends, take pity on my lot,
                         My cup is not of nectar!
                    I long have loved—as who would not?—
                         Our kind and reverend rector.
                    Long years ago my love began
                         So sweetly—yet so sadly—
                    But when I saw this plain old man,
                    Away my old affection ran—
                         I found I loved him madly.
                               Oh!

  (To Notary)       You very, very plain old man,
                         I love, I love you madly!
  CHORUS.           You very, very plain old man,
                         She loves, she loves you madly!
  NOTARY.           I am a very deaf old man,
                         And hear you very badly!

  CONST.            I know not why I love him so;
                         It is enchantment, surely!
                    He's dry and snuffy, deaf and slow
                         Ill-tempered, weak and poorly!
                    He's ugly, and absurdly dressed,
                         And sixty-seven nearly,
                    He's everything that I detest,
                    But if the truth must be confessed,
                         I love him very dearly!
                               Oh!

  (To Notary)       You're everything that I detest,
                         But still I love you dearly!

  CHORUS.           You've everything that girls detest,
                         But still she loves you dearly!

  NOTARY.           I caught that line, but for the rest,
                         I did not hear it clearly!

  (During this verse Aline and Alexis have entered at back
  unobserved.)

                          ALINE AND ALEXIS

  ALEX              Oh joy! oh joy!
                         The charm works well,
                               And all are now united.

  ALINE.            The blind young boy
                         Obeys the spell,
                               And troth they all have plighted!

  ENSEMBLE

        Aline & Alexis               Constance              Notary

  Oh joy! oh joy!              Oh, bitter joy!         Oh joy! oh
  joy!
    The charm works well,        No words can tell       No words can
  tell
      And all are now united!      How my poor heart       My state
  of mind
  The blind young boy                is blighted!
  delighted.
    Obeys the spell,           They'll soon employ     They'll soon
  employ
                                 A marriage bell,        A marriage
  bell,
      Their troth they all         To say that we're       To say
  that we're
        have plighted.               united.                 united.
  True happiness               I do confess            True happiness
    Reigns everywhere,           A sorrow rare           Reigns
  everywhere
      And dwells with both         My humbled spirit       And dwells
  with both
        the sexes.                   vexes.                  the
  sexes,
  And all will bless           And none will bless     And all will
  bless
    The thoughtful care          Example rare            Example rare
      Of their beloved             Of their beloved        Of their
  beloved
        Alexis!                      Alexis!                 Alexis!
                              (All, except Alexis and Aline, exeunt
  lovingly.)

        ALINE  How joyful they all seem in their new-found
  happiness!  The whole village has paired off in the happiest
  manner.  And yet not a match has been made that the hollow world
  would not consider ill-advised!
        ALEXIS  But we are wiser—far wiser—than the world.
  Observe the good that will become of these ill-assorted unions.
  The miserly wife will check the reckless expenditure of her too
  frivolous consort, the wealthy husband will shower innumerable
  bonnets on his penniless bride, and the young and lively spouse
  will cheer the declining days of her aged partner with comic
  songs unceasing!
        ALINE  What a delightful prospect for him!
        ALEXIS  But one thing remains to be done, that my happiness
  may be complete.  We must drink the philtre ourselves, that I may
  be assured of your love for ever and ever.
        ALINE  Oh, Alexis, do you doubt me?  Is it necessary that
  such love as ours should be secured by artificial means?  Oh, no,
  no, no!
        ALEXIS  My dear Aline, time works terrible changes, and I
  want to place our love beyond the chance of change.
        ALINE  Alexis, it is already far beyond that chance.  Have
  faith in me, for my love can never, never change!
        ALEXIS  Then you absolutely refuse?
        ALINE  I do.  If you cannot trust me, you have no right to
  love me—no right to be loved by me.
        ALEXIS  Enough, Aline, I shall know how to interpret this
  refusal.

                           BALLAD—ALEXIS

                    Thou hast the power thy vaunted love
                    To sanctify, all doubt above,
                         Despite the gathering shade:
                    To make that love of thine so sure
                    That, come what may, it must endure
                         Till time itself shall fade.
                               They love is but a flower
                               That fades within the hour!
                               If such thy love, oh, shame!
                               Call it by other name—
                                     It is not love!

                    Thine is the power and thine alone,
                    To place me on so proud a throne
                         That kings might envy me!
                    A priceless throne of love untold,
                    More rare than orient pearl and gold.
                         But no!  Thou wouldst be free!
                               Such love is like the ray
                               That dies within the day:
                               If such thy love, oh, shame!
                               Call it by other name—
                                     It is not love!

                          Enter Dr. Daly.

        DR. D.  (musing)  It is singular—it is very singular.  It
  has overthrown all my calculations.  It is distinctly opposed to
  the doctrine of averages.  I cannot understand it.
        ALINE  Dear Dr. Daly, what has puzzled you?
        DR. D.  My dear, this village has not hitherto been addicted
  to marrying and giving in marriage.  Hitherto the youths of this
  village have not been enterprising, and the maidens have been
  distinctly coy.  Judge then of my surprise when I tell you that
  the whole village came to me in a body just now, and implored me
  to join them in matrimony with as little delay as possible.  Even
  your excellent father has hinted to me that before very long it
  is not unlikely that he may also change his condition.
        ALINE  Oh, Alexis—do you hear that?  Are you not delighted?
        ALEXIS  Yes, I confess that a union between your mother and
  my father would be a happy circumstance indeed.  (Crossing to Dr.
  Daly)  My dear sir—the news that you bring us is very
  gratifying.
        DR. D.  Yes—still, in my eyes, it has its melancholy side.

  This universal marrying recalls the happy days—now, alas, gone
  forever—when I myself might have—but tush!  I am puling.  I am
  too old to marry—and yet, within the last half-hour, I have
  greatly yearned for companionship.  I never remarked it before,
  but the young maidens of this village are very comely.  So
  likewise are the middle-aged.  Also the elderly.  All are
  comely—and (with a deep sigh) all are engaged!
        ALINE  Here comes your father.

         Enter Sir Marmaduke with Mrs. Partlet, arm-in-arm

        ALINE and ALEXIS (aside).  Mrs. Partlet!
        SIR M.  Dr. Daly, give me joy.  Alexis, my dear boy, you
  will, I am sure, be pleased to hear that my declining days are
  not unlikely to be solaced by the companionship of this good,
  virtuous, and amiable woman.
        ALEXIS  (rather taken aback)  My dear father, this is not
  altogether what I expected.  I am certainly taken somewhat by
  surprise.  Still it can hardly be necessary to assure you that
  any wife of yours is a mother of mine.  (Aside to Aline.) It is
  not quite what I could have wished.
        MRS. P. (crossing to Alexis)  Oh, sir, I entreat your
  forgiveness.  I am aware that socially I am not everything that
  could be desired, nor am I blessed with an abundance of worldly
  goods, but I can at least confer on your estimable father the
  great and priceless dowry of a true, tender, and lovin' 'art!
        ALEXIS  (coldly)  I do not question it.  After all, a
  faithful love is the true source of every earthly joy.
        SIR M.  I knew that my boy would not blame his poor father
  for acting on the impulse of a heart that has never yet misled
  him.  Zorah is not perhaps what the world calls beautiful—
        DR. D.  Still she is comely—distinctly comely.  (Sighs)
        ALINE  Zorah is very good, and very clean, and honest, and
  quite, quite sober in her habits: and that is worth far more than
  beauty, dear Sir Marmaduke.
        DR. D.  Yes; beauty will fade and perish, but personal
  cleanliness is practically undying, for it can be renewed
  whenever it discovers symptoms of decay.  My dear Sir Marmaduke,
  I heartily congratulate you.  (Sighs)

                             QUINTETTE

         ALEXIS, ALINE, SIR MARMADUKE, ZORAH, and DR. DALY

  ALEXIS.           I rejoice that it's decided,
                         Happy now will be his life,
                    For my father is provided
                         With a true and tender wife.
                    She will tend him, nurse him, mend him,
                         Air his linen, dry his tears;
                    Bless the thoughtful fate that send him
                         Such a wife to soothe his years!

  ALINE.            No young giddy thoughtless maiden,
                         Full of graces, airs, and jeers—
                    But a sober widow, laden
                         With the weight of fifty years!

  SIR M.            No high-born exacting beauty
                         Blazing like a jewelled sun—
                    But a wife who'll do her duty,
                         As that duty should be done!

  MRS. P.           I'm no saucy minx and giddy—
                         Hussies such as them abound—
                    But a clean and tidy widdy
                         Well be-known for miles around!

  DR.D.             All the village now have mated,
                         All are happy as can be—
                    I to live alone am fated:
                         No one's left to marry me!

  ENSEMBLE.              She will tend him etc.

  (Exeunt Sir Marmaduke, Mrs. Partlet, and Aline, with Alexis.  Dr.
  Daly
  looks after them sentimentally, then exits with a sigh.)

                          Enter Mr. Wells

                       RECITATIVE—MR. WELLS

              Oh, I have wrought much evil with my spells!
                    And ill I can't undo!
              This is too bad of you, J. W. Wells—
                    What wrong have they done you?
              And see—another love-lorn lady comes—
                    Alas, poor stricken dame!
              A gentle pensiveness her life benumbs—
                    And mine, alone, the blame!

           Lady Sangazure enters.  She is very melancholy

  LADY S.           Alas, ah me! and well-a-day!
                    I sigh for love, and well I may,
                    For I am very old and grey.
                         But stay!

          (Sees Mr. Wells, and becomes fascinated by him.)

                             RECITATIVE

  LADY S.     What is this fairy form I see before me?
  MR. W.      Oh horrible!—She's going to adore me!
              This last catastrophe is overpowering!
  LADY S.     Why do you glare at one with visage lowering?
              For pity's sake recoil not thus from me!
  MR. W.      My lady leave me—this may never be!

                 DUET—LADY SANGAZURE and MR. WELLS

  MR. W.      Hate me! I drop my H's—have through life!
  LADY S.           Love me! I'll drop them too!
  MR. W.      Hate me! I always eat peas with a knife!
  LADY S.           Love me! I'll eat like you!
  MR. W.      Hate me! I spend the day at Rosherville!
  LADY S.           Love me! that joy I'll share!
  MR. W.      Hate me! I often roll down One Tree Hill!
  LADY S.           Love me! I'll join you there!

  LADY S.     Love me!  My prejudices I will drop!
  MR. W.            Hate me! that's not enough!
  LADY S.      Love me!  I'll come and help you in the shop!
  MR. W.            Hate me! the life is rough!
  LADY S.     Love me! my grammar I will all forswear!
  MR. W.            Hate me! abjure my lot!
  LADY S.     Love me! I'll stick sunflowers in my hair!
  MR. W.            Hate me! they'll suit you not!

                       RECITATIVE—MR. WELLS

              At what I am going to say be not enraged—
              I may not love you—for I am engaged!
  LADY S. (horrified)          Engaged!
  MR. W.                                   Engaged!
                    To a maiden fair,
                    With bright brown hair,
                         And a sweet and simple smile,
                    Who waits for me
                    By the sounding sea,
                         On a South Pacific isle.
  MR. W. (aside)    A lie!  No maiden waits me there!
  LADY S. (mournfully)         She has bright brown hair;
  MR. W. (aside)    A lie!  No maiden smiles on me!
  LADY S. (mournfully)         By the sounding sea!

                              ENSEMBLE

          LADY SANGAZURE                               MR. W.

  Oh agony, rage, despair!                       Oh, agony, rage,
  despair!
  The maiden has bright brown hair,        Oh, where will this
  end—oh, where?
    And mine is as white as snow!            I should like very much
  to know!
  False man, it will be your fault,        It will certainly be my
  fault,
  If I go to my family vault,              If she goes to her family
  vault,
    And bury my life-long woe!               To bury her life-long
  woe!

  BOTH.             The family vault—the family vault.
                    It will certainly be (your/my) fault.
                    If (I go/she goes) to (my/her) family vault,
                         To bury (my/her) life-long woe!

  (Exit Lady Sangazure, in great anguish, accompanied by Mr. Wells.)

                      Enter Aline, Recitative

              Alexis!  Doubt me not, my loved one!  See,
              Thine uttered will is sovereign law to me!
              All fear—all thought of ill I cast away!
              It is may darling's will, and I obey!
                                                     (She drinks the
  philtre.)

                    The fearful deed is done,
                         My love is near!
                    I go to meet my own
                         In trembling fear!
                    If o'er us aught of ill
                         Should cast a shade,
                    It was my darling's will,
                         And I obeyed!

  (As Aline is going off, she meets Dr. Daly, entering pensively.  He
  is playing on a flageolet.  Under the influence of the spell she
  at once becomes strangely fascinated by him, and exhibits every
  symptom of being hopelessly in love with him.)

                           SONG—DR. DALY

                    Oh, my voice is sad and low
                    And with timid step I go—
                    For with load of love o'er laden
                    I enquire of every maiden,
                    "Will you wed me, little lady?
                    Will you share my cottage shady?"
                         Little lady answers "No!
                         Thank you for your kindly proffer—
                         Good your heart, and full your coffer;
                         Yet I must decline your offer—
                               I'm engaged to So-and-so!"
                                     So-and-so!
                                     So-and-so! (flageolet solo)
                         She's engaged to So-and-so!
                    What a rogue young hearts to pillage;
                    What a worker on Love's tillage!
                    Every maiden in the village
                         Is engage to So-and-so!
                               So-and-so!
                               So-and-so! (flageolet solo)
                         All engaged to So-and-so!

  (At the end of the song Dr. Daly sees Aline, and, under the
  influence of the potion, falls in love with her.)

                   ENSEMBLE—ALINE and DR. DALY.

                    Oh, joyous boon! oh, mad delight;
                    Oh, sun and moon! oh, day and night!
                         Rejoice, rejoice with me!
                    Proclaim our joy, ye birds above—
                    Yet brooklets, murmur forth our love,
                         In choral ecstasy:
  ALINE.            Oh, joyous boon!
  DR. D.                 Oh, mad delight!
  ALINE.            Oh, sun and moon!
  DR. D.                 Oh, day and night!
  BOTH.             Ye birds, and brooks, and fruitful trees,
                    With choral joy, delight the breeze—
                         Rejoice, rejoice with me!

                            Enter Alexis

        ALEXIS (with rapture).  Aline my only love, my happiness!
  The philtre—you have tasted it?
        ALINE (with confusion).  Yes!  Yes!
        ALEXIS  Oh, joy, mine, mine for ever, and for aye!

  (Embraces her.)
        ALINE Alexis, don't do that—you must not!

  (Dr. Daly interposes between them)

        ALEXIS  (amazed).  Why?

                     DUET—ALINE and DR.  DALY

  ALINE.            Alas! that lovers thus should meet:
                         Oh, pity, pity me!
                    Oh, charge me not with cold deceit;
                         Oh, pity, pity me!
                    You bade me drink—with trembling awe
                    I drank, and, by the potion's law,
                    I loved the very first I saw!
                         Oh, pity, pity, me!

  DR. D.            My dear young friend, consoled be—
                         We pity, pity you.
                    In this I'm not an agent free—
                         We pity, pity you.
                    Some most extraordinary spell
                    O'er us has cast its magic fell—
                    The consequence I need not tell.
                         We pity, pit you.

                              ENSEMBLE

                    Some most extraordinary spell
                    O'er (us/them) has cast its magic fell—
                    The consequence (we/they) need not tell.
                    (We/They) pity, pity (thee!/me).

  ALEXIS  (furiously)    False one, begone—I spurn thee,
                         To thy new lover turn thee!
                         Thy perfidy all men shall know,
  ALINE.  (wildly)       I could not help it!
  ALEXIS  (calling off)        Come one, come all!
  DR. D.                 We could not help it!
  ALEXIS  (calling off)        Obey my call!
  ALINE  (wildly)        I could not help it!
  ALEXIS  (calling off)        Come hither, run!
  DR. D.                 We could not help it!
  ALEXIS  (calling off)        Come, every one!

    Enter all the characters except Lady Sangazure and Mr. Wells

                               CHORUS

              Oh, what is the matter, and what is the clatter?
                    He's glowering at her, and threatens a blow!
              Oh, why does he batter the girl he did flatter?
                    And why does the latter recoil from him so?

                         RECITATIVE—ALEXIS

                    Prepare for sad surprises—
                    My love Aline despises!
                    No thought of sorrow shames her—
                    Another lover claims her!
              Be his, false girl, for better or for worse—
              But, ere you leave me, may a lover's curse—

        DR. D. (coming forward)  Hold!  Be just.  This poor child
  drank the philtre at your instance.  She hurried off to meet
  you—but, most unhappily, she met me instead.  As you had
  administered the potion to both of us, the result was inevitable.
  But fear nothing from me—I will be no man's rival.  I shall quit
  the country at once—and bury my sorrow in the congenial gloom of
  a Colonial Bishopric.
        ALEXIS  My excellent old friend!  (Taking his hand—then
  turning to Mr. Wells, who has entered with Lady Sangazure.)  Oh,
  Mr.
  Wells, what, what is to be done?
        WELLS  I do not know—and yet—there is one means by which
  this spell may be removed.
        ALEXIS  Name it—oh, name it!
        WELLS  Or you or I must yield up his life to Ahrimanes.  I
  would rather it were you.  I should have no hesitation in
  sacrificing my own life to spare yours, but we take stock next
  week, and it would not be fair on the Co.
        ALEXIS  True.  Well, I am ready!
        ALINE  No, no—Alexis—it must not be!  Mr. Wells, if he
  must die that all may be restored to their old loves, what is to
  become of me?  I should be left out in the cold, with no love to
  be restored to!
        WELLS  True—I did not think of that.  (To the others)  My
  friends, I appeal to you, and I will leave the decision in your
  hands.

                               FINALE

  MR. W.                 Or I or he
                               Must die!
                         Which shall it be?
                               Reply!
  SIR M.                 Die thou!
                               Thou art the cause of all offending!
  DR. D.                 Die thou!
                               Yield to this decree unbending!
  ALL.                   Die thou!
  MR. W.      So be it!  I submit!  My fate is sealed.
              To public execration thus I yield!

                          (Falls on trap)

              Be happy all—leave me to my despair—
              I go—it matters not with whom—or where!

                               (Gong)

  (All quit their present partners, and rejoin their old lovers.
  Sir Marmaduke leaves Mrs. Partlet, and goes to Lady Sangazure.
  Aline
  leaves Dr. Daly, and goes to Alexis.  Dr. Daly leaves Aline, and
  goes
  to Constance.  Notary leaves Constance, and goes to Mrs. Partlet.
  All
  the Chorus makes a corresponding change.)

                                ALL

  GENTLEMEN.             Oh, my adored one!
  LADIES.                            Unmingled joy!
  GENTLEMEN.             Ecstatic rapture!
  LADIES.                            Beloved boy!

                           (They embrace)

  SIR M.      Come to my mansion, all of you!  At least
              We'll crown our rapture with another feast!

                              ENSEMBLE

          SIR MARMADUKE, LADY SANGAZURE, ALEXIS, and ALINE

                    Now to the banquet we press—
                         Now for the eggs and the ham—
                    Now for the mustard and cress—
                         Now for the strawberry jam!

  CHORUS                        Now to the banquet, etc.

  DR. DALY, CONSTANCE, NOTARY, and MRS. PARTLET

                    Now for the tea of our host—
                         Now for the rollicking bun—
                    Now for the muffin and toast—
                         Now for the gay Sally Lunn!

  CHORUS.                      Now for the tea, etc.

                          (General Dance)

  (During the symphony Mr. Wells sinks through the trap, amid red
  fire.)

                              CURTAIN





THESPIS
  OR

  THE GODS GROWN OLD
  Libretto by William S. Gilbert
  Music by Arthur S. Sullivan
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  GODS

  Jupiter, Aged Diety
  Apollo, Aged Diety
  Mars, Aged Diety
  Diana, Aged Diety
  Mercury

                              THESPIANS

  Thespis
  Sillimon
  Timidon
  Tipseion
  Preposteros
  Stupidas
  Sparkeion
  Nicemis
  Pretteia
  Daphne
  Cymon

     ACT I - Ruined Temple on the Summit of Mount Olympus

       ACT II - The same Scene, with the Ruins Restored





ACT I
  [Scene—The ruins of the The Temple of the Gods, on summit of
  Mount Olympus.  Picturesque shattered columns, overgrown with
  ivy, etc. R. and L. with entrances to temple (ruined) R. Fallen
  columns on the stage. Three broken pillars 2 R.E.  At the back of
  stage is the approach from the summit of the mountain. This
  should be "practicable" to enable large numbers of people to
  ascend and descend.  In the distance are the summits of adjacent
  mountains. At first all this is concealed by a thick fog, which
  clears presently.  Enter (through fog) Chorus of Stars coming off
  duty as fatigued with their night's work]

  CHO.  Through the night, the constellations,
       Have given light from various stations.
       When midnight gloom falls on all nations,
       We will resume our occupations.

  SOLO. Our light, it's true, is not worth mention;
       What can we do to gain attention.
       When night and noon with vulgar glaring
       A great big moon is always flaring.

  [During chorus, enter Diana, an elderly goddess. She is carefully
  wrapped up in cloaks, shawls, etc.  A hood is over her head, a
  respirator in her mouth, and galoshes on her feet. During the
  chorus, she takes these things off and discovers herself dressed
  in the usual costume of the Lunar Diana, the goddess of the moon.

  DIA. [shuddering] Ugh. How cold the nights are.  I don't know how
  it is, but I seem to feel the night air a good deal more than I
  used to. But it is time for the sun to be rising. [Calls] Apollo.

  AP. [within] Hollo.

  DIA. I've come off duty—it's time for you to be getting up.

  [Enter Apollo. He is an elderly "buck" with an air of assumed
  juvenility and is dressed in dressing gown and smoking cap.

  AP. [yawning] I shan't go out today. I was out yesterday and the
  day before and I want a little rest. I don't know how it is,but I
  seem to feel my work a great deal more than I used to.

  DIA. I am sure these short days can't hurt you.  Why you don't
  rise til six and you're in bed again by five; you should have a
  turn at my work and see how you like that—out all night.

  AP. My dear sister, I don't envy you—though I remember when I
  did—but that was when I was a younger sun.  I don't think I'm
  quite well.  Perhaps a little change of air will do me good. I've
  a mind to show myself in London this winter. They'll be very glad
  to see me. No. I shan't go out today. I shall send them this
  fine, thick wholesome fog and they won't miss me.  It's the best
  substitute for a blazing sun—and like most substitutes, nothing
  at all like the real thing.

  [Fog clears away and discovers the scene described. Hurried
  music. Mercury shoots up from behind precipice at the back of
  stage. He carries several parcels afterwards described.  He sits
  down, very much fatigued.]

  MER. Home at last. A nice time I've had of it.

  DIA. You young scamp you've been out all night again. This is the
  third time you've been out this week.

  MER. Well you're a nice one to blow me up for that.

  DIA. I can't help being out all night.

  MER. And I can't help being down all night. The nature of Mercury
  requires that he should go down when the sun sets, and rise again
  when the sun rises.

  DIA. And what have you been doing?

  MER. Stealing on commission. There's a set of false teeth and a
  box of Life Pills for Jupiter—an invisible peruke and a bottle
  of hair dye—that's for Apollo—a respirator and a pair of
  galoshes—that's for Cupid—a full bottomed chignon, some
  auricomous fluid, a box of pearl-powder, a pot of rouge, and a
  hare's foot—that's for Venus.

  DIA. Stealing. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

  MER. Oh, as the god of thieves I must do something to justify my
  position.

  DIA.and AP. [contemptuously] Your position.

  MER. Oh, I know it's nothing to boast of even on earth.  Up here,
  it's simply contemptible.  Now that you gods are too old for your
  work, you've made me the miserable drudge of Olympus—groom,
  valet, postman, butler, commissionaire, maid of all work, parish
  beadle, and original dustman.

  AP. Your Christmas boxes ought to be something considerable.

  MER. They ought to be but they're not.  I'm treated abominably.
  I make everybody and I'm nobody.  I go everywhere and I'm
  nowhere.  I do everything and I'm nothing.  I've made thunder for
  Jupiter, odes for Apollo, battles for Mars, and love for Venus.
  I've married couples for Humen and six weeks afterwards, I've
  divorced them for Cupid, and in return I get all the kicks while
  they pocket the halfpence. And in compensation for robbing me of
  the halfpence in question, what have they done for me.

  AP. Why they've—ha.ha.ha. they've made you the god of thieves.

  MER. Very self denying of them.  There isn't one of them who
  hasn't a better claim to the distinction than I have.

       Oh, I'm the celestial drudge,
       For morning to night I must stop at it.
       On errands all day I must trudge,
       And stick to my work til I drop at it.
       In summer I get up at one.
       (As a good-natured donkey I'm ranked for it.)
       then I go and I light up the sun.
       And Phoebus Apollo gets thanked for it.
       Well, well, it's the way of the world.
       And will be through all its futurity.
       Though noodles are baroned and earled,
       There's nothing for clever obscurity.

       I'm the slave of the Gods, neck and heels,
       And I'm bound to obey, though I rate at 'em.
       And I not only order their meals,
       But I cook 'em and serve'em and wait at 'em.
       Then I make all their nectar, I do.
       (What a terrible liquor to rack us is.)
       And whenever I mix them a brew,
       Why all the thanksgivings are Bacchus's.
       Well, well, it's the way of the world, etc.....

       The reading and writing I teach.
       And spelling-books many I've edited.
       And for bringing those arts within reach,
       That donkey Minerva gets credited.
       Then I scrape at the stars with a knife,
       And plate-powder the moon (on the days for it).
       And I hear all the world and his wife
       Awarding Diana the praise for it.
       Well, well, it's the way of the world, etc....

  [After song—very loud and majestic music is heard]

  DIA and MER [looking off] Why, who's this? Jupiter, by Jove.

  [Enter Jupiter, an extremely old man, very decrepit, with very
  thin straggling white beard, he wears a long braided dressing
  gown, handsomely trimmed, and a silk night-cap on his head.
  Mercury falls back respectfully as he enters.]

  JUP. Good day, Diana.  Ah, Apollo.  Well, well, well, what's the
  matter? What's the matter?

  DIA. Why that young scamp Mercury says that we do nothing, and
  leave all the duties of Olympus to him. Will you believe it, he
  actually says that our influence on earth is dropping down to
  nil.

  JUP. Well, well. Don't be hard on the lad.  To tell you the
  truth, I'm not sure that he's far wrong. Don't let it go any
  further, but, between ourselves, the sacrifices and votive
  offerings have fallen off terribly of late. Why, I can remember
  the time when people offered us human sacrifices, no mistake
  about it, human sacrifices.  Think of that.

  DIA. Ah. Those good old days.

  JUP. Then it fell off to oxen, pigs, and sheep.

  AP. Well, there are worse things than oxen, pigs and sheep.

  JUP. So I've found to my cost. My dear sir, between ourselves,
  it's dropped off from one thing to another until it has
  positively dwindled down to preserved Australian beef. What do
  you think of that?

  AP. I don't like it at all.

  JUP. You won't mention it. It might go further.

  DIA. It couldn't fare worse.

  JUP. In short, matters have come to such a crisis that there's no
  mistake about it—something must be done to restore our
  influence, the only question is, what?

  MER. [Coming forward in great alarm. Enter Mars]
       Oh incident unprecedented.
       I hardly can believe it's true.

  MARS. Why, bless the boy, he's quite demented.
       Why, what's the matter, sir, with you?

  AP. Speak quickly, or you'll get a warming.

  MER.  Why, mortals up the mount are swarming
       Our temple on Olympus storming,
       In hundreds—aye in thousands, too.

  ALL. Goodness gracious
       How audacious
       Earth is spacious
       Why come here?
       Our impeding
       Their proceeding
       Were good breeding
       That is clear.

  DIA. Jupiter, hear my plea.
       Upon the mount if they light.
       There'll be an end of me.
       I won't be seen by daylight.

  AP. Tartarus is the place
       These scoundrels you should send to—
       Should they behold my face.
       My influence there's an end to.

  JUP. [looking over precipice]
       What fools to give themselves
       so much exertion

  DIA. A government survey I'll make assertion.

  AP.  Perhaps the Alpine clubs their diversion.

  MER. They seem to be more like a "Cook's" excursion.

  ALL. Goodness gracious, etc.

  AP.  If, mighty Jove, you value your existence,
       Send them a thunderbolt with your regards.

  JUP. My thunderbolts, though valid at a distance,
       Are not effective at a hundred yards.

  MER. Let the moon's rays, Diana, strike 'em flighty,
       Make 'em all lunatics in various styles.

  DIA. My lunar rays unhappily are mighty
       Only at many hundred thousand miles.

  ALL. Goodness gracious, etc...

  [Exeunt Jupiter, Apollo, Diana, and Mercury into ruined temple]

  [Enter Sparkeion and Nicemis climbing mountain at back.]

  SPAR. Here we are at last on the very summit, and we've left the
  others ever so far behind. Why, what's this?

  NICE. A ruined palace.  A palace on the top of a mountain. I
  wonder who lives here?  Some mighty kind, I dare say, with wealth
  beyond all counting who came to live up here—

  SPAR. To avoid his creditors. It's a lovely situation for a
  country house though it's very much out of repair.

  NICE. Very inconvenient situation.

  SPAR. Inconvenient.

  NICE. Yes, how are you to get butter, milk, and eggs up here? No
  pigs, no poultry, no postman. Why, I should go mad.

  SPAR. What a dear little practical mind it is. What a wife you
  will make.

  NICE. Don't be too sure—we are only partly married—the marriage
  ceremony lasts all day.

  SPAR. I have no doubt at all about it. We shall be as happy as a
  king and queen, though we are only a strolling actor and actress.

  NICE. It's very nice of Thespis to celebrate our marriage day by
  giving the company a picnic on this lovely mountain.

  SPAR. And still more kind to allow us to get so much ahead of all
  the others. Discreet Thespis. [kissing her]

  NICE,. There now, get away, do.  Remember the marriage ceremony
  is not yet completed.

  SPAR. But it would be ungrateful to Thespis's discretion not to
  take advantage of it by improving the opportunity.

  NICE. Certainly not; get away.

  SPAR. On second thought the opportunity's so good it don't admit
  of improvement. There.  [kisses her]

  NICE. How dare you kiss me before we are quite married?

  SPAR. Attribute it to the intoxicating influence of the mountain
  air.

  NICE. Then we had better do down again.  It is not right to
  expose ourselves to influences over which we have no control.

  SPAR. Here far away from all the world,
       Dissension and derision,
       With Nature's wonders all unfurled
       To our delighted vision,
       With no one here
       (At least in sight)
       To interfere
       With our delight,
       And two fond lovers sever,
       Oh do not free,
       Thine hand from mine,
       I swear to thee
       My love is ever thine
       For ever and for ever.

  NICE. On mountain top the air is keen,
       And most exhilarating,
       And we say things we do not mean
       In moments less elating.
       So please to wait
       For thoughts that crop,
       En tete-a-tete,
       On mountain top,
       May not exactly tally
       With those that you
       May entertain,
       Returning to
       The sober plain
       Of yon relaxing valley

  SPAR. Very well—if you won't have anything to say to me, I know
  who will.

  NICE. Who will?

  SPAR. Daphne will.

  NICE. Daphne would flirt with anybody.

  SPAR. Anybody would flirt with Daphne. She is quite as pretty as
  you and has twice as much back-hair.

  NICE. She has twice as much money, which may account for it.

  SPAR. At all events, she has appreciation. She likes good looks.

  NICE. We all like what we haven;t got.

  SPAR. She keeps her eyes open.

  NICE. Yes—one of them.

  SPAR. Which one.

  NICE. The one she doesn't wink with.

  SPAR. Well, I was engaged to her for six months and if she still
  makes eyes at me, you must attribute it to force of habit.
  Besides—remember—we are only half-married at present.

  NICE. I suppose you mean that you are going to treat me as
  shamefully as you treated her.  Very well, break it off if you
  like. I shall not offer any objection. Thespis used to be very
  attentive to me. I'd just as soon be a manager's wife as a fifth-
  rate actor's.

  [Chorus heard, at first below, then enter Daphne, Pretteia,
  Preposteros, Stupidas, Tipseion, Cymon, and other members of
  Thespis's company climbing over rocks at back. All carry small
  baskets.]

  CHO. [with dance] Climbing over rocky mountain
       Skipping rivulet and fountain,
       Passing where the willows quiver
       By the ever rolling river,
        Swollen with the summer rain.
       Threading long and leafy mazes,
       Dotted with unnumbered daisies,
       Scaling rough and rugged passes,
       Climb the hearty lads and lasses,
       Til the mountain-top they gain.

  FIRST VOICE. Fill the cup and tread the measure
       Make the most of fleeting leisure.
       Hail it as a true ally
       Though it perish bye and bye.

  SECOND VOICE. Every moment brings a treasure
       Of its own especial pleasure,
       Though the moments quickly die,
       Greet them gaily as they fly.

  THIRD VOICE. Far away from grief and care,
       High up in the mountain air,
       Let us live and reign alone,
       In a world that's all our own.

  FOURTH VOICE. Here enthroned in the sky,
       Far away from mortal eye,
       We'll be gods and make decrees,
       Those may honor them who please.

  CHO. Fill the cup and tread the measure...etc.

  [After Chorus and Couples enter, Thespis climbing over rocks]

  THES. Bless you, my people, bless you. Let the revels commence.
  After all, for thorough, unconstrained unconventional enjoyment
  give me a picnic.

  PREP. [very gloomily] Give him a picnic, somebody.

  THES. Be quiet, Preposteros. Don't interrupt.

  PREP. Ha. Ha. Shut up again. But no matter.

  [Stupidas endeavors, in pantomime, to reconcile him. Throughout
  the scene Prep shows symptoms of breaking out into a furious
  passion, and Stupidas does all he can to pacify and restrain
  him.]

  THES. The best of a picnic is that everybody contributes what he
  pleases, and nobody knows what anybody else has brought til the
  last moment. Now, unpack everybody and let's see what there is
  for everybody.

  NICE. I have brought you—a bottle of soda water—for the claret-
  cup.

  DAPH. I have brought you—lettuce for the lobster salad.

  SPAR. A piece of ice—for the claret-cup.

  PRETT. A bottle of vinegar—for the lobster salad.

  CYMON. A bunch of burrage for the claret-cup.

  TIPS. A hard boiled egg—for the lobster salad.

  STUP. One lump of sugar for the claret-cup.

  PREP. He has brought one lump of sugar for the claret-cup? Ha.
  Ha. Ha. [laughing melodramatically]

  STUP. Well, Preposteros, what have you brought?

  PREP. I have brought two lumps of the very best salt for the
  lobster salad.

  THES. Oh—is that all?

  PREP. All. Ha. Ha. He asks if it is all. {Stup. consoles him]

  THES. But, I say—this is capital so far as it goes. Nothing
  could be better, but it doesn't go far enough. The claret, for
  instance. I don't insist on claret—or a lobster—I don't insist
  on lobster, but a lobster salad without a lobster, why it isn't
  lobster salad.  Here, Tipseion.

  TIP. [a very drunken, bloated fellow, dressed, however, with
  scrupulous accuracy and wearing a large medal around his neck] My
  master. [Falls on his knees to Thes. and kisses his robe.]

  THES. Get up—don't be a fool. Where's the claret? We arranged
  last week that you were to see to that.

  TIPS. True, dear master. But then I was a drunkard.

  THES. You were.

  TIPS. You engaged me to play convivial parts on the strength of
  my personal appearance.

  THES. I did.

  TIPS. Then you found that my habits interfered with my duties as
  low comedian.

  THES. True.

  TIPS. You said yesterday that unless I took the pledge you would
  dismiss me from your company.

  THES. Quite so.

  TIPS. Good. I have taken it.  It is all I have taken since
  yesterday. My preserver. [embraces him]

  THES. Yes, but where's the wine?

  TIPS. I left it behind that I might not be tempted to violate my
  pledge.

  PREP. Minion. [Attempts to get at him, is restrained by Stupidas]

  THES. Now, Preposteros, what is the matter with you?

  PREP. It is enough that I am down-trodden in my profession. I
  will not submit to imposition out of it.  It is enough that as
  your heavy villain I get the worst of it every night in a combat
  of six.  I will not submit to insult in the day time. I have come
  out. Ha. Ha. to enjoy myself.

  THES. But look here, you know—virtue only triumphs at night from
  seven to ten—vice gets the best of it during the other twenty
  one hours.  Won't that satisfy you? [Stupidas endeavours to
  pacify him.]

  PREP. [Irritated to Stupidas] Ye are odious to my sight. Get out
  of it.

  STUP. [In great terror] What have I done?

  THES. Now what is it. Preposteros, what is it?

  PREP. I a — hate him and would have his life.

  THES. [to Stup.] That's it—he hates you and would have your
  life. Now go and be merry.

  STUP. Yes, but why does he hate me?

  THES. Oh—exactly. [to Prep.] Why do you hate him?

  PREP. Because he is a minion.

  THES. He hates you because you are a minion.  It explains itself.
  Now go and enjoy yourselves. Ha. Ha. It is well for those who can
  laugh—let them do so—there is no extra charge.  The light-
  hearted cup and the convivial jest for them—but for me—what is
  there for me?

  SILLI. There is some claret-cup and lobster salad [handing some]

  THES. [taking it] Thank you. [Resuming] What is there for me but
  anxiety—ceaseless gnawing anxiety that tears at my very vitals
  and rends my peace of mind asunder?  There is nothing whatever
  for me but anxiety of the nature I have just described. The
  charge of these thoughtless revellers is my unhappy lot.  It is
  not a small charge, and it is rightly termed a lot because there
  are many. Oh why did the gods make me a manager?

  SILL. [as guessing a riddle] Why did the gods make him a manager?

  SPAR. Why did the gods make him a manager.

  DAPH. Why did the gods make him a manager?

  PRETT. Why did the gods make him a manager?

  THES. No—no—what are you talking about? What do you mean?

  DAPH. I've got it—no don't tell us.

  ALL. No—no—because—because

  THES. [annoyed] It isn't a conundrum.  It's misanthropical
  question.

  DAPH. [Who is sitting with Spar. to the annoyance of Nice. who is
  crying alone] I'm sure I don't know. We do not want you. Don't
  distress yourself on our account—we are getting on very
  comfortably—aren't we Sparkeion.

  SPAR. We are so happy that we don't miss the lobster or the
  claret. What are lobster and claret compared with the society of
  those we love? [embracing Daphne.]

  DAPH. Why, Nicemis, love, you are eating nothing. Aren't you
  happy dear?

  NICE. [spitefully] You are quite welcome to my share of
  everything. I intend to console myself with the society of my
  manager. [takes Thespis' arm affectionately].

  THES. Here I say—this won't do, you know—I can't allow it—at
  least before my company—besides, you are half-married to
  Sparkeion. Sparkeion, here's your half-wife impairing my
  influence before my company. Don't you know the story of the
  gentleman who undermined his influence by associating with his
  inferiors?

  ALL. Yes, yes—we know it.

  PREP. [formally] I do not know it. It's ever thus. Doomed to
  disappointment from my earliest years.  [Stup. endeavours to
  console him]

  THES. There—that's enough.  Preposteros—you shall hear it.

  I once knew a chap who discharged a function
  On the North South East West Diddlesex Junction.
  He was conspicuous exceeding,
  For his affable ways, and his easy breeding.
  Although a chairman of directions,
  He was hand in glove with the ticket inspectors.
  He tipped the guards with brand new fivers,
  And sang little songs to the engine drivers.
  'Twas told to me with great compunction,
  By one who had discharged with unction
  A chairman of directors function
  On the North South East West Diddlesex Junction.
  Fol diddle, lol diddle, lol lol lay.

  Each Christmas day he gave each stoker
  A silver shovel and a golden poker.
  He'd button holw flowers for the ticket sorters
  And rich Bath-buns for the outside porters.
  He'd moun the clerks on his first-class hunters,
  And he build little villas for the road-side shunters,
  And if any were fond of pigeon shooting,
  He'd ask them down to his place at Tooting.
  Twas told to me....etc.

  In course of time there spread a rumour
  That he did all this from a sense of humour.
  So instead of signalling and stoking,
  They gave themselves up to a course of joking.
  Whenever they knew that he was riding,
  They shunted his train on a lonely siding,
  Or stopped all night in the middle of a tunnel,
  On the plea that the boiler was a-coming through the funnel.
  Twas told to me...etc.

  It he wished to go to Perth or Stirling,
  His train through several counties whirling,
  Would set him down in a fit of larking,
  At four a.m. in the wilds of Barking.
  This pleased his whim and seemed to strike it,
  But the general public did not like it.
  The receipts fell, after a few repeatings,
  And he got it hot at the annual meetings.
  Twas told to me...etc.

  He followed out his whim with vigour,
  The shares went down to a nominal figure.
  These are the sad results proceeding
  From his affable ways and his easy breeding.
  The line, with its rais and guards and peelers,
  Was sold for a song to marine store dealers
  The shareholders are all in the work'us,
  And he sells pipe-lights in the Regent Circus.
  Twas told to me...etc.

  It's very hard. As a man I am naturally of an easy disposition.
  As a manager, I am compelled to hold myself aloof, that my
  influence may not be deteriorated.  As a man I am inclined to
  fraternize with the pauper—as a manager I am compelled to walk
  around like this: Don't know yah. Don't know yah. Don't know yah.

  [Strides haughtily about the stage. Jupiter, Mars, and Apollo, in
  full Olympian costume appear on the three broken columns.
  Thespians scream.]

  JUP, MARS, AP. Presumptuous mortal.

  THES. Don't know ya. Don't know yah.

  JUP, MARS, AP. [seated on broken pillars] Presumptuous mortal.

  THES. I do not know you. I do not know you.

  JUP, MARS, AP. Presumptuous mortal.

  THES. Remove this person.

  [Stup and Prep seize Ap and Mars]

  JUP. Stop, you evidently don't know me.  Allow me to offer you my
  card. [Throws flash paper]

  THES. Ah yes, it's very pretty, but we don't want any at present.
  When we do our Christmas piece, I'll let you know. [Changing his
  manner] Look here, you know this is a private party and we
  haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance. There are a good many
  other mountains about, if you must have a mountain all to
  yourself. Don't make me let myself down before my company.
  [Resuming] Don't know yah, Don't know yah.

  JUP. I am Jupiter, the king of the gods. This is Apollo. This is
  Mars. [All kneel to them except Thespis]

  THES. Oh. Then as I'm a respectable man, and rather particular
  about the company I keep, I think I'll go.

  JUP. No—no—stop a bit. We want to consult you on a matter of
  great importance. There. Now we are alone. Who are you?

  THES. I am Thespis of the Thessalian Theatres.

  JUP. The very man we want. Now as a judge of what the public
  likes are you impressed with my appearance as father of the gods?

  THES. Well to be candid with you, I am not. In fact I'm
  disappointed.

  JUP. Disappointed?

  THES. Yes, you see you're so much out of repair. No, you don't
  come up to my idea of the part. Bless you, I've played you often.

  JUP. You have.

  THES. To be sure I have.

  JUP. And how have you dressed the part.

  THES. Fine commanding party in the prime of life. Thunderbolt—
  full beard—dignified manner—a good eal of this sort of thin
  "Don't know ya. Don't know yah. Don't know yah.

  JUP. [much affected] I—I'm very much obliged to you. It's very
  good of you. I—I—I used to be like that. I can't tell you how
  much I feel it. And do you find I'm an impressive character to
  play?

  THES. Well no, I can't say you are.  In fact we don't you you
  much out of burlesque.

  JUP. Burlesque!

  THES. Yes, it's a painful subject, drop it, drop it.  The fact
  is, you are not the gods you were—you're behind your age.

  JUP. Well, but what are we to do? We feel that we ought to do
  something, but we don't know what.

  THES. Why don't you all go down to earth, incog, mingle with the
  world, hear and see what people think of you, and judge for
  yourselves as to the best means to take to restore your
  influence?

  JUP. Ah, but what's to become of Olympus in the meantime?

  THES. Lor' bless you, don't distress yourself about that. I've a
  very good company, used to take long parts on the shortest
  notice. Invest us with your powers and we'll fill your places
  till you return.

  JUP. [aside] The offer is tempting. But suppose you fail?

  THES. Fail. Oh, we never fail in our profession. We've nothing
  but great successes.

  JUP. Then it's a bargain.

  THES. It's a bargain. [they shake hands on it]

  JUP. And that you may not be entirely without assistance, we will
  leave you Mercury and whenever you find yourself in a difficulty
  you can consult him.  [enter Mercury]

  JUP.  So that's arranged—you take my place, my boy,
       While we make trial of a new existence.
       At length I will be able to enjoy
       The pleasures I have envied from a distance.

  MER.  Compelled upon Olympus here to stop,
       While the other gods go down to play the hero.
       Don't be surprised if on this mountain top
       You find your Mercury is down at zero.

  AP.  To earth away to join in mortal acts.
       And gather fresh materials to write on.
       Investigate more closely, several facts,
       That I for centuries have thrown some light on.

  DIA. I, as the modest moon with crescent bow.
       Have always shown a light to nightly scandal,
       I must say I'd like to go below,
       And find out if the game is worth the candle.

  [enter all thespians, summoned by Mercury]

  MER. Here come your people.

  THES. People better now.

  THES. While mighty Jove goes down below
       With all the other deities.
       I fill his place and wear his "clo,"
       The very part for me it is.
       To mother earth to make a track,
       They are all spurred and booted, too.
       And you will fill, till they come back,
       The parts you best are suited to.

  CHO. Here's a pretty tale for future Iliads and Odysseys
       Mortals are about to personate the gods and goddesses.
       Now to set the world in order, we will work in unity.
       Jupiter's perplexity is Thespis's opportunity.

  SPAR. Phoebus am I, with golden ray,
       The god of day, the god of day.
       When shadowy night has held her sway,
       I make the goddesses fly.
       Tis mine the task to wake the world,
       In slumber curled, in slumber curled.
       By me her charms are all unfurled
       The god of day am I.

  CHO. The god of day, the god of day,
       The park shall our Sparkeion play,
       Ha Ha, etc.
       The rarest fun and rarest fare
       That ever fell to mortal share
       Ha ha etc.

  NICE. I am the moon, the lamp of night.
       I show a light — I show a light.
       With radiant sheen I put to flight
       The shadows of the sky.
       By my fair rays, as you're aware,
       Gay lovers swear—gay lovers swear,
       While greybeards sleep away their care,
       The lamp of night am I.

  CHO. The lamp of night-the lamp of night.
       Nicemis plays, to her delight.
       Ha Ha Ha Ha.
       The rarest fun and rarest fare,
       That ever fell to mortal share,
       Ha Ha Ha Ha

  TIM. Mighty old Mars, the god of war,
       I'm destined for—I'm destined for.
       A terribly famous conqueror,
       With sword upon his thigh.
       When armies meet with eager shout
       And warlike rout, and warlike rout,
       You'll find me there without a doubt.
       The God of War am I.

  CHO. The god of war, the god of war
       Great Timidon is destined for.
       Ha Ha Ha Ha
       The rest fun and rarest fare
       That ever fell to mortal share
       Ha Ha Ha Ha

  DAPH. When, as the fruit of warlike deeds,
       The soldier bleed, the soldier bleeds,
       Calliope crowns heroic deeds,
       With immortality.
       From mere oblivion I reclaim
       The soldier's name, the soldier's name
       And write it on the roll of fame,
       The muse of fame am I.

  CHO. The muse of fame, the muse of fame.
       Callipe is Daphne's name.
       Ha Ha Ha Ha
       The rarest fun and rarest fare,
       That ever fell to mortal share.
       Ha Ha Ha Ha.

  TUTTI. Here's a pretty tale.

  [Enter procession of old Gods, they come down very much
  astonished at all they see, then passing by, ascent the platform
  that leads to the descent at the back.]

  GODS. We will go,
       Down below,
       Revels rare,
       We will share.
       Ha Ha Ha
       With a gay
       Holiday
       All unknown,
       And alone
       Ha Ha Ha.

  TUTTI. Here's a pretty tale.

  [The gods, including those who have lately entered in procession
  group themselves on rising ground at back. The Thespians kneeling
  bid them farewell.]





ACT II
  SCENE-the same scene as in Act I with the exception that in place
  of the ruins that filled the foreground of the stage, the
  interior of a magnificent temple is seen showing the background
  of the scene of Act I, through the columns of the portico at the
  back. High throne. L.U.E. Low seats below it.  All the substitute
  gods and goddesses [that is to say, Thespians] are discovered
  grouped in picturesque attitudes about the stage, eating and
  drinking, and smoking and singing the following verses.

  CHO. Of all symposia
       The best by half
       Upon Olympus, here await us.
       We eat ambrosia.
       And nectar quaff,
       It cheers but don't inebriate us.
       We know the fallacies,
       Of human food
       So please to pass Olympian rosy,
       We built up palaces,
       Where ruins stood,
       And find them much more snug and cosy.

  SILL. To work and think, my dear,
       Up here would be,
       The height of conscientious folly.
       So eat and drink, my dear,
       I like to see,
       Young people gay—young people jolly.
       Olympian food my love,
       I'll lay long odds,
       Will please your lips—those rosy portals,
       What is the good, my love
       Of being gods,
       If we must work like common mortals?

  CHO. Of all symposia...etc.

  [Exeunt all but Nicemis, who is dressed as Diana and Pretteia,
  who is dressed as Venus. They take Sillimon's arm and bring him
  down]

  SILL. Bless their little hearts, I can refuse them nothing. As
  the Olympian stage-manager I ought to be strict with them and
  make them do their duty, but i can't.  Bless their little hearts,
  when I see the pretty little craft come sailing up to me with a
  wheedling smile on their pretty little figure-heads, I can't turn
  my back on 'em.  I'm all bow, though I'm sure I try to be stern.

  PRET. You certainly are a dear old thing.

  SILL. She says I'm a dear old thing.  Deputy Venus says I'm a
  dear old thing.

  NICE. It's her affectionate habit to describe everybody in those
  terms. I am more particular, but still even I am bound to admit
  that you are certainly a very dear old thing.

  SILL. Deputy Venus says I'm a dear old thing, and Deputy Diana
  who is much more particular, endorses it. Who could be severe
  with such deputy divinities.

  PRET. Do you know, I'm going to ask you a favour.

  SILL. Venus is going to ask me a favour.

  PRET. You see, I am Venus.

  SILL. No one who saw your face would doubt it.

  NICE. [aside] No one who knew her character would.

  PRET. Well Venus, you know, is married to Mars.

  SILL. To Vulcan, my dear, to Vulcan. The exact connubial relation
  of the different gods and goddesses is a point on which we must
  be extremely particular.

  PRET. I beg your pardon—Venus is married to Mars.

  NICE. If she isn't married to Mars, she ought to be.

  SILL. Then that decides it—call it married to Mars.

  PRET. Married to Vulcan or married to Mars, what does it signify?

  SILL. My dear, it's a matter on which I have no personal feeling
  whatever.

  PRET. So that she is married to someone.

  SILL. Exactly. So that she is married to someone. Call it married
  to Mars.

  PRET. Now here's my difficulty. Presumptios takes the place of
  Mars, and Presumptios is my father.

  SILL. Then why object to Vulcan?

  PRET. Because Vulcan is my grandfather.

  SILL. But, my dear, what an objection. You are playing a part
  till the real gods return. That's all.  Whether you are supposed
  to be married to your father—or your grandfather, what does it
  matter? This passion for realism is the curse of the stage.

  PRET. That's all very well, but I can't throw myself into a part
  that has already lasted a twelvemonth, when I have to make love
  to my father.  It interferes with my conception of the
  characters. It spoils the part.

  SILL. Well, well. I'll see what can be done. [Exit Pretteia,
  L.U.E.) That's always the way with beginners, they've no
  imaginative power.  A true artist ought to be superior to such
  considerations. [Nicemis comes down R.] Well, Nicemis, I should
  say, Diana, what's wrong with you? Don't you like your part?

  NICE. Oh, immensely. It's great fun.

  SILL. Don't you find it lonely out by yourself all night?

  NICE. Oh, but I'm not alone all night.

  SILL. But, I don't want to ask any injudicious questions, but who
  accompanies you?

  NICE. Who? Why Sparkeion, of course.

  SILL. Sparkeion? Well, but Sparkeion is Phoebus Apollo [enter
  Sparkeion] He's the sun, you know.

  NICE. Of course he is.  I should catch my death of cold, in the
  night air, if he didn't accompany me.

  SPAR. My dear Sillimon, it would never do for a young lady to be
  out alone all night. It wouldn't be respectable.

  SILL. There's a good deal of truth in that.  But still—the sun—
  at night—I don't like the idea.  The original Diana always went
  out alone.

  NICE. I hope the original Diana is no rule for me. After all,
  what does it matter?

  SILL. To be sure—what does it matter?

  SPAR. The sun at night, or in the daytime.

  SILL. So that he shines. That's all that's necessary. [Exit
  Nicemis, R.U.E.] But poor Daphne, what will she say to this.

  SPAR. Oh, Daphne can console herself; young ladies soon get over
  this sort of thing. Did you never hear of the young lady who was
  engaged to Cousin Robin?

  SILL. Never.

  SPAR. Then I'll sing it to you.

       Little maid of Arcadee
       Sat on Cousin Robin's knee,
       Thought in form and face and limb,
       Nobody could rival him.
       He was brave and she was fair,
       Truth they made a pretty paid.
       Happy little maiden she—
       Happy maid of Arcadee.

       Moments fled as moments will
       Happily enough, until
       After, say, a month or two,
       Robin did as Robins do.
       Weary of his lover's play,
       Jilted her and went away,
       Wretched little maiden, she—
       Wretched maid of Arcadee.

       To her little home she crept,
       There she sat her down and wept,
       Maiden wept as maidens will—
       Grew so thin and pale—until
       Cousin Richard came to woo.
       Then again the roses grew.
       Happy little maiden she—
       Happy maid of Arcadee.   [Exit Sparkeion]

  SILL. Well Mercury, my boy, you've had a year's experience of us
  here. How do we do it? I think we're rather an improvement on the
  original gods—don't you?

  MER. Well, you see, there's a good deal to be said on both sides
  of the question; you are certainly younger than the original
  gods, and, therefore, more active.  On the other hand, they are
  certainly older than you, and have, therefore, more experience.
  On the whole I prefer you, because your mistakes amuse me.

  Olympus is now in a terrible muddle,
  The deputy deities all are at fault
  They splutter and splash like a pig in a puddle
  And dickens a one of 'em's earning his salt.
  For Thespis as Jove is a terrible blunder,
  Too nervous and timid—too easy and weak—
  Whenever he's called on to lighten or thunder,
  The thought of it keeps him awake for a week.

  Then mighty Mars hasn't the pluck of a parrot.
  When left in the dark he will quiver and quail;
  And Vulcan has arms that would snap like a carrot,
  Before he could drive in a tenpenny nail.
  Then Venus's freckles are very repelling,
  And Venus should not have a quint in her eyes;
  The learned Minerva is weak in her spelling,
  And scatters her h's all over the skies.

  Then Pluto in kindhearted tenderness erring,
  Can't make up his mind to let anyone die—
  The Times has a paragraph ever recurring,
  "Remarkable incidence of longevity."
  On some it has some as a serious onus,
  to others it's quite an advantage—in short,
  While ev're life office declares a big bonus,
  The poor undertakers are all in the court.

  Then Cupid, the rascal, forgetting his trade is
  To make men and women impartially smart,
  Will only shoot at pretty young ladies,
  And never takes aim at a bachelor's heart.
  The results of this freak—or whatever you term it—
  Should cover the wicked young scamp with disgrace,
  While ev'ry young man is as shy as a hermit,
  Young ladies are popping all over the place.

  This wouldn't much matter—for bashful and shymen,
  When skillfully handled are certain to fall,
  But, alas, that determined young bachelor Hymen
  Refuses to wed anybody at all.
  He swears that Love's flame is the vilest of arsons,
  And looks upon marriage as quite a mistake;
  Now what in the world's to become of the parsons,
  And what of the artist who sugars the cake?

  In short, you will see from the facts that I'm showing,
  The state of the case is exceedingly sad;
  If Thespis's people go on as they're going,
  Olympus will certainly go to the bad.
  From Jupiter downward there isn't a dab in it,
  All of 'em quibble and shuffle and shirk,
  A premier in Downing Street forming a cabinet,
  Couldn't find people less fit for their work.

  [enter Thespis L.U.E.]

  THES. Sillimon, you can retire.

  SILL. Sir, I—

  THES. Don't pretend you can't when I say you can. I've seen you
  do it—go. [exit Sillimon bowing extravagantly. Thespis imitates
  him]Well, Mercury, I've been in power one year today.

  MER. One year today. How do you like ruling the world?

  THES. Like it.  Why it's as straightforward as possible. Why
  there hasn't been a hitch of any kind since we came up here. Lor'
  the airs you gods and goddesses give yourselves are perfectly
  sickening. Why it's mere child's play.

  MER. Very simple isn't it?

  THES. Simple? Why I could do it on my head.

  MER. Ah—I darsay you will do it on your head very soon.

  THES. What do you mean by that, Mercury?

  MER. I mean that when you've turned the world quite topsy-turvy
  you won't know whether you're standing on your head or your
  heels.

  THES. Well, but Mercury, it's all right at present.

  MER. Oh yes—as far as we know.

  THES. Well, but, you know, we know as much as anybody knows; you
  know I believe the world's still going on.

  MER. Yes—as far as we can judge—much as usual.

  THES. Well, the, give the Father of the Drama his due Mercury.
  Don't be envious of the Father of the Drama.

  MER. But you see you leave so much to accident.

  THES. Well, Mercury, if I do, it's my principle. I am an easy
  man, and I like to make things as pleasant as possible. What did
  I do the day we took office?  Why I called the company together
  and I said to them: "Here we are, you know, gods and goddesses,
  no mistake about it, the real thing. Well, we have certain duties
  to discharge, let's discharge them intelligently. Don't let us be
  hampered by routine and red tape and precedent, let's set the
  original gods an example, and put a liberal interpretation on our
  duties.  If it occurs to any one to try an experiment in his own
  department, let him try it, if he fails there's no harm done, if
  he succeeds it is a distinct gain to society. Don't hurry your
  work, do it slowly and well." And here we are after a twelvemonth
  and not a single complaint or a single petition has reached me.

  MER. No, not yet.

  THES. What do you mean by "no,not yet?"

  MER. Well, you see, you don't understand things. All the
  petitions that are addressed by men to Jupiter pass through my
  hands, and its my duty to collect them and present them once a
  year.

  THES. Oh, only once a year?

  MER. Only once a year—

  THES. And the year is up?

  MER. Today.

  THES. Oh, then I suppose there are some complaints?

  MER. Yes, there are some.

  THES. [Disturbed] Oh, perhaps there are a good many?

  MER. There are a good many.

  THES. Oh, perhaps there are a thundering lot?

  MER. There are a thundering lot.

  THES. [very much disturbed] Oh.

  MER. You see you've been taking it so very easy—and so have most
  of your company.

  THES. Oh, who has been taking it easy?

  MER. Well, all except those who have been trying experiments.

  THES. Well but I suppose the experiment are ingenious?

  MER. Yes; they are ingenious, but on the whole ill-judged. But
  it's time go and summon your court.

  THES. What for.

  MER. To hear the complaints.  In five minutes they will be here.
  [Exit]

  THES. [very uneasy] I don't know how it is, but there is
  something in that young man's manner that suggests that the
  father of the gods has been taking it too easy.  Perhaps it would
  have been better if I hadn't given my company so much scope. I
  wonder what they've been doing. I think I will curtail their
  discretion, though none of them appear to have much of the
  article.  It seems a pity to deprive 'em of what little they
  have.

  [Enter Daphne, weeping]

  THES. Now then, Daphne, what's the matter with you?

  DAPH. Well, you know how disgracefully Sparkeion—

  THES. [correcting her] Apollo—

  DAPH. Apollo, then—has treated me. He promised to marry me years
  ago and now he's married to Nicemis.

  THES. Now look here. I can't go into that. You're in Olympus now
  and must behave accordingly. Drop your Daphne—assume your
  Calliope.

  DAPH. Quite so. That's it. [mysteriously]

  THES. Oh—that is it? [puzzled]

  DAPH. That is it. Thespis.  I am Calliope, the muse of fame.
  Very good. This morning I was in the Olympian library and I took
  down the only book there.  Here it is.

  THES. [taking it] Lempriere's Classical Dictionary. The Olympian
  Peerage.

  DAPH. Open it at Apollo.

  THES. [opens it] It is done.

  DAPH. Read.

  THES. "Apollo was several times married, among others to Issa,
  Bolina, Coronis, Chymene, Cyrene, Chione, Acacallis, and
  Calliope."

  DAPH. And Calliope.

  THES. [musing] Ha. I didn't know he was married to them.

  DAPH. [severely] Sir. This is the family edition.

  THES. Quite so.

  DAPH. You couldn't expect a lady to read any other?

  THES. On no consideration. But in the original version—

  DAPH. I go by the family edition.

  THES. Then by the family edition, Apollo is your husband.

  [Enter Nicemis and Sparkeion]

  NICE. Apollo your husband? He is my husband.

  DAPH. I beg your pardon. He is my husband.

  NICE. Apollo is Sparkeion, and he's married to me.

  DAPH. Sparkeion is Apollo, and he's married to me.

  NICE. He is my husband.

  DAPH. He's your brother.

  THES. Look here, Apollo, whose husband are you?  Don't let's have
  any row about it; whose husband are you?

  SPAR. Upon my honor I don't know. I'm in a very delicate
  position, but I'll fall in with any arrangement Thespis may
  propose.

  DAPH. I've just found out that he's my husband and yet he goes
  out every evening with that "thing."

  THES. Perhaps he's trying an experiment.

  DAPH. I don't like my husband to make such experiments. The
  question is, who are we all and what is our relation to each
  other.

  SPAR. You're Diana. I'm Apollo
       And Calliope is she.

  DAPH. He's your brother.

  NICE. You're another.  He has fairly married me.

  DAPH. By the rules of this fair spot
       I'm his wife and you are not.

  SPAR & DAPH.  By the rules of this fair spot
       I'm/she's his wife and you are not.

  NICE. By this golden wedding ring,
       I'm his wife, and you're a "thing."

  DAPH, NICE, SPAR. By this golden wedding ring,
       I'm/She's his wife and you're a "thing."

  ALL. Please will someone kindly tell us.
       Who are our respective kin?
       All of us/them are very jealous
       Neither of us/them will give in.

  NICE. He's my husband, I declare,
       I espoused him properlee.

  SPAR. That is true, for I was there,
       And I saw her marry me.

  DAPH. He's your brother—I'm his wife.
       If we go by Lempriere.

  SPAR. So she is, upon my life.
       Really, that seems very fair.

  NICE. You're my husband and no other.

  SPAR. That is true enough I swear.

  DAPH. I'm his wife, and you're his brother.

  SPAR. If we go by Lempriere.

  NICE. It will surely be unfair,
       To decide by Lempriere. [crying]

  DAPH. It will surely be quite fair,
       To decide by Lempriere.

  SPAR & THES How you settle it I don't care,
       Leave it all to Lempriere.
       [Spoken] The Verdict
       As Sparkeion is Apollo,
       Up in this Olympian clime,
       Why, Nicemis, it will follow,
       He's her husband, for the time. [indicating Daphne]

       When Sparkeion turns to mortal
       Join once more the sons of men.
       He may take you to his portal [indicating Nicemis]
       He will be your husband then.
       That oh that is my decision,
       'Cording to my mental vision,
       Put an end to all collision,
       My decision, my decision.

  ALL. That oh that is his decision. etc.

  [Exeunt Thes, Nice., Spar and Daphne, Spar. with Daphne, Nicemis
  weeping with Thespis.  mysterious music. Enter Jupiter, Apollo
  and Mars from below, at the back of stage. All wear cloaks, as
  disguise and all are masked]

  JUP., AP., MARS. Oh rage and fury, Oh shame and sorrow.
       We'll be resuming our ranks tomorrow.
       Since from Olympus we have departed,
       We've been distracted and brokenhearted,
       Oh wicked Thespis. Oh villain scurvy.
       Through him Olympus is topsy turvy.
       Compelled to silence to grin and bear it.
       He's caused our sorrow, and he shall share it.
       Where is the monster. Avenge his blunders.
       He has awakened Olympian thunders.

  [Enter Mercury]

  JUP. Oh monster.

  AP. Oh monster.

  MARS. Oh monster.

  MER. [in great terror] Please sir, what have I done, sir?

  JUP. What did we leave you behind for?

  MER. Please sir, that's the question I asked for when you went
  away.

  JUP. Was it not that Thespis might consult you whenever he was in
  a difficulty?

  MER. Well, here I've been ready to be consulted, chockful of
  reliable information—running over with celestial maxims—advice
  gratis ten to four—after twelve ring the night bell in cases of
  emergency.

  JUP. And hasn't he consulted you?

  MER. Not he—he disagrees with me about everything.

  JUP. He must have misunderstood me.  I told him to consult you
  whenever he was in a fix.

  MER. He must have though you said in-sult.  Why whenever I opened
  my mouth he jumps down my throat.  It isn't pleasant to have a
  fellow constantly jumping down your throat—especially when he
  always disagrees with you. It's just the sort of thing I can't
  digest.

  JUP. [in a rage] Send him here.  I'll talk to him.

  [enter Thespis. He is much terrified]

  JUP. Oh monster.

  AP. Oh monster.

  MARS. Oh monster.

  [Thespis sings in great terror, which he endeavours to conceal]

  JUP. Well sir, the year is up today.

  AP. And a nice mess you've made of it.

  MARS. You've deranged the whole scheme of society.

  THES. [aside] There's going to be a row. [aloud and very
  familiarly]My dear boy, I do assure you—

  JUP. Be respectful.

  AP. Be respectful.

  MARS. Be respectful.

  THES. I don't know what you allude to. With the exception of
  getting our scene painter to "run up" this temple, because we
  found the ruins draughty, we haven't touched a thing.

  JUP. Oh story teller.

  AP. Oh story teller.

  MARS. Oh story teller.

  [Enter thespians]

  THES. My dear fellows, you're distressing yourselves
  unnecessarily. The court of Olympus is about to assemble to
  listen to the complaints of the year, if any.  But there are
  none, or next to none.  Let the Olympians assemble.  [Thespis
  takes chair.  JUP., AP., and MARS sit below him.

  Ladies and gentlemen, it seems that it is usual for the gods to
  assemble once a year to listen to mortal petitions. It doesn't
  seem to me to be a good plan, as work is liable to accumulate;
  but as I am particularly anxious not to interfere with Olympian
  precedent, but to allow everything to go on as it has always been
  accustomed to go—why, we'll say no more about it. [aside] But
  how shall I account for your presence?

  JUP. Say we are the gentlemen of the press.

  THES. That all our proceedings may be perfectly open and above-
  board I have communicated with the most influential members of
  the Athenian press, and I beg to introduce to your notice three
  of its most distinguished members.  They bear marks emblematic of
  the anonymous character of modern journalism. [Business of
  introduction. Thespis is very uneasy]  Now then, if you're all
  ready we will begin.

  MER. [brings tremendous bundle of petitions] Here is the agenda.

  THES. What's that?  The petitions?

  MER. Some of them. [opens one and reads] Ah, I thought there'd be
  a row about it.

  THES. Why, what's wrong now?

  MER. Why, it's been a foggy Friday in November for the last six
  months and the Athenians are tired of it.

  THES. There's no pleasing some people. This craving for perpetual
  change is the curse of the country. Friday's a very nice day.

  MER. So it is, but a Friday six months long.—it gets monotonous.

  JUP, AP, MARS. [rising] It's perfectly ridiculous.

  THES. [calling them] Cymon.

  CYM. [as time with the usual attributes] Sir.

  THES. [Introducing him to the three gods] Allow me—Father Time—
  rather young at present but even time must have a beginning.  In
  course of time, time will grow older.  Now then, Father Time,
  what's this about a wet Friday in November for the last six
  months.

  CYM. Well, the fact is, I've been trying an experiment. Seven
  days in the week is an awkward number. It can't be halved. Two;'s
  into seven won't go.

  THES. [tries it on his fingers] Quite so—quite so.

  CYM. So I abolished Saturday.

  JUP, AP, MARS. Oh but. [Rising]

  THES. Do be quiet. He's a very intelligent young man and knows
  what he is about. So you abolished Saturday. And how did you find
  it answer?

  CYM. Admirably.

  THES. You hear? He found it answer admirably.

  CYM. Yes, only Sunday refused to take its place.

  THES. Sunday refused to take its place?

  CYM. Sunday comes after Saturday—Sunday won't go on duty after
  Friday. Sunday's principles are very strict. That's where my
  experiment sticks.

  THES. Well, but why November? Come, why November?

  CYM. December can't begin until November has finished.  November
  can't finish because he's abolished Saturday. There again my
  experiment sticks.

  THES. Well, but why wet? Come now, why wet?

  CYM. Ah, that is your fault. You turned on the rain six months
  ago and you forgot to turn it off again.

  JUP., AP., MARS. [rising] On this is monstrous.

  ALL. Order. Order.

  THES. Gentlemen, pray be seated. [to the others] The liberty of
  the press, one can't help it. [to the three gods] It is easily
  settled. Athens has had a wet Friday in November for the last six
  months.  Let them have a blazing Tuesday in July for the next
  twelve.

  JUP., AP., MARS. But—

  ALL. Order. Order.

  THES. Now then, the next article.

  MER. Here's a petition from the Peace Society. They complain
  because there are no more battles.

  MARS. [springing up] What.

  THES. Quiet there. Good dog—soho; Timidon.

  TIM. [as Mars] Here.

  THES. What's this about there being no battles?

  TIM. I've abolished battles; it's an experiment.

  MARS. [spring up] Oh come, I say—

  THES. Quiet then. [to Tim] Abolished battles?

  TIM. Yes, you told us on taking office to remember two things. To
  try experiments and to take it easy. I found I couldn't take it
  easy while there are any battles to attend to, so I tried the
  experiment and abolished battles. And then I took it easy. The
  Peace Society ought to be very much obliged to me.

  THES. Obliged to you. Why, confound it. Since battles have been
  abolished, war is universal.

  TIM. War is universal?

  THES. To be sure it is. Now that nations can't fight, no two of
  'em are on speaking terms. The dread of fighting was the only
  thing that kept them civil to each other.  Let battles be
  restored and peace reign supreme.

  MER. Here's a petition from the associated wine merchants of
  Mytilene? Are there no grapes this year?

  THES. Well, what's wrong with the associated wine merchants of
  Mytilene?  Are there no grapes this year?

  THES. Plenty of grapes. More than usual.

  THES. [to the gods] You observe, there is no deception. There are
  more than usual.

  MER. There are plenty of grapes, only they are full of ginger
  beer.

  THREE GODS. Oh, come I say [rising they are put down by Thespis.]

  THES. Eh? what [much alarmed] Bacchus.

  TIPS. [as Bacchus] Here.

  THES. There seems to be something unusual with the grapes of
  Mytilene. They only grow ginger beer.

  TIPS. And a very good thing too.

  THES. It's very nice in its way but it is not what one looks for
  from grapes.

  TIPS. Beloved master, a week before we came up here, you insisted
  on my taking the pledge. By so doing you rescued me from my
  otherwise inevitable misery. I cannot express my thanks. Embrace
  me. [attempts to embrace him.]

  THES. Get out, don't be a fool. Look here, you know you're the
  god of wine.

  TIPS. I am.

  THES. [very angry] Well, do you consider it consistent with your
  duty as the god of wine to make the grapes yield nothing but
  ginger beer?

  TIPS. Do you consider it consistent with my duty as a total
  abstainer to grow anything stronger than ginger beer?

  THES. But your duty as the god of wine—

  TIPS. In every respect in which my duty as the god of wine can be
  discharged consistently with my duty as a total abstainer, I will
  discharge it.  But when the functions clash, everything must give
  way to the pledge.  My preserver. [Attempts to embrace him]

  THES. Don't be a confounded fool. This can be arranged. We can't
  give over the wine this year, but at least we can improve the
  ginger beer.  Let all the ginger beer be extracted from it
  immediately.

  THREE GODS. We can't stand this,
       We can't stand this.
       It's much too strong.
       We can't stand this.
       It would be wrong.
       Extremely wrong.
       If we stood this.

       If we stand this
       If we stand this
       We can't stand this.

  DAPH, SPAR, NICE. Great Jove, this interference.
       Is more than we can stand;
       Of them make a clearance,
       With your majestic hand.

  JOVE. This cool audacity, it beats us hollow.
       I'm Jupiter.

  MARS. I'm Mars.

  AP. I'm Apollo.

  [Enter Diana and all the other gods and goddesses.

  ALL. [kneeling with their foreheads on the ground]

       Jupiter, Mars, and Apollo
       Have quitted the dwellings of men;
       The other gods quickly will follow.
       And what will become of us then.
       Oh pardon us, Jove and Apollo,
       Pardon us, Jupiter, Mars:
       Oh see us in misery wallow.
       Cursing our terrible stars.

  [enter other gods.]

  ALL THESPIANS: Let us remain, we beg of you pleadingly.

  THREE GODS: Let them remain, they beg of us pleadingly.

  THES. Life on Olympus suits us exceedingly.

  GODS. Life on Olympus suits them exceedingly.

  THES. Let us remain, we pray in humility.

  GODS. Let 'em remain, they pray in humility.

  THES. If we have shown some little ability.

  GODS. If they have shown some little ability.
       Let us remain, etc...

  JUP. Enough, your reign is ended.
       Upon this sacred hill.
       Let him be apprehended
       And learn out awful will.
       Away to earth, contemptible comedians,
       And hear our curse, before we set you free'
       You shall be all be eminent tragedians,
       Whom no one ever goes to see.

  ALL. We go to earth, contemptible tragedians,
       We hear his curse, before he sets us free,
       We shall all be eminent tragedians,
       Whom no one ever, ever goes to see.

  SILL, SPAR, THES. Whom no one
       Ever goes to see.

  [The thespians are driven away by the gods, who group themselves
  in attitudes of triumph.]

  THES. Now, here you see the arrant folly
       Of doing your best to make things jolly.
       I've ruled the world like a chap in his senses,
       Observe the terrible consequences.
       Great Jupiter, whom nothing pleases,
       Splutters and swears, and kicks up breezes,
       And sends us home in a mood avengin'
       In double quick time, like a railroad engine.
       And this he does without compunction,
       Because I have discharged with unction
       A highly complicated function
       Complying with his own injunction,
       Fol, lol, lay

  CHO. All this he does....etc.

  [The gods drive the thespians away. The thespians prepare to
  descent the mountain as the curtain falls.

                        CURTAIN





TRIAL BY JURY
 Libretto by W. S. Gilbert
 Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  THE LEARNED JUDGE
  THE PLAINTIFF
  THE DEFENDANT
  COUNSEL FOR THE PLAINTIFF
  USHER
  FOREMAN OF THE JURY
  ASSOCIATE
  FIRST BRIDESMAID
   First produced at the Royalty Theatre, London, March 25, 1875
  SCENE - A Court of Justice, Barristers, Attorney, and Jurymen
       discovered.

                               CHORUS

            Hark, the hour of ten is sounding:
            Hearts with anxious fears are bounding,
            Hall of Justice, crowds surrounding,
                 Breathing hope and fear—
            For to-day in this arena,
            Summoned by a stern subpoena,
            Edwin, sued by Angelina,
                 Shortly will appear.

  Enter Usher

                            SOLO - USHER

            Now, Jurymen, hear my advice—
            All kinds of vulgar prejudice
                 I pray you set aside:
            With stern, judicial frame of mind
            From bias free of every kind,
                 This trial must be tried.

                               CHORUS

            From bias free of every kind,
            This trial must be tried.

  [During Chorus, Usher sings fortissimo, "Silence in Court!"]

  USHER     Oh, listen to the plaintiff's case:
            Observe the features of her face—
                 The broken-hearted bride.
            Condole with her distress of mind:
            From bias free of every kind,
                 This trial must be tried!

  CHORUS         From bias free, etc.

  USHER     And when, amid the plaintiff's shrieks,
            The ruffianly defendant speaks—
                 Upon the other side;
            What he may say you needn't mind—-
            From bias free of every kind,
                 This trial must be tried!

  CHORUS         From bias free, etc.

  Enter Defendant

                         RECIT — DEFENDANT

                 Is this the court of the Exchequer?
  ALL.           It is!
  DEFENDANT (aside)   Be firm, be firm, my pecker,
                 Your evil star's in the ascendant!
  ALL.           Who are you?
  DEFENDANT.     I'm the Defendant.

              CHORUS OF JURYMEN (shaking their fists)

                 Monster, dread our damages.
                      We're the jury!
                      Dread our fury!

  DEFENDANT      Hear me, hear me, if you please,
                      These are very strange proceedings—
                 For permit me to remark
                      On the merits of my pleadings,
                 You're at present in the dark.

  [Defendant beckons to Jurymen—they leave the box and gather around
       him as they sing the following:

                 That's a very true remark—
                      On the merits of his pleadings
                 We're at present in the dark!
                 Ha! ha!—ha! ha!

                         SONG — DEFENDANT

            When first my old, old love I knew,
                 My bosom welled with joy;
            My riches at her feet I threw—
                 I was a love-sick boy!
            No terms seemed too extravagant
                 Upon her to employ—
            I used to mope, and sigh, and pant,
                 Just like a love-sick boy!
                      Tink-a-tank! Tink-a-tank!

            But joy incessant palls the sense;
                 And love, unchanged, will cloy,
            And she became a bore intense
                 Unto her love-sick boy!
            With fitful glimmer burnt my flame,
                 And I grew cold and coy,
            At last, one morning, I became
                 Another's love-sick boy.
                      Tink-a-tank!  Tink-a-tank!

              CHORUS OF JURYMEN (advancing stealthily)

            Oh, I was like that when a lad!
                 A shocking young scamp of a rover,
            I behaved like a regular cad;
                 But that sort of thing is all over.
            I'm now a respectable chap
                 And shine with a virtue resplendent
            And, therefore, I haven't a scrap
                 Of sympathy with the defendant!
                      He shall treat us with awe,
                      If there isn't a flaw,
            Singing so merrily—Trial-la-law!
            Trial-la-law!  Trial-la-law!
            Singing so merrily—Trial-la-law!

                                          [They enter the Jury-box.

                      RECIT—USHER (on Bench)

            Silence in Court, and all attention lend.
            Behold your Judge!  In due submission bend!

  Enter Judge on Bench

                               CHORUS

                      All hail, great Judge!
                           To your bright rays
                      We never grudge
                           Ecstatic praise.
                                     All hail!

                      May each decree
                           As statute rank
                      And never be
                           Reversed in banc.
                                     All hail!
                            RECIT—JUDGE

       For these kind words, accept my thanks, I pray.
       A Breach of Promise we've to try to-day.
       But firstly, if the time you'll not begrudge,
       I'll tell you how I came to be a Judge.

  ALL.      He'll tell us how he came to be a Judge!
  JUDGE.    I'll tell you how...
  ALL.      He'll tell us how...
  JUDGE.    I'll tell you how...
  ALL.      He'll tell us how...
  JUDGE     Let me speak...!
  ALL.      Let him speak!
  JUDGE.    Let me speak!
  ALL. (in a whisper).     Let him speak!
                           He'll tell us how he came to be a Judge!
  USHER.    Silence in Court!  Silence in Court!

                            SONG—JUDGE

            When I, good friends, was called to the bar,
                 I'd an appetite fresh and hearty.
            But I was, as many young barristers are,
                 An impecunious party.

            I'd a swallow-tail coat of a beautiful blue—
                 And a brief which I bought of a booby—
            A couple of shirts, and a collar or two,
                 And a ring that looked like a ruby!

  CHORUS.             A couple of shirts, etc.

  JUDGE.    At Westminster Hall I danced a dance,
                 Like a semi-despondent fury;
            For I thought I never should hit on a chance
                 Of addressing a British Jury—
            But I soon got tired of third-class journeys,
                 And dinners of bread and water;
            So I fell in love with a rich attorney's
                 Elderly, ugly daughter.

  CHORUS.             So he fell in love, etc.

  JUDGE.    The rich attorney, he jumped with joy,
                 And replied to my fond professions:
            "You shall reap the reward of your pluck, my boy,
                 At the Bailey and Middlesex sessions.
            You'll soon get used to her looks," said he,
                 "And a very nice girl you will find her!
            She may very well pass for forty-three
                 In the dusk, with a light behind her!"

  CHORUS.             She may very well, etc.

  JUDGE.    The rich attorney was good as his word;
                 The briefs came trooping gaily,
            And every day my voice was heard
                 At the Sessions or Ancient Bailey.
            All thieves who could my fees afford
                 Relied on my orations.
            And many a burglar I've restored
                 To his friends and his relations.

  CHORUS.             And many a burglar, etc.

  JUDGE.    At length I became as rich as the Gurneys—
                 An incubus then I thought her,
            So I threw over that rich attorney's
                 Elderly, ugly daughter.
            The rich attorney my character high
                 Tried vainly to disparage—-
            And now, if you please, I'm ready to try
                 This Breach of Promise of Marriage!

  CHORUS.             And now if you please, etc.

  JUDGE.    For now I'm a Judge!
  ALL.      And a good Judge, too!
  JUDGE.    For now I'm a Judge!
  ALL.      And a good Judge, too!
  JUDGE.    Though all my law be fudge,
            Yet I'll never, never budge,
            But I'll live and die a Judge!
  ALL.      And a good Judge, too!
  JUDGE (pianissimo). It was managed by a job—
  ALL.      And a good job, too!
  JUDGE.    It was managed by a job!
  ALL.      And a good job too!
  JUDGE.    It is patent to the mob,
            That my being made a nob
            Was effected by a job.
  ALL.      And a good job too!

  [Enter Counsel for Plaintiff.  He takes his place in front row of
       Counsel's seats

                          RECIT — COUNSEL

                      Swear thou the jury!

  USHER.    Kneel, Jurymen, oh, kneel!

  [All the Jury kneel in the Jury-box, and so are hidden from
       audience.

  USHER.    Oh, will you swear by yonder skies,
            Whatever question may arise,
            'Twixt rich and poor, 'twixt low and high,
            That you will well and truly try?

  JURY (raising their hands, which alone are visible)

            To all of this we make reply
            By the dull slate of yonder sky:
            That we will well and truly try.
                 We'll try.

                   (All rise with the last note)

                          RECIT — COUNSEL

                      Where is the Plaintiff?
                      Let her now be brought.

                           RECIT — USHER

                 Oh, Angelina! Come thou into Court!
                      Angelina!  Angelina!

  Enter the Bridesmaids

                       CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS

                      Comes the broken flower—
                           Comes the cheated maid—
                      Though the tempest lower,
                           Rain and cloud will fade
                      Take, oh maid, these posies:
                           Though thy beauty rare
                      Shame the blushing roses,
                           They are passing fair!
                                Wear the flowers 'til they fade;
                                Happy be thy life, oh maid!

  [The Judge, having taken a great fancy to First Bridesmaid, sends
       her a note by Usher, which she reads, kisses rapturously,
       and places in her bosom.

  Enter Plaintiff

                         SOLO — PLAINTIFF

                      O'er the season vernal,
                           Time may cast a shade;
                      Sunshine, if eternal,
                           Makes the roses fade!
                      Time may do his duty;
                           Let the thief alone—
                      Winter hath a beauty.
                           That is all his own.
                                Fairest days are sun and shade:
                                I am no unhappy maid!

  [The Judge having by this time transferred his admiration to
       Plaintiff, directs the Usher to take the note from First
       Bridesmaid and hand it to Plaintiff, who reads it,
       kisses it rapturously, and places it in her bosom.

                       CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS

                      Comes the broken flower, etc.

  JUDGE.    Oh, never, never, never,
            Since I joined the human race,
            Saw I so excellently fair a face.
  THE JURY (shaking their forefingers at him). Ah, sly dog!
            Ah, sly dog!
  JUDGE (to Jury).    How say you?
            Is she not designed for capture?
  FOREMAN (after consulting with the Jury). We've but one word,
            m'lud, and that is—Rapture!
  PLAINTIFF (curtseying). Your kindness, gentlemen, quite
            overpowers!

  JURY.     We love you fondly, and would make you ours!

  BRIDESMAIDS (shaking their forefingers at Jury).
            Ah, sly dogs!  Ah, sly dogs!

                   RECIT — COUNSEL for PLAINTIFF

                 May it please you, m'lud!
                      Gentlemen of the jury!

  ARIA — COUNSEL

                 With a sense of deep emotion,
                      I approach this painful case;
                 For I never had a notion
                      That a man could be so base,
                 Or deceive a girl confiding,
                 Vows, etcetera deriding.

  ALL.                He deceived a girl confiding,
                      Vows, etcetera, deriding.

  [Plaintiff falls sobbing on Counsel's breast and remains there.

  COUNSEL.       See my interesting client,
                      Victim of a heartless wile!
                 See the traitor all defiant
                      Wear a supercilious smile!
                 Sweetly smiled my client on him,
                 Coyly woo'd and gently won him.

  ALL.                Sweetly smiled, etc.

  COUNSEL.       Swiftly fled each honeyed hour
                      Spent with this unmanly male!
                 Sommerville became a bow'r,
                      Alston an Arcadian Vale,
                 Breathing concentrated otto!—
                 An existence  la Watteau.

  ALL.                Bless, us, concentrated otto! etc.

  COUNSEL.       Picture, then, my client naming,
                      And insisting on the day:
                 Picture him excuses framing—
                      Going from her far away;
                 Doubly criminal to do so,
                 For the maid had bought her trousseau!

  ALL.                Doubly criminal, etc.
                 COUNSEL (to Plaintiff, who weeps)

            Cheer up, my pretty—oh, cheer up!

  JURY.     Cheer up, cheer up, we love you!

  [Counsel leads Plaintiff fondly into Witness-box; he takes a tender
       leave of her, and resumes his place in Court.

               (Plaintiff reels as if about to faint)

  JUDGE.    That she is reeling
                 Is plain to see!

  FOREMAN.  If faint you're feeling
                 Recline on me!

                     [She falls sobbing on to the Foreman's breast.

  PLAINTIFF (feebly). I shall recover
                           If left alone.

  ALL. (shaking their fists at Defendant)
                 Oh, perjured lover,
                      Atone! atone!

  FOREMAN.  Just like a father                         [Kissing her
                 I wish to be.

  JUDGE. (approaching her)
            Or, if you'd rather,
                 Recline on me!

  [She jumps on to Bench, sits down by the Judge, and falls sobbing
       on his breast.

  COUNSEL.  Oh! fetch some water
                 From far Cologne!

  ALL.      For this sad slaughter
                 Atone! atone!

  JURY. (shaking fists at Defendant)
            Monster, monster, dread our fury—
            There's the Judge, and we're the Jury!
            Come! Substantial damages,
            Dam—-

  USHER.              Silence in Court!

                         SONG — DEFENDANT

       Oh, gentlemen, listen, I pray,
            Though I own that my heart has been ranging,
       Of nature the laws I obey,
            For nature is constantly changing.
       The moon in her phases is found,
            The time, and the wind, and the weather.
       The months in succession come round,
            And you don't find two Mondays together.
                 Consider the moral, I pray,
                      Nor bring a young fellow to sorrow,
                 Who loves this young lady to-day,
                      And loves that young lady to-morrow.

  BRIDESMAIDS (rushing forward, and kneeling to Jury).

                 Consider the moral, etc.

       One cannot eat breakfast all day,
            Nor is it the act of a sinner,
       When breakfast is taken away,
            To turn his attention to dinner.
       And it's not in the range of belief,
            To look upon him as a glutton,
       Who, when he is tired of beef,
            Determines to tackle the mutton.
                 But this I am willing to say,
                      If it will appease her sorrow,
                 I'll marry this lady to-day,
                      And I'll marry the other to-morrow.

  BRIDESMAIDS (rushing forward as before)

                 But this he is willing say, etc.

                           RECIT — JUDGE

       That seems a reasonable proposition,
       To which, I think, your client may agree.

  COUNSEL
       But I submit, m'lud, with all submission,
       To marry two at once is Burglaree!
                                            [Referring to law book.
       In the reign of James the Second,
       It was generally reckoned
       As a rather serious crime
       To marry two wives at a time.
                             [Hands book up to Judge, who reads it.

  ALL.           Oh, man of learning!

                             QUARTETTE

  JUDGE.    A nice dilemma we have here,
                 That calls for all our wit:

  COUNSEL.  And at this stage, it don't appear
                 That we can settle it.

  DEFENDANT (in Witness-box).
            If I to wed the girl am loth
                 A breach 'twill surely be—

  PLAINTIFF.     And if he goes and marries both,
                      It counts as Burglaree!

  ALL.      A nice dilemma we have here,
                 That calls for all our wit.

                  DUET — PLAINTIFF and DEFENDANT

               PLAINTIFF (embracing him rapturously)

       I love him—I love him—with fervour unceasing
            I worship and madly adore;
       My blind adoration is ever increasing,
            My loss I shall ever deplore.
       Oh, see what a blessing, what love and caressing
            I've lost, and remember it, pray,
       When you I'm addressing, are busy assessing
            The damages Edwin must pay—-
                      Yes, he must pay!

                DEFENDANT (repelling her furiously)

       I smoke like a furnace—I'm always in liquor,
            A ruffian—a bully—a sot;
       I'm sure I should thrash her, perhaps I should kick her,
            I am such a very bad lot!
       I'm not prepossessing, as you may be guessing,
            She couldn't endure me a day!
       Recall my professing, when you are assessing
            The damages Edwin must pay!

  PLAINTIFF.               Yes, he must pay!

  [She clings to him passionately; after a struggle, he throws her
       off into arms of Counsel.

  JURY.     We would be fairly acting,
            But this is most distracting!
            If, when in liquor he would kick her,
            That is an abatement.

                           RECIT — JUDGE

       The question, gentlemen—is one of liquor.
            You ask for guidance—this is my reply:
       He says, when tipsy, he would thrash and kick her.
            Let's make him tipsy, gentlemen, and try!

  COUNSEL.       With all respect,
                 I do object!

  PLAINTIFF.     I do object!

  DEFENDANT.     I don't object!

  ALL.           With all respect
                 We do object!

             JUDGE (tossing his books and paper about)

            All the legal furies seize you!
            No proposal seems to please you,
            I can't sit up here all day,
            I must shortly get away.
            Barristers, and you, attorneys,
            Set out on your homeward journeys;
            Gentle, simple-minded Usher,
            Get you, if you like, to Russher;
            Put your briefs upon the shelf,
            I will marry her myself!

  [He comes down from Bench to floor of Court.  He embraces
       Angelina.

                               FINALE

  PLAINTIFF.     Oh, joy unbounded,
                 With wealth surrounded,
                 The knell is sounded
                      Of grief and woe.

  COUNSEL.       With love devoted
                 On you he's doated,
                 To castle moated
                      Away they go.

  DEFENDANT.     I wonder whether
                 They'll live together,
                 In marriage tether
                      In manner true?

  USHER.         It seems to me, sir,
                 Of such as she, sir,
                 A Judge is he, sir,
                      And a good Judge, too!

  JUDGE.         Yes, I am a Judge!

  ALL.           And a good Judge, too!

  JUDGE.         Yes, I am a Judge!

  ALL.           And a good Judge, too!

  JUDGE.         Though homeward as you trudge,
                 You declare my law is fudge.
                 Yet of beauty I'm a judge.

  ALL.           And a good Judge too!

  JUDGE.         Though defendant is a snob,

  ALL.           And a great snob, too!

  JUDGE.         Though defendant is a snob,

  ALL.           And a great snob, too!

  JUDGE.         Though defendant is a snob,
                 I'll reward him from his fob.
                 So we've settled with the job,

  ALL.           And a good job, too!

                               Dance

                              CURTAIN





  UTOPIA LIMITED
  OR
  THE FLOWERS OF PROGRESS

  Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan
  Libretto by William S. Gilbert
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  King Paramount, the First (King of Utopia)
  Scaphio and Phantis (Judges of the Utopian Supreme Court)
  Tarara (The Public Exploder)
  Calynx (The Utopian Vice-Chamberlain)

  Imported Flowers of Progress:

  Lord Dramaleigh (a British Lord Chamberlain)
  Captain Fitzbattleaxe (First Life Guards)
  Captain Sir Edward Corcoran, K.C.B. (of the Royal Navy)
  Mr. Goldbury (a company promoter; afterwards Comptroller of the
  Utopian
       Household)
  Sir Bailey Barre, Q.C., M.P.
  Mr. Blushington (of the County Council)

  The Princess Zara (eldest daughter of King Paramount)
  The Princesses Nekaya and Kalyba (her Younger Sisters)
  The Lady Sophy (their English Gouvernante)

  Utopian Maidens:
       Salata
       Melene
       Phylla
                               ACT I

                        A Utopian Palm Grove

                               ACT II

               Throne Room in King Paramount's Palace
      First produced at the Savoy Theatre on October 7, 1893.





ACT I.
                              OPENING CHORUS.

                      In lazy languor—motionless,
                      We lie and dream of nothingness;
                           For visions come
                           From Poppydom
                                Direct at our command:
                      Or, delicate alternative,
                      In open idleness we live,
                           With lyre and lute
                           And silver flute,
                                The life of Lazyland.

                              SOLO - Phylla.

                      The song of birds
                           In ivied towers;
                                The rippling play
                                Of waterway;
                      The lowing herds;
                           The breath of flowers;
                                The languid loves
                                Of turtle doves—
                      These simple joys are all at hand
                      Upon thy shores, O Lazyland!

                           (Enter Calynx)

  Calynx:   Good news!  Great news!  His Majesty's eldest daughter,
  Princess Zara, who left our shores five years since to go to
  England—the greatest, the most powerful, the wisest country
  in the world—has taken a high degree at Girton, and is on
  her way home again, having achieved a complete mastery over all
  the elements that have tended to raise that glorious country to
  her present preeminent position among civilized nations!

  Salata:   Then in a few months Utopia may hope to be completely
  Anglicized?

  Calynx:   Absolutely and without a doubt.

  Melene:   (lazily)  We are very well as we are.  Life without a
  care—every want supplied by a kind and fatherly monarch,
  who, despot though he be, has no other thought than to make his
  people happy—what have we to gain by the great change that
  is in store for us?

  Salata:   What have we to gain?  English institutions, English
  tastes, and oh, English fashions!

  Calynx:   England has made herself what she is because, in that
  favored land, every one has to think for himself.  Here we have
  no need to think, because our monarch anticipates all our wants,
  and our political opinions are formed for us by the journals to
  which we subscribe.  Oh, think how much more brilliant this
  dialogue would have been, if we had been accustomed to exercise
  our reflective powers!  They say that in England the conversation
  of the very meanest is a coruscation of impromptu epigram!

  (Enter Tarara in a great rage)

  Tarara:   Lalabalele talala!  Callabale lalabalica falahle!

  Calynx:   (horrified)  Stop—stop, I beg!  (All the ladies
  close their ears.)

  Tarara:   Callamalala galalate!  Caritalla lalabalee kallalale
  poo!

  Ladies:   Oh, stop him!  stop him!

  Calynx:   My lord, I'm surprised at you.  Are you not aware that
  His Majesty, in his despotic acquiescence with the emphatic wish
  of his people, has ordered that the Utopian language shall be
  banished from his court, and that all communications shall
  henceforward be made in the English tongue?

  Tarara:   Yes, I'm perfectly aware of it, although—(suddenly
  presenting an explosive "cracker").  Stop—allow me.

  Calynx:   (pulls it).  Now, what's that for?

  Tarara:   Why, I've recently been appointed Public Exploder to His
  Majesty, and as I'm constitutionally nervous, I must accustom
  myself by degrees to the startling nature of my duties. Thank you.
  I was about to say that although, as Public Exploder, I am next in
  succession to the throne, I nevertheless do my best to fall in
  with the royal decree.  But when I am overmastered by an indignant
  sense of overwhelming wrong, as I am now, I slip into my native
  tongue without knowing it.  I am told that in the language of that
  great and pure nation, strong expressions do not exist, consequently
  when I want to let off steam I have no alternative but to
  say, "Lalabalele molola lililah kallalale poo!"

  Calynx:   But what is your grievance?

  Tarara:   This—by our Constitution we are governed by a
  Despot who, although in theory absolute—is, in practice,
  nothing of the kind—being watched day and night by two Wise
  Men whose duty it is, on his very first lapse from political or
  social propriety, to denounce him to me, the Public Exploder, and
  it then becomes my duty to blow up His Majesty with
  dynamite—allow me.  (Presenting a cracker which Calynx
  pulls.)  Thank you—and, as some compensation to my wounded
  feelings, I reign in his stead.

  Calynx:   Yes.  After many unhappy experiments in the direction of
  an ideal Republic, it was found that what may be described as a
  Despotism tempered by Dynamite provides, on the whole, the most
  satisfactory description of ruler—an autocrat who dares not
  abuse his autocratic power.

  Tarara:   That's the theory—but in practice, how does it
  act? Now, do you ever happen to see the Palace Peeper?  (producing
  a "Society" paper).

  Calynx:   Never even heard of the journal.

  Tarara:   I'm not surprised, because His Majesty's agents always
  buy up the whole edition; but I have an aunt in the publishing
  department, and she has supplied me with a copy.  Well, it
  actually teems with circumstantially convincing details of the
  King's abominable immoralities!  If this high-class journal may be
  believed, His Majesty is one of the most Heliogabalian profligates
  that ever disgraced an autocratic throne!  And do these Wise Men
  denounce him to me?  Not a bit of it!  They wink at his
  immoralities!  Under the circumstances I really think I am
  justified in exclaiming "Lalabelele molola lililah kalabalale
  poo!"  (All horrified.)  I don't care—the occasion demands
  it.

  (Exit Tarara)

  (March.  Enter Guard, escorting Scaphio and Phantis.)

                                  CHORUS.

            O make way for the Wise Men!
                      They are the prizemen—
                 Double-first in the world's university!
            For though lovely this island
                      (Which is my land),
                 She has no one to match them in her city.
            They're the pride of Utopia—
                      Cornucopia
                 Is each his mental fertility.
            O they make no blunder,
                      And no wonder,
                 For they're triumphs of infallibility.

                       DUET — Scaphio and Phantis.

            In every mental lore
                 (The statement smacks of vanity)
            We claim to rank before
                 The wisest of humanity.
            As gifts of head and heart
                 We wasted on "utility,"
            We're "cast" to play a part
                 Of great responsibility.

            Our duty is to spy
                 Upon our King's illicites,
            And keep a watchful eye
                 On all his eccentricities.
            If ever a trick he tries
                 That savours of rascality,
            At our decree he dies
                 Without the least formality.

            We fear no rude rebuff,
                 Or newspaper publicity;
            Our word is quite enough,
                 The rest is electricity.
            A pound of dynamite
                 Explodes in his auriculars;
            It's not a pleasant sight—
                 We'll spare you the particulars.

            Its force all men confess,
                 The King needs no admonishing—
            We may say its success
                 Is something quite astonishing.
            Our despot it imbues
                 With virtues quite delectable,
            He minds his P's and Q's,—
                 And keeps himself respectable.

            Of a tyrant polite
            He's paragon quite.
            He's as modest and mild
            In his ways as a child;
            And no one ever met
            With an autocrat yet,
            So delightfully bland
            To the least in the land!
            So make way for the wise men, etc.

     (Exeunt all but Scaphio and Phantis.  Phantis is pensive.)
  Scaphio:  Phantis, you are not in your customary exuberant
  spirits. What is wrong?

  Phantis:  Scaphio, I think you once told me that you have never
  loved?

  Scaphio:  Never!  I have often marvelled at the fairy influence
  which weaves its rosy web about the faculties of the greatest and
  wisest of our race; but I thank Heaven I have never been subjected
  to its singular fascination.  For, oh, Phantis! there is that
  within me that tells me that when my time does come, the
  convulsion will be tremendous!  When I love, it will be with the
  accumulated fervor of sixty-six years! But I have an ideal—a
  semi-transparent Being, filled with an inorganic pink
  jelly—and I have never yet seen the woman who approaches
  within measurable distance of it.  All are
  opaque—opaque—opaque!

  Phantis:  Keep that ideal firmly before you, and love not until
  you find her.  Though but fifty-five, I am an old campaigner in
  the battle-fields of Love; and, believe me, it is better to be as
  you are, heart-free and happy, than as I am—eternally racked
  with doubting agonies!  Scaphio, the Princess Zara returns from
  England today!

  Scaphio:  My poor boy, I see it all.

  Phantis:  Oh! Scaphio, she is so beautiful.  Ah! you smile, for
  you have never seen her.  She sailed for England three months
  before you took office.

  Scaphio:  Now tell me, is your affection requited?

  Phantis:  I do not know—I am not sure.  Sometimes I think it
  is, and then come these torturing doubts!  I feel sure that she
  does not regard me with absolute indifference, for she could never
  look at me without having to go to bed with a sick headache.

  Scaphio:  That is surely something.  Come, take heart, boy!  you
  are young and beautiful.  What more could maiden want?

  Phantis:  Ah! Scaphio, remember she returns from a land where
  every youth is as a young Greek god, and where such beauty as I
  can boast is seen at every turn.

  Scaphio:  Be of good cheer!  Marry her, boy, if so your fancy
  wills, and be sure that love will come.

  Phantis:  (overjoyed)  Then you will assist me in this?

  Scaphio:  Why, surely!  Silly one, what have you to fear?  We have
  but to say the word, and her father must consent.  Is he not our
  very slave?  Come, take heart.  I cannot bear to see you sad.

  Phantis:  Now I may hope, indeed!  Scaphio, you have placed me on
  the very pinnacle of human joy!

                       DUET — Scaphio and Phantis.

  Scaphio:  Let all your doubts take wing—
                 Our influence is great.
            If Paramount our King
                 Presume to hesitate
                      Put on the screw,
                           And caution him
                      That he will rue
                           Disaster grim
                      That must ensue
                           To life and limb,
                      Should he pooh-pooh
                           This harmless whim.

  Both:     This harmless whim—this harmless whim,
            It is as I/you say, a harmless whim.

  Phantis: (dancing)  Observe this dance
                           Which I employ
                      When I, by chance
                           Go mad with joy.
                      What sentiment
                           Does this express?

  (Phantis continues his dance while Scaphio vainly endeavors to
  discover
       its meaning)

                      Supreme content
                           And happiness!

  Both:     Of course it does! Of course it does!
            Supreme content and happiness.

  Phantis:  Your friendly aid conferred,
                 I need no longer pine.
            I've but to speak the word,
                 And lo, the maid is mine!
                      I do not choose
                           To be denied.
                      Or wish to lose
                           A lovely bride—
                      If to refuse
                           The King decide,
                      The royal shoes
                           Then woe betide!

  Both:     Then woe betide—then woe betide!
            The Royal shoes then woe betide!

  Scaphio: (Dancing)  This step to use
                           I condescend
                      Whene'er I choose
                           To serve a friend.
                      What it implies
                           Now try to guess;

  (Scaphio continues his dance while Phantis is vainly endeavouring
  to discover its meaning)

                      It typifies
                           Unselfishness!

  Both: (Dancing)     Of course it does! Of course it does!
                           It typifies unselfishness.

                                           (Exeunt Scaphio and
  Phantis.)

  March.  Enter King Paramount, attended by guards and nobles, and
  preceded by girls dancing before him.

                                  CHORUS

                 Quaff the nectar—cull the roses—
                      Gather fruit and flowers in plenty!
                 For our king no longer poses—
                      Sing the songs of far niente!
                 Wake the lute that sets us lilting,
                      Dance a welcome to each comer;
                 Day by day our year is wilting—
                      Sing the sunny songs of summer!
                                               La, la, la, la!

                               SOLO — King.

            A King of autocratic power we—
                 A despot whose tyrannic will is law—
            Whose rule is paramount o'er land and sea,
                 A presence of unutterable awe!
            But though the awe that I inspire
            Must shrivel with imperial fire
                 All foes whom it may chance to touch,
            To judge by what I see and hear,
            It does not seem to interfere
                 With popular enjoyment, much.

  Chorus:        No, no—it does not interfere
                      With our enjoyment much.

            Stupendous when we rouse ourselves to strike,
                 Resistless when our tyrant thunder peals,
            We often wonder what obstruction's like,
                 And how a contradicted monarch feels.
            But as it is our Royal whim
            Our Royal sails to set and trim
                 To suit whatever wind may blow—
            What buffets contradiction deals
            And how a thwarted monarch feels
                 We probably will never know.

  Chorus:        No, no—what thwarted monarch feels,
                      You'll never, never know.

                        RECITATIVE — King.

            My subjects all, it is your wish emphatic
            That all Utopia shall henceforth be modelled
            Upon that glorious country called Great Britain—
            To which some add—but others do not—Ireland.

  Chorus:   It is!

  King:     That being so, as you insist upon it,
            We have arranged that our two younger daughters
            Who have been "finished" by an English Lady—
  (tenderly)      A grave and good and gracious English Lady—
            Shall daily be exhibited in public,
            That all may learn what, from the English standpoint,
            Is looked upon as maidenly perfection!
            Come hither, daughters!

  (Enter Nekaya and Kalyba. They are twins, about fifteen years old;
  they are very modest and demure in their appearance, dress and
  manner. They stand with their hands folded and their eyes cast
  down.)

                               CHORUS

            How fair! how modest! how discreet!
                 How bashfully demure!
                      See how they blush, as they've been taught,
                      At this publicity unsought!
                 How English and how pure!

                     DUET — Nekaya and Kalyba.

  Both:     Although of native maids the cream,
            We're brought up on the English scheme—
                 The best of all
                 For great and small
                      Who modesty adore.

  Nek:      For English girls are good as gold,
            Extremely modest (so we're told)
            Demurely coy—divinely cold—
                 And that we are—and more.

  Kal:      To please papa, who argues thus—
            All girls should mould themselves on us
                 Because we are
                 By furlongs far
                      The best of the bunch,
            We show ourselves to loud applause
            From ten to four without a pause—

  Nek:      Which is an awkward time because
                 It cuts into our lunch.

  Both:          Oh maids of high and low degree,
                 Whose social code is rather free,
                 Please look at us and you will see
                 What good young ladies ought to be!

  Nek:      And as we stand, like clockwork toys,
            A lecturer whom papa employs
                 Proceeds to praise
                 Our modest ways
                      And guileless character—

  Kal:      Our well-known blush—our downcast eyes—
            Our famous look of mild surprise.

  Nek:      (Which competition still defies)—
                      Our celebrated "Sir!!!"

  Kal:      Then all the crowd take down our looks
            In pocket memorandum books.
                 To diagnose
                 Our modest pose
                      The Kodaks do their best:

  Nek:      If evidence you would possess
            Of what is maiden bashfulness
            You need only a button press—

  Kal:                And we will do the rest.
  Enter Lady Sophy — an English lady of mature years and
  extreme gravity of demeanour and dress.  She carries a lecturer's
  wand in her hand.  She is led on by the King, who expresses great
  regard and admiration for her.

                      RECITATIVE — Lady Sophy

                 This morning we propose to illustrate
                 A course of maiden courtship, from the start
                 To the triumphant matrimonial finish.

  (Through the following song the two Princesses illustrate in
  gesture the description given by Lady Sophy.)

                            SONG — Lady Sophy

                           Bold-faced ranger
                           (Perfect stranger)
                 Meets two well-behaved young ladies.
                           He's attractive,
                           Young and active—
                 Each a little bit afraid is.
                           Youth advances,
                           At his glances
                 To their danger they awaken;
                           They repel him
                           As they tell him
                 He is very much mistaken.
                 Though they speak to him politely,
                 Please observe they're sneering slightly,
                 Just to show he's acting vainly.
                 This is Virtue saying plainly
                           "Go away, young bachelor,
                           We are not what you take us for!"
                 When addressed impertinently,
                 English ladies answer gently,
                           "Go away, young bachelor,
                           We are not what you take us for!"

                           As he gazes,
                           Hat he raises,
                 Enters into conversation.
                           Makes excuses—
                           This produces
                 Interesting agitation.
                           He, with daring,
                           Undespairing,
                 Give his card—his rank discloses
                           Little heeding
                           This proceeding,
                 They turn up their little noses.
                 Pray observe this lesson vital—
                 When a man of rank and title
                 His position first discloses,
                 Always cock your little noses.
                           When at home, let all the class
                           Try this in the looking glass.
                 English girls of well bred notions,
                 Shun all unrehearsed emotions.
                           English girls of highest class
                           Practice them before the glass.

                           His intentions
                           Then he mentions.
                 Something definite to go on—
                           Makes recitals
                           Of his titles,
                 Hints at settlements, and so on.
                           Smiling sweetly,
                           They, discreetly,
                 Ask for further evidences:
                           Thus invited,
                           He, delighted,
                 Gives the usual references:
                 This is business. Each is fluttered
                 When the offer's fairly uttered.
                 "Which of them has his affection?"
                 He declines to make selection.
                           Do they quarrel for his dross?
                           Not a bit of it—they toss!
                 Please observe this cogent moral—
                 English ladies never quarrel.
                           When a doubt they come across,
                           English ladies always toss.

                      RECITATIVE — Lady Sophy

                 The lecture's ended. In ten minute's space
                 'Twill be repeated in the market-place!

                       (Exit Lady Sophy, followed by Nekaya and
  Kalyba.)

  Chorus:        Quaff the nectar—cull the roses—
                      Bashful girls will soon be plenty!
                 Maid who thus at fifteen poses
                      Ought to be divine at twenty!

                                                  (Exeunt all but KING.)

  King:     I requested Scaphio and Phantis to be so good as to
  favor me with an audience this morning.  (Enter SCAPHIO and
  PHANTIS.) Oh, here they are!

  Scaphio:  Your Majesty wished to speak with us, I believe.
  You—you needn't keep your crown on, on our account, you
  know.

  King:     I beg your pardon.  (Removes it.)  I always forget that!
  Odd, the notion of a King not being allowed to wear one of his own
  crowns in the presence of two of his own subjects.

  Phantis:  Yes—bizarre, is it not?

  King:     Most quaint.  But then it's a quaint world.

  Phantis:  Teems with quiet fun.  I often think what a lucky thing
  it is that you are blessed with such a keen sense of humor!

  King:     Do you know, I find it invaluable.  Do what I will, I
  cannot help looking at the humorous side of things—for,
  properly considered, everything has its humorous side—even
  the Palace Peeper (producing it).  See here—"Another Royal
  Scandal," by Junius Junior.  "How long is this to last?" by Senex
  Senior.  "Ribald Royalty," by Mercury Major. "Where is the Public
  Exploder?" by Mephistopheles Minor.  When I reflect that all these
  outrageous attacks on my morality are written by me, at your
  command—well, it's one of the funniest things that have
  come within the scope of my experience.

  Scaphio:  Besides, apart from that, they have a quiet humor of
  their own which is simply irresistible.

  King:     (gratified)  Not bad, I think.  Biting, trenchant
  sarcasm—the rapier, not the bludgeon—that's my line.
  But then it's so easy—I'm such a good subject—a bad
  King but a good Subject—ha! ha!—a capital heading for
  next week's leading article!  (makes a note)  And then the
  stinging little paragraphs about our Royal goings-on with our
  Royal Second Housemaid—delicately sub-acid, are they not?

  Scaphio:  My dear King, in that kind of thing no one can hold a
  candle to you.

  Phantis:  But the crowning joke is the Comic Opera you've written
  for us—"King Tuppence, or A Good Deal Less than Half a
  Sovereign"—in which the celebrated English tenor, Mr.
  Wilkinson, burlesques your personal appearance and gives grotesque
  imitations of your Royal peculiarities.  It's immense!

  King:     Ye—es—That's what I wanted to speak to you
  about.  Now I've not the least doubt but that even that has its
  humorous side too—if one could only see it.  As a rule I'm
  pretty quick at detecting latent humor—but I confess I do
  not quite see where it comes in, in this particular instance. It's
  so horribly personal!

  Scaphio:  Personal?  Yes, of course it's personal—but
  consider the antithetical humor of the situation.

  King:     Yes.  I—I don't think I've quite grasped that.

  Scaphio:  No?  You surprise me.  Why, consider.  During the day
  thousands tremble at your frown, during the night (from 8 to 11)
  thousands roar at it.  During the day your most arbitrary
  pronouncements are received by your subjects with abject
  submission—during the night, they shout with joy at your
  most terrible decrees.  It's not every monarch who enjoys the
  privilege of undoing by night all the despotic absurdities he's
  committed during the day.

  King:     Of course!  Now I see it!  Thank you very much.  I was
  sure it had its humorous side, and it was very dull of me not to
  have seen it before.  But, as I said just now, it's a quaint
  world.

  Phantis:  Teems with quiet fun.

  King:     Yes.  Properly considered, what a farce life is, to be
  sure!

                               SONG — King.

            First you're born—and I'll be bound you
            Find a dozen strangers round you.
            "Hallo," cries the new-born baby,
            "Where's my parents? which may they be?"
                 Awkward silence—no reply—
                 Puzzled baby wonders why!
            Father rises, bows politely—
            Mother smiles (but not too brightly)—
            Doctor mumbles like a dumb thing—
            Nurse is busy mixing something.—
                 Every symptom tends to show
                 You're decidedly de trop—

  All:                Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!
                           Time's teetotum,
                                If you spin it,
                           Gives it quotum
                                Once a minute.
                           I'll go bail
                           You hit the nail,
                           And if you fail,
                                The deuce is in it!

  King:     You grow up and you discover
            What it is to be a lover.
            Some young lady is selected—
            Poor, perhaps, but well-connected.
                 Whom you hail (for Love is blind)
                 As the Queen of fairy kind.
            Though she's plain—perhaps unsightly,
            Makes her face up—laces tightly,
            In her form your fancy traces
            All the gifts of all the graces.
                 Rivals none the maiden woo,
                 So you take her and she takes you.

  All:      Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!
                 Joke beginning,
                      Never ceases
                 Till your inning
                      Time releases,
                 On your way
                 You blindly stray,
                 And day by day
                      The joke increases!

  King:     Ten years later—Time progresses—
            Sours your temper—thins your tresses;
            Fancy, then, her chain relaxes;
            Rates are facts and so are taxes.
                 Fairy Queen's no longer young—
                 Fairy Queen has got a tongue.
            Twins have probably intruded—
            Quite unbidden—just as you did—
            They're a source of care and trouble—
            Just as you were—only double.
                 Comes at last the final stroke—
                 Time has had its little joke!

  All:      Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!
                 Daily driven
                      (Wife as drover)
                 Ill you've thriven—
                      Ne'er in clover;
                 Lastly, when
                 Three-score and ten
                 (And not till then),
                      The joke is over!
            Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!
                 Then—and then
                      The joke is over!

                                           (Exeunt Scaphio and Phantis.)

  King:     (putting on his crown again)  It's all very well.  I
  always like to look on the humorous side of things; but I do not
  think I ought to be required to write libels on my own moral
  character.  Naturally, I see the joke of it—anybody
  would—but Zara's coming home today; she's no longer a child,
  and I confess I should not like her to see my Opera—though
  it's uncommonly well written; and I should be sorry if the Palace
  Peeper got into her hands—though it's certainly
  smart—very smart indeed.  It is almost a pity that I have to
  buy up the whole edition, because it's really too good to be lost.
  And Lady Sophy—that blameless type of perfect womanhood!
  Great Heavens, what would she say if the Second Housemaid business
  happened to meet her pure blue eye! (Enter Lady Sophy)

  Lady S.:  My monarch is soliloquizing.  I will withdraw.  (going)

  King:     No—pray don't go.  Now I'll give you fifty
  chances, and you won't guess whom I was thinking of.

  Lady S.:  Alas, sir, I know too well.  Ah! King, it's an old, old
  story, and I'm wellnigh weary of it!  Be warned in time—from
  my heart I pity you, but I am not for you! (going)

  King:     But hear what I have to say.

  Lady S.:  It is useless.  Listen.  In the course of a long and
  adventurous career in the principal European Courts, it has been
  revealed to me that I unconsciously exercise a weird and
  supernatural fascination over all Crowned Heads.  So irresistible
  is this singular property, that there is not a European Monarch
  who has not implored me, with tears in his eyes, to quit his
  kingdom, and take my fatal charms elsewhere.  As time was getting
  on it occurred to me that by descending several pegs in the scale
  of Respectability I might qualify your Majesty for my hand.
  Actuated by this humane motive and happening to possess
  Respectability enough for Six, I consented to confer
  Respectability enough for Four upon your two younger
  daughters—but although I have, alas, only Respectability
  enough for Two left, there is still, as I gather from the public
  press of this country (producing the Palace Peeper), a
  considerable balance in my favor.

  King:     (aside)  Damn!  (aloud)  May I ask how you came by this?

  Lady S.:  It was handed to me by the officer who holds the
  position of Public Exploder to your Imperial Majesty.

  King:     And surely, Lady Sophy, surely you are not so unjust as
  to place any faith in the irresponsible gabble of the Society
  press!

  Lady S.:  (referring to paper)  I read on the authority of Senex
  Senior that your Majesty was seen dancing with your Second
  Housemaid on the Oriental Platform of the Tivoli Gardens. That is
  untrue?

  King:     Absolutely.  Our Second Housemaid has only one leg.

  Lady S.:  (suspiciously)  How do you know that?

  King:     Common report.  I give you my honor.

  Lady S.:  It may be so.  I further read—and the statement is
  vouched for by no less an authority that Mephistopheles
  Minor—that your Majesty indulges in a bath of hot rum-punch
  every morning.  I trust I do not lay myself open to the charge of
  displaying an indelicate curiosity as to the mysteries of the
  royal dressing-room when I ask if there is any foundation for
  this statement?

  King:     None whatever.  When our medical adviser exhibits rum-
  punch it is as a draught, not as a fomentation.  As to our bath,
  our valet plays the garden hose upon us every morning.

  Lady S.:  (shocked)  Oh, pray—pray spare me these unseemly
  details. Well, you are a Despot—have you taken steps to slay
  this scribbler?

  King:     Well, no—I have not gone so far as that.  After
  all, it's the poor devil's living, you know.

  Lady S.:  It is the poor devil's living that surprises me.  If
  this man lies, there is no recognized punishment that is sufficiently
  terrible for him.

  King:     That's precisely it.  I—I am waiting until a
  punishment is discovered that will exactly meet the enormity of
  the case. I am in constant communication with the Mikado of Japan,
  who is a leading authority on such points; and, moreover, I have
  the ground plans and sectional elevations of several capital
  punishments in my desk at this moment.  Oh, Lady Sophy, as you are
  powerful, be merciful!

                       DUET — King and Lady Sophy.

  King:          Subjected to your heavenly gaze
                           (Poetical phrase),
                      My brain is turned completely.
                           Observe me now
                           No monarch I vow,
                                Was ever so afflicted!

  Lady S:        I'm pleased with that poetical phrase,
                           "A heavenly gaze,"
                      But though you put it neatly,
                           Say what you will,
                           These paragraphs still
                                Remain uncontradicted.

                 Come, crush me this contemptible worm
                           (A forcible term),
                      If he's assailed you wrongly.
                           The rage display,
                           Which, as you say,
                                Has moved your Majesty lately.

  King:          Though I admit that forcible term
                           "Contemptible worm,"
                 Appeals to me most strongly,
                      To treat this pest
                      As you suggest
                           Would pain my Majesty greatly.

  Lady S:             This writer lies!
  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,

  WILFRED                  Never flagging,

  POINT                    Wag-a-wagging,

  WILFRED                  Never flagging,

  BOTH                Never flagging,/Wag-a-wagging,
                      Wag-a-wagging,/Never flagging,
                      Never flagging,/Wag-a-wagging!

  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!

  POINT               What a tale of cock,

  WILFRED             What a tale of bull!

  POINT               What a tale of cock,

  WILFRED             What a tale of bull!

  BOTH           What a tale of cock and bull,
                      Cock and bull, cock and bull,
                 Heav'n defend us!
                 What a tale of cock and bull!

       [Exeunt together.

       [Enter FAIRFAX

  FAIRFAX   Two days gone, and no news of poor Fairfax. The dolts!
            They seek him everywhere save within a dozen yards of
            his dungeon. So I am free! Free, but for the cursed
            haste with which I hurried headlong into the bonds of
            matrimony with— Heaven knows whom! As far as I
            remember, she should have been young; but even had not
            her face been concealed by her kerchief, I doubt
            whether, in my then plight, I should have taken much
            note of her. Free? Bah! The Tower bonds were but a
            thread of silk compared with these conjugal fetters
            which I, fool that I was, placed upon mine own hands.
            From the one I broke readily enough— how to break the
            other!
                 No. 16. Free from his fetters grim
                              (BALLAD)
                              Fairfax

  FAIRFAX             Free from his fetters grim—
                      Free to depart;
                 Free both in life and limb—
                      In all but heart!
                 Bound to an unknown bride
                      For good and ill;
                 Ah, is not one so tied
                      A pris'ner still, a pris'ner still?
                 Ah, is not one so tied
                      A pris'ner still?

                 Free, yet in fetters held
                      Till his last hour,
                 Gyves that no smith can weld,
                      No rust devour!
                 Although a monarch's hand
                      Had set him free,
                 Of all the captive band
                      The saddest he, the saddest he!
                 Of all the captive band
                      The saddest, saddest he!

       [Enter SERGEANT MERYLL

  FAIRFAX   Well, Sergeant Meryll, and how fares thy pretty
            charge,Elsie Maynard?

  MERYLL    Well enough, sir. She is quite strong again, and
            leaves us to-night.

  FAIRFAX   Thanks to Dame Carruthers' kind nursing, eh?

  MERYLL    Aye, deuce take the old witch! Ah, 'twas but a sorry
            trick you played me, sir, to bring the fainting girl
            to me. It gave the old lady an excuse for taking up
            her quarters in my house, and for the last two years
            I've shunned her like the plague. Another day of it
            and she would have married me! [Enter DAME CARRUTHERS
            and KATE] Good Lord, here she is again! I'll e'en go.
            [Going]

  DAME      Nay, Sergeant Meryll, don't go. I have something of
            grave import to say to thee.

  MERYLL    [aside] It's coming.

  FAIRFAX   [laughing] I'faith, I think I', not wanted here.
            [Going]

  DAME      Nay, Master Leonard, I've naught to say to thy father
            that his son may not hear.

  FAIRFAX   [aside] True. I'm one of the family; I had forgotten!

  DAME      'Tis about this Elsie Maynard. A pretty girl, Master
            Leonard.

  FAIRFAX   Aye, fair as a peach blossom— what then?

  DAME      She hath a liking for thee, or I mistake not.

  FAIRFAX   With all my heart. She's as dainty a little amid as
            you'll find in a midsummer day's march.

  DAME      Then be warned in time, and give not thy heart to her.
            Oh, I know what it is to give my heart to one who will
            have none of it!

  MERYLL    [aside] Aye, she knows all about that.
            [Aloud] And why is my boy to take heed of her? She's
            a good girl, Dame Carruthers.

  DAME      Good enough, for aught I know. But she's no girl.
            She's a married woman.

  MERYLL    A married woman! Tush, old lady— she's promised to
            Jack Point, the Lieutenant's new jester.

  DAME      Tush in thy teeth, old man! As my niece Kate sat by
            her bedside to-day, this Elsie slept, and as she slept
            she moaned and groaned, and turned this way and that
            way— and, "How shall I marry one I have never seen?"
            quoth she— then, "An hundred crowns!" quoth she—
            then,"Is it certain he will die in an hour?" quoth
            she— then, "I love him not, and yet I am his wife,"
            quoth she! Is it not so, Kate?

  KATE      Aye, aunt, 'tis even so.

  FAIRFAX   Art thou sure of all this?

  KATE      Aye, sir, for I wrote it all down on my tablets.

  DAME      Now, mark my words: it was of this Fairfax she spake,
            and he is her husband, or I'll swallow my kirtle!

  MERYLL    [aside] Is it true, sir?

  FAIRFAX   [aside to MERYLL] True? Why, the girl was raving!
            [Aloud] Why should she marry a man who had but an hour
            to live?

  DAME      Marry? There be those who would marry but for a
            minute, rather than die old maids.

  MERYLL    [aside] Aye, I know one of them!

                     No. 17. Strange adventure!
                             (QUARTET)
        Kate, Dame, Carruthers, Fairfax and Sergeant Meryll

  ALL            Strange adventure! Maiden wedded
                      To a groom she's never seen—
                           Never, never, never seen!
                 Groom about to be beheaded,
                      In an hour on Tower Green!
                           Tower, Tower, Tower Green!
                 Groom in dreary dungeon lying,
                 Groom as good as dead, or dying,
                 For a pretty maiden sighing—
                      Pretty maid of seventeen!
                           Seven— seven— seventeen!

                 Strange adventure that we're trolling:
                      Modest maid and gallant groom—
                           Gallant, gallant, gallant groom!—
                 While the funeral bell is tolling,
                      Tolling, tolling, Bim-a-boom!
                           Bim-a, Bim-a, Bim-a-boom!
                 Modest maiden will not tarry;
                      Though but sixteen year she carry,
                 She must marry, she must marry,
                      Though the altar be a tomb—
                           Tower— Tower— Tower tomb!
                           Tower tomb! Tower tomb!
                      Though the altar be a tomb!
                           Tower, Tower, Tower tomb!

       [Exeunt DAME CARRUTHERS, MERYLL, and KATE.

  FAIRFAX   So my mysterious bride is no other than this winsome
            Elsie! By my hand, 'tis no such ill plunge in
            Fortune's lucky bag! I might have fared worse with my
            eyes open! But she comes. Now to test her principles.
            'Tis not every husband who has a chance of wooing his
            own wife!

       [Enter ELSIE

  FAIRFAX   Mistress Elsie!

  ELSIE     Master Leonard!

  FAIRFAX   So thou leavest us to-night?

  ELSIE     Yes. Master Leonard. I have been kindly tended, and I
            almost fear I am loth to go.

  FAIRFAX   And this Fairfax. Wast thou glad when he escaped?

  ELSIE     Why, truly, Master Leonard, it is a sad thing that a
            young and gallant gentleman should die in the very
            fullness of his life.

  FAIRFAX   Then when thou didst faint in my arms, it was for joy
            at his safety?

  ELSIE     It may be so. I was highly wrought, Master Leonard,
            and I am but a girl, and so, when I an highly wrought,
            I faint.

  FAIRFAX   Now, dost thou know, I am consumed with a parlous
            jealousy?

  ELSIE     Thou? And of whom?

  FAIRFAX   Why, of this Fairfax, surely!

  ELSIE     Of Colonel Fairfax?

  FAIRFAX   Aye. Shall I be frank with thee? Elsie— I love thee,
            ardently, passionately! [ELSIE alarmed and surprised]
            Elsie, I have loved thee these two days— which is a
            long time— and I would fain join my life to thine!

  ELSIE     Master Leonard! Thou art jesting!

  FAIRFAX   Jesting? May I shrivel into raisins if I jest! I love
            thee with a love that is a fever— with a love that is
            a frenzy— with a love that eateth up my heart! What
            sayest thou? Thou wilt not let my heart be eaten up?

  ELSIE     [aside] Oh, mercy! What am I to say?

  FAIRFAX   Dost thou love me, or hast thou been insensible these
            two days?

  ELSIE     I love all brave men.

  FAIRFAX   Nay, there is love in excess. I thank heaven there are
            many brave men in England; but if thou lovest them
            all, I withdraw my thanks.

  ELSIE     I love the bravest best. But, sir, I may not listen—
            I am not free— I— I am a wife!

  FAIRFAX   Thou a wife? Whose? His name? His hours are
            numbered—nay, his grave is dug and his epitaph set up!
            Come, his name?

  ELSIE     Oh, sir! keep my secret— it is the only barrier that
            Fate could set up between us. My husband is none other
            than Colonel Fairfax!

  FAIRFAX   The greatest villain unhung! The most ill-favoured,
            ill-mannered, ill-natured, ill-omened, ill-tempered
            dog in Christendom!

  ELSIE     It is very like. He is naught to me— for I never saw
            him. I was blindfolded, and he was to have died within
            the hour; and he did not die— and I am wedded to him,
            and my heart is broken!

  FAIRFAX   He was to have died, and he did not die? The
            scoundrel! The perjured, traitorous villain! Thou
            shouldst have insisted on his dying first, to make
            sure. 'Tis the only way with these Fairfaxes.

  ELSIE     I now wish I had!

  FAIRFAX   [aside] Bloodthirsty little maiden!
            [Aloud] A fig for this Fairfax! Be mine— he will never
            know— he dares not show himself; and if he dare, what
            art thou to him? Fly with me, Elsie— we will be
            married tomorrow, and thou shalt be the happiest wife
            in England!

  ELSIE     Master Leonard! I am amazed! Is it thus that brave
            soldiers speak to poor girls? Oh! for shame, for
            shame! I am wed— not the less because I love not my
            husband. I am a wife, sir, and I have a duty, and— oh,
            sir!— thy words terrify me— they are not honest— they
            are wicked words, and unworthy thy great and brave
            heart! Oh,shame upon thee! shame upon thee!

  FAIRFAX   Nay, Elsie, I did but jest. I spake but to try thee—

       [Shot heard

       [Enter SERGEANT MERYLL hastily

                 No. 18. Hark! What was that, sir?
                              (SCENE)
      Elsie, Phoebe, Dame Carruthers, Fairfax. Wilfred, Point,
                        Lieutenant, Sergeant

  MERYLL              Hark! What was that, sir?

  FAIRFAX                  Why, an arquebus—
                 Fired from the wharf, unless I much mistake.

  MERYLL         Strange— and at such an hour! What can it mean!

       [Enter CHORUS excitedly

  CHORUS              Now what can that have been—
                 A shot so late at night,
                      Enough to cause a fright!
                 What can the portent mean?

                 Are foemen in the land?
                      Is London to be wrecked?
                      What are we to expect?
                 What danger is at hand?
                      Let us understand
                      What danger is at hand!

       [LIEUTENANT enters, also POINT and WILFRED

  LIEUT.         Who fired that shot? At once the truth declare?

  WILFRED        My lord, 'twas I— to rashly judge forebear!

  POINT          My lord, 'twas he— to rashly judge forebear!

  WILFRED             Like a ghost his vigil keeping—

  POINT                    Or a spectre all-appalling—

  WILFRED             I beheld a figure creeping—

  POINT                    I should rather call it crawling—

  WILFRED             He was creeping—

  POINT                         He was crawling—

  WILFRED             He was creeping, creeping—

  POINT                         Crawling!

  WILFRED             He was creeping—

  POINT                         He was crawling—

  WILFRED             He was creeping, creeping—

  POINT                         Crawling!

  WILFRED             Not a moment's hesitation—
                      I myself upon him flung,
                 With a hurried exclamation
                      To his draperies I hung;
                 Then we closed with one another
                 In a rough-and-tumble smother;
                 Col'nel Fairfax and no other
                      Was the man to whom I clung!

  ALL            Col'nel Fairfax and no other,
                      Was the man to whom he clung!

  WILFRED             After mighty tug and tussle—

  POINT                    It resembled more a struggle—

  WILFRED             He, by dint of stronger muscle—

  POINT                    Or by some infernal juggle—

  WILFRED             From my clutches quickly sliding—

  POINT                    I should rather call it slipping—

  WILFRED             With a view, no doubt, of hiding—

  POINT                    Or escaping to the shipping—

  WILFRED             With a gasp, and with a quiver—

  POINT                    I'd describe it as a shiver—

  WILFRED             Down he dived into the river,
                      And, alas, I cannot swim.

  ALL            It's enough to make one shiver,
                 With a gasp, and with a quiver,
                 Down he dived into the river;
                      It was very brave of him!

  WILFRED             Ingenuity is catching;
                      With the view my King of pleasing,
                 Arquebus from sentry snatching—

  POINT                    I should rather call it seizing—

  WILFRED             With an ounce or two of lead
                 I dispatched him through the head!

  ALL            With an ounce or two of lead
                 He dispatched him through the head!

  WILFRED             I discharged it without winking,
                 Little time I lost in thinking,
                 Like a stone I saw him sinking—

  POINT                    I should say a lump of lead.

  ALL            He discharged it without winking,
                 Little time he lost in thinking.

  WILFRED             Like a stone I saw him sinking—

  POINT                    I should say a lump of lead.

  WILFRED             Like a stone, my boy, I said—

  POINT                    Like a heavy lump of lead.

  WILFRED             Like a stone, my boy, I said—

  POINT                    Like a heavy lump of lead.

  WILFRED             Anyhow, the man is dead,
                 Whether stone or lump of lead!

  ALL            Anyhow, the man is dead,
                 Whether stone or lump of lead!
                 Arquebus from sentry seizing,
                 With the view his King of pleasing,
                 Arquebus from sentry seizing,
                 With the view his King of pleasing,
                      Wilfred shot him through the head,
                      And he's very, very dead!

                 And it matters very little
                      Whether stone or lump of lead,
                 It is very, very certain that
                           he's very, very dead!

  LIEUT.         The river must be dragged— no time be lost;
                 The body must be found, at any cost.
                 To this attend without undue delay;
                 So set to work with what dispatch ye may!

       [Exit LIEUTENANT

  ALL            Yes, yes,
                 We'll set to work with what dispatch we may!

       [Men raise WILFRED, and carry him off on their shoulders.

  ALL            Hail the valiant fellow who
                 Did this deed of derring-do!
                 Honours wait on such an one;
                 By my head, 'twas bravely done,
                      'twas bravely done!
                 Now, by my head, 'twas bravely done!

       [Exeunt all but ELSIE, POINT, FAIRFAX, and PHOEBE.

  POINT     [to ELSIE, who is weeping] Nay, sweetheart, be
            comforted. This Fairfax was but a pestilent fellow,
            and, as he had to die, he might as well die thus as
            any other way. 'Twas a good death.

  ELSIE     Still, he was my husband, and had he not been, he was
            nevertheless a living man, and now he is dead; and so,
            by your leave, my tears may flow unchidden, Master
            Point.

  FAIRFAX   And thou didst see all this?

  POINT     Aye, with both eyes at once— this and that. The
            testimony of one eye is naught— he may lie. But when
            it is corroborated by the other, it is good evidence
            that none may gainsay. Here are both present in court,
            ready to swear to him!

  PHOEBE    But art thou sure it was Colonel Fairfax? Saw you his
            face?

  POINT     Aye, and a plaguey ill-favoured face too. A very hang-
            dog face— a felon face— a face to fright the headsman
            himself, and make him strike awry. Oh, a plaguey, bad
            face, take my word for it. [PHOEBE and FAIRFAX laugh]
            How they laugh! "Tis ever thus with simple folk— an
            accepted wit has but to say "Pass the mustard," and
            they roar their ribs out!

  FAIRFAX   [aside] If ever I come to life again, thou shalt pay
            for this, Master Point!

  POINT     Now, Elsie, thou art free to choose again, so behold
            me: I am young and well-favoured. I have a pretty wit.
            I can jest you, jibe you, quip you, crank you, wrack
            you, riddle you—

  FAIRFAX   Tush, man, thou knowest not how to woo. 'Tis not to be
            done with time-worn jests and thread-bare sophistries;
            with quips, conundrums, rhymes, and paradoxes. 'Tis an
            art in itself, and must be studied gravely and
            conscientiously.

              No. 19. A man who would woo a fair maid
                               (TRIO)
                     Elsie, Phoebe, and Fairfax

  FAIRFAX             A man who would woo a fair maid,
                 Should 'prentice himself to the trade;
                      And study all day,
                      In methodical way,
                 How to flatter, cajole, and persuade.

                 He should 'prentice himself at fourteen,
                 And practise from morning to e'en;
                      And when he's of age,
                      If he will, I'll engage,
                 He may capture the heart of a queen,
                      the heart of a queen!

  ALL                 It is purely a matter of skill,
                      Which all may attain if they will.
                           But every Jack
                           He must study the knack
                      If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
                      If he wants to make sure of his Jill!

  ELSIE               If he's made the best use of his time,
                 His twig he'll so carefully lime
                      That every bird
                      Will come down at his word,
                 Whatever its plumage and clime.

                 He must learn that the thrill of a touch
                 May mean little, or nothing, or much;
                      It's an instrument rare,
                      To be handled with care,
                 And ought to be treated as such,
                      Ought to be treated as such.

  ALL                 It is purely a matter of skill,
                      Which all may attain if they will:
                           But every Jack,
                           He must study the knack
                      If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
                      If he wants to make sure of his Jill!

  PHOEBE              Then a glance may be timid or free;
                 It will vary in mighty degree,
                      From an impudent stare
                      To a look of despair
                 That no maid without pity can see!
                 And a glance of despair is no guide—
                 It may have its ridiculous side;
                      It may draw you a tear
                      Or a box on the ear;
                 You can never be sure till you've tried!
                      Never be sure till you've tried!

  ALL            It is purely a matter of skill,
                 Which all may attain if they will:
                      But every Jack,
                      He must study the knack
                 If he wants to make sure of his Jill,
                 If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
                      But every Jack,
                      He must study the knack,
                      But every Jack,
                      Must study the knack
                 If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
                      Yes, every Jack,
                      Must study the knack
                 If he wants to make sure of his Jill!

  FAIRFAX   [aside to POINT] Now, listen to me— 'tis done thus—
            [aloud] Mistress Elsie, there is one here who, as thou
            knowest, loves thee right well!

  POINT     [aside] That he does— right well!

  FAIRFAX   He is but a man of poor estate, but he hath a loving,
            honest heart. He will be a true and trusty husband to
            thee, and if thou wilt be his wife, thou shalt lie
            curled up in his heart, like a little squirrel in its
            nest!

  POINT     [aside] 'Tis a pretty figure. A maggot in a nut lies
            closer, but a squirrel will do.

  FAIRFAX   He knoweth that thou wast a wife— an unloved and
            unloving wife, and his poor heart was near to
            breaking. But now that thine unloving husband is dead,
            and thou art free, he would fain pray that thou
            wouldst hearken unto him, and give him hope that thou
            wouldst one day be his!

  PHOEBE    [alarmed] He presses her hands— and whispers in her
            ear! Ods bodikins, what does it mean?

  FAIRFAX   Now, sweetheart, tell me— wilt thou be this poor
            goodfellow's wife?

  ELSIE     If the good, brave man— is he a brave man?

  FAIRFAX   So men say.

  POINT     [aside] That's not true, but let it pass.

  ELSIE     If the brave man will be content with a poor,
            penniless, untaught maid—

  POINT     [aside] Widow— but let that pass.

  ELSIE     I will be his true and loving wife, and that with my
            heart of hearts!

  FAIRFAX   My own dear love! [Embracing her]

  PHOEBE    [in great agitation] Why, what's all this? Brother—
            brother— it is not seemly!

  POINT     [also alarmed, aside] Oh, I can't let that pass!
            [Aloud] Hold, enough, Master Leonard! An advocate
            should have his fee, but methinks thou art over-paying
            thyself!

  FAIRFAX   Nay, that is for Elsie to say. I promised thee I would
            show thee how to woo, and herein lies the proof of the
            virtue of my teaching. Go thou, and apply it
            elsewhere! [PHOEBE bursts into tears]

                 No. 20. When a wooer goes a-wooing
                             (QUARTET)
                 Elsie, Phoebe, Fairfax, and Point

  ELSIE                    When a wooer Goes a-wooing,
                      Naught is truer Than his joy.

  FAIRFAX                  Maiden hushing All his suing—
                      Boldly blushing, bravely coy!
                           Bravely coy! Boldly blushing—

  ELSIE                    Boldly blushing, bravely coy!

  ALL                 Oh, the happy days of doing!
                      Oh, the sighing and the suing!
                      When a wooer goes a-wooing,
                           Oh the sweets that never cloy!

  PHOEBE [weeping]              When a brother leaves his sister
                           For another, sister weeps,
                           Tears that trickle,
                                Tears that blister—
                           'Tis but mickle Sister reaps!

  ALL                 Oh, the doing and undoing,
                      Oh, the sighing and the suing,
                      When a brother goes a-wooing,
                           And a sobbing sister weeps!

  POINT                    When a jester Is outwitted,
                      Feelings fester, Heart is lead!
                      Food for fishes Only fitted,
                      Jester wishes He was dead!
                      Food for fishes Only fitted,
                      Jester wishes He was dead!

  ALL                 Oh, the doing and undoing,
                      Oh, the sighing and the suing,
                      When a jester goes a-wooing,
                           And he wishes he was dead!

                      Oh, the doing and undoing,
                      Oh, the sighing and the suing,
                      When a jester goes a-wooing,
                           And he wishes he was dead,
                           And he wishes he was dead!

       [Exeunt all but PHOEBE, who remains weeping.

  PHOEBE    And I helped that man to escape, and I've kept his
            secret, and pretended that I was his dearly loving
            sister, and done everything I could think of to make
            folk believe I was his loving sister, and this is his
            gratitude! Before I pretend to be sister to anybody
            again, I'll turn nun, and be sister to everybody— one
            as much as another!

       [Enter WILFRED

  WILFRED   In tears, eh? What a plague art thou grizzling for
            now?

  PHOEBE    Why am I grizzling? Thou hast often wept for jealousy—
            well, 'tis for jealousy I weep now. Aye, yellow,
            bilious, jaundiced jealousy. So make the most of that,
            Master Wilfred.

  WILFRED   But I have never given thee cause for jealousy. The
            Lieutenant's cook-maid and I are but the merest
            gossips!

  PHOEBE    Jealous of thee! Bah! I'm jealous of no craven cock-
            on-a-hill, who crows about what he'd do an he dared!
            I am jealous of another and a better man than thou—
            set that down, Master Wilfred. And he is to marry
            Elsie Maynard, the pale little fool— set that down
            Master Wilfred— and my heart is wellnigh broken!
            There, thou hast it all! Make the most of it!

  WILFRED   The man thou lovest is to marry Elsie Maynard? Why,
            that is no other than thy brother, Leonard Meryll!

  PHOEBE    [aside] Oh, mercy! what have I said?

  WILFRED   Why, what matter of brother is this, thou lying little
            jade? Speak! Who is this man whom thou hast called
            brother, and fondled, and coddled, and kissed!— with
            my connivance, too! Oh Lord! with my connivance! Ha!
            should it be this Fairfax! [PHOEBE starts] It is! It
            is this accursed Fairfax! It's Fairfax! Fairfax, who—

  PHOEBE    Whom thou hast just shot through the head, and who
            lies at the bottom of the river!

  WILFRED   A— I— I may have been mistaken. We are but fallible
            mortals, the best of us. But I'll make sure— I'll make
            sure. [Going]

  PHOEBE    Stay— one word. I think it cannot be Fairfax— mind, I
            say I think— because thou hast just slain Fairfax. But
            whether he be Fairfax or no Fairfax, he is to marry
            Elsie— and— and— as thou hast shot him through the
            head, and he is dead, be content with that, and I will
            be thy wife!

  WILFRED   Is that sure?

  PHOEBE    Aye, sure enough, for there's no help for it! Thou art
            a very brute— but even brutes must marry, I suppose.

  WILFRED   My beloved. [Embraces her]

  PHOEBE    [aside] Ugh!

       [Enter LEONARD MERYLL, hastily

  LEONARD   Phoebe, rejoice, for I bring glad tidings. Colonel
            Fairfax's reprieve was signed two days since, but it
            was foully and maliciously kept back by Secretary
            Poltwhistle, who designed that it should arrive after
            the Colonel's death. It hath just come to hand, and it
            is now in the Lieutenant's possession!

  PHOEBE    Then the Colonel is free? Oh, kiss me, kiss me, my
            dear! Kiss me, again, and again!

  WILFRED   [dancing with fury] Ods bobs, death o' my life! Art
            thou mad? Am I mad? Are we all mad?

  PHOEBE    Oh, my dear— my dear, I'm well nigh crazed with joy!
            [Kissing LEONARD]

  WILFRED   Come away from him, thou hussy— thou jade— thou
            kissing, clinging cockatrice! And as for thee, sir,
            devil take thee, I'll rip thee like a herring for
            this! I'll skin thee for it! I'll cleave thee to the
            chine! I'll— oh! Phoebe! Phoebe! Who is this man?

  PHOEBE    Peace, fool. He is my brother!

  WILFRED   Another brother! Are there any more of them? Produce
            them all at once, and let me know the worst!

  PHOEBE    This is the real Leonard, dolt; the other was but his
            substitute. The real Leonard, I say— my father's own
            son.

  WILFRED   How do I know this? Has he "brother" writ large on his
            brow? I mistrust thy brothers! Thou art but a false
            jade!

       [Exit LEONARD.

  PHOEBE    Now, Wilfred, be just. Truly I did deceive thee
            before— but it was to save a precious life— and to
            save it, not for me, but for another. They are to be
            wed this very day. Is not this enough for thee? Come—
            I am thy Phoebe— thy very own— and we will be wed in
            a year— or two— or three, at the most. Is not that
            enough for thee?

       [Enter SERGEANT MERYLL, excitedly, followed by DAME
       CARRUTHERS, who listens, unobserved.

  MERYLL    Phoebe, hast thou heard the brave news?

  PHOEBE    [still in WILFRED's arms] Aye, father.

  MERYLL    I'm nigh mad with joy! [Seeing WILFRED] Why, what's
            all this?

  PHOEBE    Oh, father, he discovered our secret thorough my
            folly, and the price of his silence is—

  WILFRED   Phoebe's heart.

  PHOEBE    Oh, dear, no— Phoebe's hand.

  WILFRED   It's the same thing!

  PHOEBE    Is it?

       [Exeunt WILFRED and PHOEBE.

  MERYLL    [looking after them] "Tis pity, but the Colonel had to
            be saved at any cost, and as thy folly revealed our
            secret, thy folly must e'en suffer for it!

            [DAME CARRUTHERS comes down] Dame Carruthers!

  DAME      So this is a plot to shield this arch-fiend, and I
            have detected it. A word from me, and three heads
            besides his would roll from their shoulders!

  MERYLL    Nay, Colonel Fairfax is reprieved.
            [Aside] Yet, if my complicity in his escape were
            known! Plague on the old meddler! There's nothing for
            it—
            [aloud]— Hush, pretty one! Such bloodthirsty words ill
            become those cherry lips!
            [Aside] Ugh!

  DAME      [bashfully] Sergeant Meryll!

  MERYLL    Why, look ye, chuck— for many a month I've— I've
            thought to myself— "There's snug love saving up in
            that middle-aged bosom for some one, and why not for
            thee— that's me— so take heart and tell her— that's
            thee— that thou— that's me— lovest her— thee— and—
            and— well,I'm a miserable old man, and I've done it—
            and that's me!" But not a word about Fairfax! The
            price of thy silence is—

  DAME      Meryll's heart?

  MERYLL    No, Meryll's hand.

  DAME      It's the same thing!

  MERYLL    Is it?

                      No. 21. Rapture, rapture
                               (DUET)
                Dame Carruthers and Sergeant Meryll

  DAME           Rapture, rapture
                      When love's votary,
                 Flushed with capture,
                      Seeks the notary,
                           Joy and jollity
                           Then is polity;
                           Reigns frivolity!
                 Rapture, rapture!
                           Joy and jollity
                           Then is polity;
                           Reigns frivolity!
                 Rapture, rapture!

  MERYLL              Doleful, doleful!
                      When humanity
                 With its soul full
                      Of satanity,
                           Courting privity,
                           Down declivity
                           Seeks captivity!
                 Doleful, doleful!
                           Courting privity,
                           Down declivity
                           Seeks captivity!
                 Doleful, doleful!

  DAME           Joyful, joyful!
                      When virginity
                 Seeks, all coyful,
                      Man's affinity;
                           Fate all flowery,
                           Bright and bowery,
                           Is her dowery!
                 Joyful, joyful!
                           Fate all flowery,
                           Bright and bowery,
                           Is her dowery!
                 Joyful, joyful!

  MERYLL              Ghastly, ghastly!
                      When man, sorrowful,
                 Firstly, lastly,
                      Of to-morrow full,
                           After tarrying,
                           Yields to harrying—
                           Goes a-marrying.
                 Ghastly, ghastly!

  DAME           Joyful, joyful!

  MERYLL              Ghastly, ghastly!

  DAME           Joyful, joyful!

  MERYLL              Ghastly, ghastly!

            DAME                     MERYLL

       Joyful, joyful!               Ghastly, ghastly!
       Joyful, joyful, joyful!       Ghastly, ghastly,ghastly!

       Rapture, rapture              Doleful, doleful!
       When love's votary,           When humanity
       Flushed with capture,         With its soul full
       Seeks the notary,             Of satanity,
       Joy and jollity               Courting privity,
       Then is polity;               Down declivity
       Reigns frivolity!             Seeks captivity!
       Rapture, rapture!             Doleful, doleful!
       Joy and jollity               Courting privity,
       Then is polity;               Down declivity
       Reigns frivolity!             Seeks captivity!
       Rapture, rapture!             Doleful, doleful!
       Rapture, rapture!             Doleful, doleful!
       Rapture, rapture,             Doleful, doleful,
       Rapture, rapture!             Doleful, doleful!
       Joy and jollity               Courting privity,
       Then is polity;               Down declivity
       Reigns frivolity!             Seeks captivity!
       Rapture, rapture!             Doleful, doleful!

       [Exeunt DAME and SERGEANT MERYLL.

                No. 22. Comes the pretty young bride
                         (FINALE OF ACT II)
                              Ensemble

       [Enter YEOMEN and WOMEN

  WOMEN          Comes the pretty young bride,
                      a-blushing, timidly shrinking—
                 Set all thy fears aside—
                      cheerily, pretty young bride!
                 Brave is the youth to whom thy lot
                      thou art willingly linking!
                 Flower of valour he—
                      loving as loving can be!
                 Brightly thy summer is shining,
                 Brightly thy summer is shining,
                 Fair as the dawn, as the dawn of the day;
                      Take him, be true to him—
                      Tender his due to him—
                 Honour him, honour him, love and obey!

       [Enter DAME, PHOEBE, and ELSIE as Bride

  PHOEBE, ELSIE
      & DAME          'Tis said that joy in full perfection
                      Comes only once to womankind—
                 That, other times, on close inspection,
                      Some lurking bitter we shall find.
                 If this be so, and men say truly,
                 My day of joy has broken duly
                      With happiness my/her soul is cloyed—
                           With happiness is cloyed—
                      With happiness my/her soul is cloyed—
                      This is my/her joy-day
                                unalloyed, unalloyed,
                      This is my/her joy-day unalloyed!

  ALL            Yes, yes, with happiness her soul is cloyed!
                 This is her joy-day unalloyed!

       [Flourish. Enter LIEUTENANT

  LIEUT.         Hold, pretty one! I bring to thee
                 News— good or ill, it is for thee to say.
            Thy husband lives— and he is free,
                 And comes to claim his bride this very day!

  ELSIE          No! No! recall those words— it cannot be!

            [all four blocks below sung at once]

       KATE and CHORUS               DAME CARRUTHERS and PHOEBE

       Oh, day of terror!            Oh, day of terror!
            Oh, day of terror!            Oh, day of terror!
       Day of terror!                The man to whom thou art
            Day of tears!                      allied
       Day of terror!                Appears to claim thee
            Day of tears!                      as his bride.

       Who is the man who,           The man to whom thou art
            In his pride,                      allied
       Claims thee as his bride?     And claim me as his bride.
       Day of terror!                     Day of terror!
            Day of tears!                      Day of tears!

       LIEUT., MERYLL, and WILFRED                  ELSIE

       Come, dry these unbecoming tears,
       Most joyful tidings greet
            thine ears,
       Come, dry these unbecoming tears,       Oh, Leonard,
       Most joyful tidings greet                    Oh,Leonard,
            thine ears,                   Come thou to my side,

       The man to whom thou art allied         And claim me as
       Appears to claim thee                   thy loving bride!
            as his bride.                 Day of terror!
       The man to whom thou art allied         Day of tears!
       Appears to claim thee
            as his bride.

       [Flourish. Enter COLONEL FAIRFAX, handsomely dressed,and
       attended by other Gentlemen

  FAIRFAX        [sternly] All thought of Leonard
                                     Meryll set aside.
            Thou art mine own! I claim thee as my bride.

  ALL       Thou art his own!
                 Alas! he claims thee as his bride.

  ELSIE          A suppliant at thy feet I fall;
                      Thine heart will yield to pity's call!

  FAIRFAX        Mine is a heart of massive rock,
                      Unmoved by sentimental shock!

  ALL            Thy husband he!

  ELSIE          [aside] Leonard, my loved one— come to me.
                 They bear me hence away!
                      But though they take me far from thee,
                           My heart is thine for aye!

                      My bruised heart,
                      My broken heart,
                 Is thine, my own, for aye!
                 Is thine, is thine, my own,
                      Is thine, for aye!

  ELSIE          [To FAIRFAX] Sir, I obey!
                 I am thy bride;
                      But ere the fatal hour
                           I said the say
                      That placed me in thy pow'r
                           Would I had died!
                 Sir, I obey!
                      I am thy bride!

       [Looks up and recognizes FAIRFAX

                 Leonard!

  FAIRFAX                  My own!

  ELSIE                    Ah! [Embrace]

  ELSIE &
     FAIRFAX          With happiness my soul is cloyed,
                 This is our joy-day unalloyed!

  ALL                 Yes, yes!
                 With happiness their souls are cloyed,
                      This is their joy-day unalloyed!
                 With happiness their souls are cloyed,
                      This is their joy-day unalloyed,
                      Their joy-day unalloyed, unalloyed!

       [Enter JACK POINT

  POINT               Oh, thoughtless crew!
                      Ye know not what ye do!
                 Attend to me, and shed a tear or two—
                      For I have a song to sing, O!

  ALL                 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.

  ALL                 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!

  ALL                 What is 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,
                           [optional— nestling near,]
            Who loved her lord, and who laughed aloud
                      [optional— but dropped a tear]
            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!

  ALL                 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!

                      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!

                      Heighdy! heighdy!
                      Heighdy! heighdy!
                      Heighdy! heighdy!

       [FAIRFAX embraces ELSIE as POINT falls insensible at their
       feet.

                              CURTAIN





PATIENCE
  or

  Bunthorne's Bride
  Book by
  W.S. GILBERT

  Music by
  ARTHUR SULLIVAN
            First produced at the Opera Comique, London,
                         on April 23, 1881.
                              PATIENCE
                         DRAMATIS PERSONAE
  Officers of Dragoon Guards
       COLONEL CALVERLEY                 Baritone
       MAJOR MURGATROYD                  Baritone
       LIEUT. THE DUKE OF DUNSTABLE      Tenor

  REGINALD BUNTHORNE (A Fleshly Poet)    Light Baritone

  ARCHIBALD GROSVENOR (An Idyllic Poet)  Baritone

  MR. BUNTHORNE'S SOLICITOR              Non-singing

  Rapturous Maidens
       THE LADY ANGELA                   Mezzo-Soprano
       THE LADY SAPHIR                   Mezzo-Soprano
       THE LADY ELLA                     Soprano
       THE LADY JANE                     Contralto

  PATIENCE (A Dairy Maid)                Soprano

  Chorus of Rapturous MAIDENS and Officers of DRAGOON GUARDS
                ACT I—Exterior of Castle Bunthorne

                          ACT II—A Glade





ACT I
  [Scene:  Exterior of Castle Bunthorne, the gateway to which is
       seen, R.U.E., and is approached by a drawbridge over a moat.
       A rocky eminence R. with steps down to the stage.  In front
       of it, a rustic bench, on which ANGELA is seated, with ELLA
       on her left.  Young Ladies wearing aesthetic draperies are
       grouped about the stage from R. to L.C., SAPHIR being near
       the L. end of the group.  The Ladies play on lutes, etc., as
       they sing, and all are in the last stage of despair.]
                 No. 1. Twenty love-sick maidens we
                     (Opening Chorus and Solos)
                     Maidens, Angela, and Ella

  MAIDENS   Twenty love-sick maidens we,
                 Love-sick all against our will.
            Twenty years hence we shall be
                 Twenty love-sick maidens still!
            Twenty love-sick maidens we,
                 And we die for love of thee!
            Twenty love-sick maidens we,
                 Love-sick all against our will.
            Twenty years hence we shall be
                 Twenty love-sick maidens still!

  ANGELA    Love feeds on hope, they say, or love will die;

  MAIDENS        Ah, miserie!

  ANGELA    Yet my love lives, although no hope have I!

  MAIDENS        Ah, miserie!

  ANGELA    Alas, poor heart, go hide thyself away,
            To weeping concords tune thy roundelay!
            Ah, miserie!

  MAIDENS   All our love is all for one,
                 Yet that love he heedeth not,
            He is coy and cares for none,
                 Sad and sorry is our lot!
                          Ah, miserie!

  ELLA      Go, breaking heart,
                 Go, dream of love requited!
            Go, foolish heart,
                 Go, dream of lovers plighted;
            Go, madcap heart,
                 Go, dream of never waking;
            And in thy dream
                 Forget that thou art breaking!

  MAIDENS                 Ah, miserie!

  ELLA           Forget that thou art breaking!

  MAIDENS   Twenty love-sick maidens we,
                 Love-sick all against our will.
            Twenty years hence we shall be
                 Twenty love-sick maidens still.
                          Ah, miserie!

  ANGELA  There is a strange magic in this love of ours!  Rivals as
  we all are in the affections of our Reginald, the very
  hopelessness of our love is a bond that binds us to one another!

  SAPHIR  Jealousy is merged in misery.  While he, the very
  cynosure of our eyes and hearts, remains icy insensible — what
  have we to strive for?

  ELLA  The love of maidens is, to him, as interesting as the
  taxes!

  SAPHIR  Would that it were!  He pays his taxes.

  ANGELA  And cherishes the receipts!

  [Enter LADY JANE, L.U.E.]

  SAPHIR  Happy receipts!  [All sigh heavily]

  JANE [L.C., suddenly] Fools!  [They start, and turn to her]

  ANGELA  I beg your pardon?

  JANE  Fools and blind!  The man loves — wildly loves!

  ANGELA  But whom?  None of us!

  JANE  No, none of us.  His weird fancy has lighted, for the
  nonce, on Patience, the village milkmaid!

  SAPHIR  On Patience?  Oh, it cannot be!

  JANE  Bah!  But yesterday I caught him in her dairy, eating fresh
  butter with a tablespoon.  Today he is not well!

  SAPHIR  But Patience boasts that she has never loved — that love
  is, to her, a sealed book!  Oh, he cannot be serious!

  JANE  `Tis but a fleeting fancy — `twill quickly wear away.
  [aside, coming down-stage]  Oh, Reginald, if you but knew what a
  wealth of golden love is waiting for you, stored up in this
  rugged old bosom of mine, the milkmaid's triumph would be short
  indeed!

  [PATIENCE appears on an eminence, R.  She looks down with pity on
       the despondent Ladies.]
          No. 2. Still brooding on their mad infatuation!
                            (Recitative)
               Patience, Saphir, Angela, and Maidens

  PATIENCE  Still brooding on their mad infatuation!
                 I thank thee, Love, thou comest not to me!
            Far happier I, free from thy ministration,
                 Than dukes or duchesses who love can be!

  SAPHIR  [looking up]  `Tis Patience — happy girl!  Loved by a
  poet!

  PATIENCE  Your pardon, ladies.  I intrude upon you!  [Going]

  ANGELA  Nay, pretty child, come hither.  [PATIENCE descends.]  Is
  it true that you have never loved?

  PATIENCE  Most true indeed.

  SOPRANOS  Most marvelous!

  ALTOS  And most deplorable!
                I cannot tell what this love may be
                               (Solo)
                              Patience

  PATIENCE       I cannot tell what this love may be
  [L.C.]         That cometh to all but not to me.
                 It cannot be kind as they'd imply,
                 Or why do these ladies sigh?

                 It cannot be joy and rapture deep,
                 Or why do these gentle ladies weep?
                 It cannot be blissful as `tis said,
                 Or why are their eyes so wondrous red?

                      Though ev'rywhere true love I see
                      A-coming to all, but not to me,
                      I cannot tell what this love may be!
                          For I am blithe and I am gay,
                          While they sit sighing night and day.

            PATIENCE                          ALL

  For I am blithe and I am gay,     Yes, she is blithe and she is
                                         gay,
  Think of the gulf `twixt          Yes, she is blithe and
       them and me,                      she is gay,
  Think of the gulf `twixt them,    Yes, she is blithe and
  and me,                                and she is gay,
  Fal lal la la la la la la la la la la la la la
       la la la la la la la la la la la la,
  and miserie!                           Ah, miserie!

              [She dances across R. and back to R.C.]

  PATIENCE  If love is a thorn, they show no wit
            Who foolishly hug and foster it.
            If love is a weed, how simple they
            Who gather it, day by day!

            If love is a nettle that makes you smart,
            Then why do you wear it next your heart?
            And if it be none of these, say I,
            Ah, why do you sit and sob and sigh?

                 Though ev'rywhere true love I see
                 A-coming to all, but not to me,
                 I cannot tell what this love may be!
                      For I am blithe and I am gay,
                      While they sit sighing night and day.

            PATIENCE                          ALL

  For I am blithe and I             Yes, she is blithe and she is
       am gay,                           gay,
  Think of the gulf `twixt          Yes, she is blithe and she is
       them and me,                      gay,
  Think of the gulf `twixt          Yes, she is blithe and she is
       them and me,                      gay,
  Fal lal la la la la la la la la la la la la la
       la la la la la la la la la la la la,
       and miserie!                           Ah, miserie!

  ANGELA  Ah, Patience, if you have never loved, you have never
  known true happiness!  [All sigh.]

  PATIENCE [C.]  But the truly happy always seem to have so much on
  their minds.  The truly happy never seem quite well.

  JANE [coming L.C.]  There is a transcendentality of delirium —
  an acute accentuation of supremest ecstasy — which the earthy
  might easily mistake for indigestion.  But it is not indigestion
  — it is aesthetic transfiguration!  [to the others.]  Enough of
  babble.  Come!

  PATIENCE [stopping her as she turns to go up C.]  But stay, I
  have some news for you.  The 35th Dragoon Guards have halted in
  the village, and are even now on their way to this very spot.

  ANGELA  The 35th Dragoon Guards!

  SAPHIR  They are fleshly men, of full habit!

  ELLA  We care nothing for Dragoon Guards!

  PATIENCE  But, bless me, you were all engaged to them a year ago!

  SAPHIR  A year ago!

  ANGELA  My poor child, you don't understand these things.  A year
  ago they were very well in our eyes, but since then our tastes
  have been etherealized, our perceptions exalted.  [to the others]
  Come, it is time to lift up our voices in morning carol to our
  Reginald.  Let us to his door!

  [ANGELA leading, the Ladies go off, two and two, Jane last, over
       the drawbridge into the castle, singing refrain of "Twenty
       love-sick maidens", and, as before, accompanying themselves
       on harps, etc.]
                No. 2a. Twenty love-sick maidens we
                              (Chorus)
                              Maidens

  MAIDENS   Twenty love-sick maidens we,
                 Love-sick all against our will.
            Twenty years hence we shall be
                 Twenty love-sick maidens still!
                               Ah, miserie!

  [PATIENCE watches them in surprise, and, with a gesture of
       complete bafflement, climbs the rock and goes off the way
       she entered.]

  [The officers of the DRAGOON GUARDS enter, R., led by the MAJOR.
       They form their line across the front of the stage.]
                  No. 3. The soldiers of our Queen
                         (Chorus and Solo)
                        Dragoons and Colonel

  DRAGOONS       The soldiers of our Queen
                      Are linked in friendly tether;
                 Upon the battle scene
                      They fight the foe together.

                 There ev'ry mother's son
                      Prepared to fight and fall is;
                 The enemy of one
                      The enemy of all is!
                 The enemy of one
                      The enemy of all is!

            [On an order from the MAJOR they fall back.]

  [Enter the COLONEL.  All salute.]

  COLONEL   If you want a receipt for that popular mystery,
  [C.]           Known to the world as a Heavy Dragoon,

  DRAGOONS  [saluting] Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

  COLONEL   Take all the remarkable people in history,
                 Rattle them off to a popular tune.

  DRAGOONS       Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

  COLONEL   The pluck of Lord Nelson on board of the Victory—
                 Genius of Bismarck devising a plan—
            The humour of Fielding (which sounds contradictory)—
                 Coolness of Paget about to trepan—
            The science of Jullien, the eminent musico—
                 Wit of Macaulay, who wrote of Queen Anne—
            The pathos of Paddy, as rendered by Boucicault—
                 Style of the Bishop of Sodor and Man—
            The dash of a D'Orsay, divested of quackery—
            Narrative powers of Dickens and Thackeray—
            Victor Emmanuel — peak-haunting Peveril—
            Thomas Aquinas, and Doctor Sacheverell—
                 Tupper and Tennyson — Daniel Defoe—
                 Anthony Trollope and Mister Guizot!  Ah!

  DRAGOONS  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

            COLONEL                      DRAGOONS

  Take of these elements all        A Heavy Dragoon,
       that is fusible                   a Heavy Dragoon,
  Melt them all down in a           A Heavy Dragoon,
       pipkin or crucible—                   a Heavy Dragoon,
  Set them to simmer,               A Heavy Dragoon,
       and take off the scum,            a Heavy Dragoon,
  And a Heavy Dragoon               Is the residuum!
       is the residuum!

  COLONEL   If you want a receipt for this soldier-like paragon,
                 Get at the wealth of the Czar (if you can)—
            The family pride of a Spaniard from Aragon—
                 Force of Mephisto pronouncing a ban—
            A smack of Lord Waterford, reckless and rollicky—
                 Swagger of Roderick, heading his clan—
            The keen penetration of Paddington Pollaky—
                 Grace of an Odalisque on a divan—
            The genius strategic of Caesar or Hannibal—
            Skill of Sir Garnet in thrashing a cannibal—
            Flavour of Hamlet — the Stranger, a touch of him—
            Little of Manfred (but not very much of him)—
                 Beadle of Burlington — Richardson's show—
                 Mister Micawber and Madame Tussaud!  Ah!

  DRAGOONS  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

            COLONEL                      DRAGOONS

  Take of these elements all        A Heavy Dragoon,
       that is fusible                   a Heavy Dragoon,
  Melt them all down in a           A Heavy Dragoon,
       pipkin or crucible—                   a Heavy Dragoon,
  Set them to simmer,               A Heavy Dragoon,
       and take off the scum,            a Heavy Dragoon,
  And a Heavy Dragoon               Is the residuum!
       is the residuum!

  COLONEL  Well, here we are once more on the scene of our former
  triumphs.  But where's the Duke?

  [Enter DUKE, listlessly, and in low spirits.]

  DUKE  Here I am!  [Sighs.]

  COLONEL  Come, cheer up, don't give way!

  DUKE  Oh, for that, I'm as cheerful as a poor devil can be
  expected to be who has the misfortune to be a Duke, with a
  thousand a day!

  MAJOR  Humph!  Most men would envy you!

  DUKE  Envy me?  Tell me, Major, are you fond of toffee?

  MAJOR  Very!

  COLONEL  We are all fond of toffee.

  ALL  We are!

  DUKE  Yes, and toffee in moderation is a capital thing.  But to
  live on toffee — toffee for breakfast, toffee for dinner, toffee
  for tea — to have it supposed that you care for nothing but
  toffee, and that you would consider yourself insulted if anything
  but toffee were offered to you — how would you like that?

  COLONEL  I can quite believe that, under those circumstances,
  even toffee would become monotonous.

  DUKE  For "toffee" read flattery, adulation, and abject
  deference, carried to such a pitch that I began, at last, to
  think that man was born bent at an angle of forty-five degrees!
  Great heavens, what is there to adulate in me?  Am I particularly
  intelligent, or remarkably studious, or excruciatingly witty, or
  unusually accomplished, or exceptionally virtuous?

  COLONEL  You're about as commonplace a young man as ever I saw.

  ALL  You are!

  DUKE  Exactly!  That's it exactly!  That describes me to a T!
  Thank you all very much!  [Shakes hands with the Colonel]  Well,
  I couldn't stand it any longer, so I joined this second-class
  cavalry regiment.  In the army, thought I, I shall be
  occasionally snubbed, perhaps even bullied, who knows?  The
  thought was rapture, and here I am.

  COLONEL [looking off]  Yes, and here are the ladies!

  DUKE  But who is the gentleman with the long hair?

  COLONEL  I don't know.

  DUKE  He seems popular!

  COLONEL  He does seem popular!

  [The DRAGOONS back up R., watching the entrance of the Ladies.
       BUNTHORNE enters, L.U.E., followed by the Ladies, two and
       two, playing on harps as before.  He is composing a poem,
       and is quite absorbed.  He sees no one, but walks across the
       stage, followed by the Ladies, who take no notice of the
       DRAGOONS — to the surprise and indignation of those
       officers.]

  [Bunthorne, the Ladies following, comes slowly down L. and then
       crosses the stage to R.]
                     No. 4. In a doleful train
                         (Chorus and Solos)
       Maidens, Ella, Angela, Saphir, Dragoons, and Bunthorne

  MAIDENS   In a doleful train
                 Two and two we walk all day—
            For we love in vain!
                 None so sorrowful as they
                      Who can only sigh and say,
                      Woe is me, alackaday!
                      Woe is me, alackaday!

  DRAGOONS  Now is not this ridiculous, and is not this
                      preposterous?
                 A thorough-paced absurdity — explain it if you
                      can.
            Instead of rushing eagerly to cherish us and foster us,
                 They all prefer this melancholy literary man.
                      Instead of slyly peering at us,
                      Casting looks endearing at us,
            Blushing at us, flushing at us, flirting with a fan;
            They're actually sneering at us, fleering at us,
                      jeering at us!
                 Pretty sort of treatment for a military man!
            They're actually sneering at us, fleering at us,
                      jeering at us!
                 Pretty sort of treatment for a military man!

                          [Bunthorne, C.]

  ANGELA [R. of BUNTHORNE]  Mystic poet, hear our prayer,
                 Twenty love-sick maidens we—
            Young and wealthy, dark and fair,
                 All of county family.
                      And we die for love of thee—
                      Twenty love-sick maidens we!

  MAIDENS   Yes, we die for love of thee—
            Twenty love-sick maidens we!

  BUNTHORNE [crossing to L.] Though my book I seem to scan
                 In a rapt ecstatic way,
            Like a literary man
                 Who despises female clay,
            I hear plainly all they say,
            Twenty love-sick maidens they!

                     [BUNTHORNE crosses to C.]

  DRAGOONS [to each other]  He hears plainly all they say,
            Twenty love-sick maidens they!

  SAPHIR [L. of BUNTHORNE]  Though so excellently wise,
                 For a moment mortal be,
            Deign to raise thy purple eyes
                 From thy heart-drawn poesy.
            Twenty lovesick maidens see—
            Each is kneeling on her knee!

                            [All kneel.]

  MAIDENS   Twenty love-sick maidens see—
            Each is kneeling on her knee!

  BUNTHORNE [going R.]  Though, as I remarked before,
                 Any one convinced would be
            That some transcendental lore
                 Is monopolizing me,
            Round the corner I can see
            Each is kneeling on her knee!

  DRAGOONS  Round the corner he can see
            Each is kneeling on her knee!

       Now is not this ridiculous, and is not this preposterous?
            A thorough-paced absurdity — ridiculous!
                 preposterous!
            Explain it if you can.

            MAIDENS                      DRAGOONS

  In a doleful train           Now is not this ridiculous,
  Two and two we walk all day,      and is not this preposterous?
                               A thorough-paced absurdity—
  None so sorrowful as they         explain it if you can.

  For we love in vain!         Instead of rushing eagerly
  None so sorrowful as they         to cherish us and foster us,
  They all prefer this
       melancholy literary man.

  Who can only sigh and say,   Instead of slyly peering at us,
                                    Casting looks endearing at us,
                               Blushing at us, flushing at us,
                                    Flirting with a fan;

  Woe is me, alackaday!        They're actually sneering at us,
                                    fleering at us, jeering at us!
                               Pretty sort of treatment for
                                         a military man!

  Woe is me, alackaday!        They're actually sneering at us,
                                    fleering at us, jeering at us!
                               Pretty sort of treatment for
                                         a military man!

  Twenty love-sick maidens we, Now is not this ridiculous,
                                    and is not this preposterous?
                               They all prefer this melancholy
                                         literary man.

  And we die for love of thee! Now is not this ridiculous,
                                    and is not this preposterous?
                               They all prefer this melancholy,
  Yes, we die for love of thee!     melancholy literary man.
                               Now is not this ridiculous,
                                    and is not this preposterous?
  COLONEL [R.C.]  Angela!  what is the meaning of this?

  ANGELA [C.]  Oh, sir, leave us; our minds are but ill-tuned to
  light love-talk.

  MAJOR [L.C.]  But what in the world has come over you all?

  JANE [L.C.]  Bunthorne!  He has come over us.  He has come among
  us, and he has idealized us.

  DUKE  Has he succeeded in idealizing you?

  JANE  He has!

  DUKE  Good old Bunthorne!

  JANE  My eyes are open; I droop despairingly; I am soulfully
  intense; I am limp and I cling!

  [During this BUNTHORNE is seen in all the agonies of composition.
       The Ladies are watching him intently as he writhes.  At last
       he hits on the word he wants and writes it down.  A general
       sense of relief.]

  BUN.  Finished!  At last!  Finished!

  [He staggers, overcome with the mental strain, into the arms of
       the COLONEL.]

  COLONEL  Are you better now?

  BUN.  Yes — oh, it's you! — I am better now.  The poem is
  finished, and my soul has gone out into it.  That was all.  It
  was nothing worth mentioning, it occurs three times a day.

        [Sees PATIENCE, who has entered during this scene.]

       Ah, Patience!  Dear Patience!

              [Holds her hand; she seems frightened.]

  ANGELA  Will it please you read it to us, sir?

  SAPHIR  This we supplicate.  [All kneel.]

  BUN.  Shall I?

  DRAGOONS  No!

  BUN. [annoyed — to PATIENCE]  I will read it if you bid me!

  PATIENCE [much frightened]  You can if you like!

  BUN.  It is a wild, weird, fleshy thing; yet very tender, very
  yearning, very precious.  It is called, "Oh, Hollow!  Hollow!
  Hollow!"

  PATIENCE  Is it a hunting song?

  BUN.  A hunting song?  No, it is not a hunting song.  It is the
  wail of the poet's heart on discovering that everything is
  commonplace.  To understand it, cling passionately to one another
  and think of faint lilies.
       [They do so as he recites]

                      "OH, HOLLOW! HOLLOW! HOLLOW!"

            What time the poet hath hymned
            The writhing maid, lithe-limbed,
                 Quivering on amaranthine asphodel,
            How can he paint her woes,
            Knowing, as well he knows,
                 That all can be set right with calomel?

            When from the poet's plinth
            The amorous colocynth
                 Yearns for the aloe, faint with rapturous thrills,
            How can he hymn their throes
            Knowing, as well he knows,
                 That they are only uncompounded pills?

            Is it, and can it be,
            Nature hath this decree,
                 Nothing poetic in the world shall dwell?
            Or that in all her works
            Something poetic lurks,
                 Even in colocynth and calomel?
                          I cannot tell.

  [He goes off, L.U.E. All turn and watch him, not speaking until
       he has gone.]

  ANGELA  How purely fragrant!

  SAPHIR  How earnestly precious!

  PATIENCE  Well, it seems to me to be nonsense.

  SAPHIR  Nonsense, yes, perhaps — but oh, what precious nonsense!

  COLONEL  This is all very well, but you seem to forget that you
  are engaged to us.

  SAPHIR  It can never be.  You are not Empyrean.  You are not
  Della Cruscan.  You are not even Early English.  Oh, be Early
  English ere it is too late!

           [Officers look at each other in astonishment.]

  JANE [looking at uniform]  Red and Yellow!  Primary colors!  Oh,
  South Kensington!

  DUKE  We didn't design our uniforms, but we don't see how they
  could be improved!

  JANE  No, you wouldn't.  Still, there is a cobwebby grey  velvet,
  with a tender bloom like cold gravy, which, made Florentine
  fourteenth century, trimmed with Venetian leather and Spanish
  altar lace, and surmounted with something Japanese — it matters
  not what — would at least be Early English!  Come, maidens.

  [Exeunt Maidens, L.U.E., two and two, singing refrain of "Twenty
       love-sick maidens we".  PATIENCE goes off L.  The Officers
       watch the Ladies go off in astonishment.]
                No. 4a. Twenty love-sick maidens we
                              (Chorus)
                              Maidens

   [As the MAIDENS depart, the DRAGOONS spread across the stage.]

  MAIDENS   Twenty love-sick maidens we,
                 Love-sick all against our will.
            Twenty years hence we shall be
                 Twenty love-sick maidens still!
            Ah, miserie!

  DUKE  Gentlemen, this is an insult to the British uniform.

  COLONEL  A uniform that has been as successful in the courts of
  Venus as on the field of Mars!
              No. 5. When I first put this uniform on
                         (Solo and Chorus)
                        Colonel and Dragoons

              [The DRAGOONS form their original line.]

                          Song — COLONEL

       When I first put this uniform on,
            I said, as I looked in the glass,
                 "It's one to a million
                 That any civilian
            My figure and form will surpass.
                 Gold lace has a charm for the fair,
                 And I've plenty of that, and to spare,
                      While a lover's professions,
                      When uttered in Hessians,
            Are eloquent ev'rywhere!"
                          A fact that I counted upon,
                          When I first put this uniform on!

                         Chorus of DRAGOONS

            By a simple coincidence, few
                 Could ever have counted upon,
            The same thing occurred to me,
                 When I first put this uniform on!

  COL.      I said, when I first put it on,
                 "It is plain to the veriest dunce,
                 That every beauty
                 Will feel it her duty
            To yield to its glamour at once.
            They will see that I'm freely gold-laced
            In a uniform handsome and chaste"—
                 But the peripatetics
                 Of long-haired aesthetics
            Are very much more to their taste—
                 Which I never counted upon,
                 When I first put this uniform on!

  CHORUS    By a simple coincidence, few
                 Could ever have reckoned upon,
            I didn't anticipate that,
                 When I first put this uniform on!

                                [The DRAGOONS go off angrily, R.]

  [Enter BUNTHORNE, L.U.E., who changes his manner and becomes
       intensely melodramatic.]
                 No. 6. Am I alone and unobserved?
                       (Recitative and Solo)
                             Bunthorne

  BUN. [Up-stage, he looks off L. and R.]
            Am I alone,
                 And unobserved?  I am!
       [comes down]
            Then let me own
                 I'm an aesthetic sham!
       [and walks tragically to down-stage, C.]

            This air severe
                 Is but a mere
                          Veneer!

            This cynic smile
                 Is but a wile
                          Of guile!

            This costume chaste
                 Is but good taste
                          Misplaced!

                 Let me confess!
       A languid love for Lilies does not blight me!
       Lank limbs and haggard cheeks do not delight me!
            I do not care for dirty greens
                 By any means.
            I do not long for all one sees
                 That's Japanese.
            I am not fond of uttering platitudes
                 In stained-glass attitudes.
            In short, my mediaevalism's affectation,
            Born of a morbid love of admiration!

   [Tiptoes up-stage, looking L. and R., and comes back down, C.]

  If you're anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic line as a
       man of culture rare,
  You must get up all the germs of the transcendental terms, and
       plant them ev'rywhere.
  You must lie upon the daisies and discourse in novel phrases of
       your complicated state of mind,
  The meaning doesn't matter if it's only idle chatter of a
       transcendental kind.

                 And ev'ry one will say,
                 As you walk your mystic way,
  "If this young man expresses himself in terms too deep for me,
  Why, what a very singularly deep young man this deep young man
       must be!"

  Be eloquent in praise of the very dull old days which have long
       since passed away,
  And convince 'em, if you can, that the reign of good Queen Anne
       was Culture's palmiest day.
  Of course you will pooh-pooh whatever's fresh and new, and
       declare it's crude and mean,
  For Art stopped short in the cultivated court of the Empress
       Josephine.

                 And ev'ryone will say,
                 As you walk your mystic way,
  "If that's not good enough for him which is good enough for me,
  Why, what a very cultivated kind of youth this kind of youth must
       be!"

  Then a sentimental passion of a vegetable fashion must excite
       your languid spleen,
  An attachment a la Plato for a bashful young potato, or a not-
       too-French French bean!
  Though the Philistines may jostle, you will rank as an apostle in
       the high aesthetic band,
  If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily in your
       medieval hand.

                 And ev'ryone will say,
                 As you walk your flow'ry way,
  "If he's content with a vegetable love which would certainly not
       suit me,
  Why, what a most particularly pure young man this pure young man
       must be!"

    [At the end of his song, PATIENCE enters, L.  He sees her.]

  BUN.  Ah!  Patience, come hither.  [She comes to him timidly.]  I
  am pleased with thee.  The bitter-hearted one, who finds all else
  hollow, is pleased with thee.  For you are not hollow.  Are you?

  PATIENCE  No, thanks, I have dined; but — I beg your pardon — I
  interrupt you.  [Turns to go; he stops her.]

  BUN.  Life is made up of interruptions.  The tortured soul,
  yearning for solitude, writhes under them.  Oh, but my heart is
  a-weary!  Oh, I am a cursed thing!  [She attempts to escape.]
  Don't go.

  PATIENCE  Really, I'm very sorry.

  BUN.  Tell me, girl, do you ever yearn?

  PATIENCE  I earn my living.

  BUN. [impatiently]  No, no!  Do you know what it is to be heart-
  hungry?  Do you know what it is to yearn for the Indefinable, and
  yet to be brought face to face, dally, with the Multiplication
  Table?  Do you know what it is to seek oceans and to find
  puddles?  That's my case.  Oh, I am a cursed thing!  [She turns
  again.]  Don't go.

  PATIENCE  If you please, I don't understand you — you frighten me!

  BUN.  Don't be frightened — it's only poetry.

  PATIENCE  Well, if that's poetry, I don't like poetry.

  BUN. [eagerly]  Don't you?  [aside]  Can I trust her?  [aloud]
  Patience, you don't like poetry — well, between you and me, I
  don't like poetry.  It's hollow, unsubstantial — unsatisfactory.
  What's the use of yearning for Elysian Fields when you know you
  can't get `em, and would only let `em out on building leases if
  you had `em?

  PATIENCE  Sir, I—

  BUN.  Patience, I have long loved you.  Let me tell you a secret.
  I am not as bilious as I look.  If you like, I will cut my hair.
  There is more innocent fun within me than a casual spectator
  would imagine.  You have never seen me frolicsome.  Be a good
  girl — a very good girl — and one day you shall.  If you are
  fond of touch-and-go jocularity — this is the shop for it.

  PATIENCE  Sir, I will speak plainly.  In the matter of love I am
  untaught.  I have never loved but my great-aunt.  But I am quite
  certain that, under any circumstances, I couldn't possibly love you.

  BUN.  Oh, you think not?

  PATIENCE  I'm quite sure of it.  Quite sure.  Quite.

  BUN.  Very good.  Life is henceforth a blank.  I don't care what
  becomes of me.  I have only to ask that you will not abuse my
  confidence; though you despise me, I am extremely popular with
  the other young ladies.

  PATIENCE  I only ask that you will leave me and never renew the
  subject.

  BUN.  Certainly.  Broken-hearted and desolate, I go.  [Goes up-
  stage, suddenly turns and recites.]

            "Oh, to be wafted away,
                 From this black Aceldama of sorrow,
            Where the dust of an earthy to-day
                 Is the earth of a dusty to-morrow!"

       It is a little thing of my own.  I call it "Heart Foam".  I
  shall not publish it.  Farewell!  Patience, Patience, farewell!

                                                [Exit BUNTHORNE.]

  PATIENCE  What on earth does it all mean?  Why does he love me?
  Why does he expect me to love him?  [going R.]  He's not a
  relation!  It frightens me!

  [Enter ANGELA, L.]

  ANGELA  Why, Patience, what is the matter?

  PATIENCE  Lady Angela, tell me two things.  Firstly, what on
  earth is this love that upsets everybody; and, secondly, how is
  it to be distinguished from insanity?

  ANGELA  Poor blind child!  Oh, forgive her, Eros!  Why, love is
  of all passions the most essential!  It is the embodiment of
  purity, the abstraction of refinement!  It is the one unselfish
  emotion in this whirlpool of grasping greed!

  PATIENCE  Oh, dear, oh!  [beginning to cry]

  ANGELA  Why are you crying?

  PATIENCE  To think that I have lived all these years without
  having experienced this ennobling and unselfish passion!  Why,
  what a wicked girl I must be!  For it is unselfish, isn't it?

  ANGELA  Absolutely!  Love that is tainted with selfishness is no
  love.  Oh, try, try, try to love!  It really isn't difficult if
  you give your whole mind to it.

  PATIENCE  I'll set about it at once.  I won't go to bed until I'm
  head over ears in love with somebody.

  ANGELA  Noble girl!  But is it possible that you have never loved
  anybody?

  PATIENCE  Yes, one.

  ANGELA  Ah!  Whom?

  PATIENCE  My great-aunt—

  ANGELA  Great-aunts don't count.

  PATIENCE  Then there's nobody.  At least — no, nobody.  Not
  since I was a baby.  But that doesn't count, I suppose.

  ANGELA  I don't know.  Tell me about it.
               No. 7. Long years ago, fourteen maybe
                               (Duet)
                        Patience and Angela

  PATIENCE  [R.] Long years ago — fourteen, maybe,
            When but a tiny babe of four,
       Another baby played with me,
            My elder by a year or more;

       A little child of beauty rare,
            With marv'lous eyes and wondrous hair,
       Who, in my child-eyes, seemed to me
            All that a little child should be!

                     [She goes to ANGELA, L.C.]

            Ah, how we loved, that child and I!
                 How pure our baby joy!
            How true our love — and, by the bye,
                 He was a little boy!

  ANGELA    Ah, old, old tale of Cupid's touch!
       I thought as much — I thought as much!
            He was a little boy!

  PATIENCE  Pray don't misconstrue what I say—
       Remember, pray — remember, pray,
            He was a little boy!

  ANGELA    No doubt!  Yet, spite of all your pains,
       The interesting fact remains -
            He was a little boy!

  BOTH Ah, yes, in/No doubt, yet spite of all my/your pains,
       The interesting fact remains—
            He was a little boy!
            He was a little boy!

                                             [Exit ANGELA, L.]

  PATIENCE [R.C.]  It's perfectly dreadful to think of the
  appalling state I must be in!  I had no idea that love was a
  duty.  No wonder they all look so unhappy!  Upon my word, I
  hardly like to associate with myself.  I don't think I'm
  respectable.  I'll go at once and fall in love with... [As she
  turns to go up R., GROSVENOR enters, R.U.E.  She sees him and
  turns back.] a stranger!
                   No. 8. Prithee, pretty maiden
                               (Duet)
                       Patience and Grosvenor

  GROSVENOR [up-stage, R. ]  Prithee, pretty maiden — prithee,
  tell me true,
            (Hey, but I'm doleful, willow willow waly!)
       Have you e'er a lover a-dangling after you?
            Hey willow waly O!
       [coming down-stage]

                 I would fain discover
                 If you have a lover!
            Hey willow waly O!

  PATIENCE  [L.] Gentle sir, my heart is frolicsome and free—
            (Hey, but he's doleful, willow willow waly!)
       Nobody I care for comes a-courting me—
            Hey willow waly O!
                 Nobody I care for
                 Comes a-courting — therefore,
            Hey willow waly O!

  GROSVENOR [C.] Prithee, pretty maiden, will you marry me?
            (Hey, but I'm hopeful, willow willow waly!)
       I may say, at once, I'm a man of propertee—
            Hey willow waly O!
                 Money, I despise it;
                 Many people prize it,
            Hey willow waly O!

  PATIENCE  Gentle Sir, although to marry I design—
            (Hey, but he's hopeful, willow willow waly!)
       As yet I do not know you, and so I must decline.
            Hey willow waly O!
                 To other maidens go you—
                 As yet I do not know you,

  BOTH      Hey willow waly O!
  GROS.  Patience!  Can it be that you don't recognize me?

  PATIENCE [down L.]  Recognize you?  No, indeed I don't!

  GROS.  Have fifteen years so greatly changed me?

  PATIENCE [turning to him]  Fifteen years?  What do you mean?

  GROS.  Have you forgotten the friend of your youth, your
  Archibald? — your little playfellow?  Oh, Chronos, Chronos, this
  is too bad of you!  [Comes down, C.]

  PATIENCE  Archibald!  Is it possible?  Why, let me look!  It is!
  It is!  [takes his hands.]  It must be!  Oh, how happy I am!  I
  thought we should never meet again!  And how you've grown!

  GROS.  Yes, Patience, I am much taller and much stouter than I
  was.

  PATIENCE  And how you've improved!

  GROS. [dropping her hands and turning]  Yes, Patience, I am very
  beautiful!  [Sighs.]

  PATIENCE  But surely that doesn't make you unhappy?

  GROS.  Yes, Patience.  Gifted as I am with a beauty which
  probably has not its rival on earth, I am, nevertheless, utterly
  and completely miserable.

  PATIENCE  Oh — but why?

  GROS.  My child-love for you has never faded.  Conceive, then,
  the horror of my situation when I tell you that it is my hideous
  destiny to be madly loved at first sight by every woman I come
  across!

  PATIENCE  But why do you make yourself so picturesque?  Why not
  disguise yourself, disfigure yourself, anything to escape this
  persecution?

  GROS.  No, Patience, that may not be.  These gifts — irksome as
  they are — were given to me for the enjoyment and delectation of
  my fellow-creatures.  I am a trustee for Beauty, and it is my
  duty to see that the conditions of my trust are faithfully
  discharged.

  PATIENCE  And you, too, are a Poet?

  GROS.  Yes, I am the Apostle of Simplicity.  I am called
  "Archibald the All-Right" — for I am infallible!

  PATIENCE  And is it possible that you condescend to love such a
  girl as I?

  GROS.  Yes, Patience, is it not strange?  I have loved you with a
  Florentine fourteenth-century frenzy for full fifteen years!

  PATIENCE  Oh, marvelous!  I have hitherto been deaf to the voice
  of love.  I seem now to know what love is!  It has been revealed
  to me — it is Archibald Grosvenor!

  GROS.  Yes, Patience, it is!  [She goes into his arms.]

  PATIENCE [as in a trance]  We will never, never part!

  GROS.  We will live and die together!

  PATIENCE  I swear it!

  GROS.  We both swear it!

  PATIENCE [recoiling from him]  But — oh, horror!

  GROS.  What's the matter?

  PATIENCE  Why, you are perfection!  A source of endless ecstasy
  to all who know you!

  GROS.  I know I am.  Well?

  PATIENCE  Then, bless my heart, there can be nothing unselfish in
  loving you!

  GROS.  Merciful powers!  I never thought of that!

  PATIENCE  To monopolize those features on which all women love to
  linger!  It would be unpardonable!

  GROS.  Why, so it would!  Oh, fatal perfection, again you
  interpose between me and my happiness!

  PATIENCE  Oh, if you were but a thought less beautiful than you
  are!

  GROS.  Would that I were; but candour compels me to admit that
  I'm not!

  PATIENCE  Our duty is clear; we must part, and for ever!

  GROS.  Oh, misery!  And yet I cannot question the propriety of
  your decision.  Farewell, Patience!

  PATIENCE  Farewell, Archibald!  [they both turn to go.]
       [suddenly]  But stay!

  GROS.  Yes, Patience?

  PATIENCE  Although I may not love you — for you are perfection -
  - there is nothing to prevent your loving me.  I am plain,
  homely, unattractive!

  GROS.  Why, that's true!

  PATIENCE  The love of such a man as you for such a girl as I must
  be unselfish!

  GROS.  Unselfishness itself!
         No. 8a. Though to marry you would very selfish be
                               (Duet)
                       Patience and Grosvenor

  PATIENCE  Though to marry you would very selfish be—

  GROSVENOR      Hey, but I'm doleful — willow willow waly!

  PATIENCE  You may, all the same, continue loving me —

  GROSVENOR      Hey willow waly O!

  BOTH           All the world ignoring,
                 You'll/I'll go on adoring—
                 Hey, willow waly O!

           [They go off sadly — PATIENCE, L., GROSVENOR, R.U.E.]
                 No. 9. Let the merry cymbals sound
                         (Finale of Act I)
                              Ensemble

  [Enter BUNTHORNE, crowned with roses and hung about with
       garlands, and looking very miserable.  He is led by ANGELA
       and SAPHIR (each of whom holds an end of the rose-garland by
       which he is bound), and accompanied by procession of
       Maidens.  They are dancing classically, and playing on
       cymbals, double pipes, and other archaic instruments.  JANE
       last, with a very large pair of cymbals.]

  [The procession enters over the drawbridge, BUNTHORNE being
       preceded by the Chorus.  They go R. and round the stage,
       ending with BUNTHORNE down L.C., with ANGELA on his R.,
       SAPHIR on his L., JANE up C.]

  MAIDENS   Let the merry cymbals sound,
                 Gaily pipe Pandaean pleasure,
            With a Daphnephoric bound
                 Tread a gay but classic measure,
                 Tread a gay but classic measure.
            Ev'ry heart with hope is beating,
            For, at this exciting meeting
                 Fickle Fortune will decide
                 Who shall be our Bunthorne's bride!

            Ev'ry heart with hope is beating,
            For, at this exciting meeting
                 Fickle Fortune will decide
                 Who shall be our Bunthorne's bride!

            Let the merry cymbals sound,
            Gaily pipe Pandaean pleasure,
                 With a Daphnephoric bound
                 Tread a gay but classic, classic measure,
                 Tread a gay but classic, classic measure,
                 A classic measure.

  [DRAGOONS enter down R., forming a line diagonally up to up-
       stage, C.]

                         Chorus of Dragoons

            Now tell us, we pray you,
            Why thus they array you—
            Oh, poet, how say you—
                 What is it you've [optional — you have] done?

            Now tell us, we pray you,
            Why thus they array you—
            Oh, poet, how say you—
                 What is it you've done?
            Oh, poet, how say you—
                 What is it you've done?

  DUKE [C.] Of rite sacrificial,
            By sentence judicial,
            This seems the initial,
                 Then why don't you run?

  COLONEL   [R.C.] They cannot have led you
            To hang or behead you,
            Nor may they all wed you,
                 Unfortunate one!

  DRAGOONS  Then tell us, we pray you,
            Why thus they array you—
            Oh, poet, how say you—
                 What is it you've done?

  [optional — Enter SOLICITOR.]

  BUNTHORNE Heart-broken at my Patience's barbarity,
                 By the advice of my solicitor
            In aid — in aid of a deserving charity,
                 I've put myself up to be raffled for!

                   [He introduces his solicitor.]

  MAIDENS   By the advice of his solicitor,
                 He's put himself up to be raffled for!

  DRAGOONS  Oh, horror! urged by his solicitor,
                 He's put himself up to be raffled for!

  MAIDENS   Oh, heaven's blessing on his solicitor!

  DRAGOONS  A hideous curse on his solicitor!

  MAIDENS   Oh, heaven's blessing on his solicitor!

  DRAGOONS  A hideous curse on his solicitor!

            MAIDENS                      DRAGOONS

  A blessing on his solicitor!      A curse, a curse on his
                                    solicitor!

  [The SOLICITOR, horrified at the Dragoons' curse, rushes off, L.]

  COLONEL   [R.C. BUNTHORNE up L., surrounded by the Ladies.]
            Stay, we implore you,
                 Before our hopes are blighted;
            You see before you
                 The men to whom you're plighted!

  DRAGOONS  Stay, we implore you,
            For we adore you;
            To us you're plighted
            To be united—
            Stay, we implore you, we implore you!

  DUKE [C.] Your maiden hearts, ah, do not steel
            To pity's eloquent appeal,
            Such conduct British soldiers feel.
            [Aside ] Sigh, sigh, all sigh!  [They all sigh.]

            To foeman's steel we rarely see
            A British soldier bend the knee,
            Yet, one and all, they kneel to ye—
            [Aside ] Kneel, kneel, all kneel!  [They all kneel.]

            Our soldiers very seldom cry,
            And yet — I need not tell you why—
            A tear-drop dews each martial eye!
            [Aside ] Weep, weep, all weep!  [They all weep.]

  MAIDENS &
    DRAGOONS     Our/We soldiers very seldom cry,
                 And yet — they/we need not tell us/you why—

  ABOVE &
    DUKE         A tear-drop dews each eye/martial eye!
                      Weep, weep, all weep!

  [The Solicitor re-enters]

  BUNTHORNE [coming briskly forward, L.C.]
       Come, walk up, and purchase with avidity,
       Overcome your diffidence and natural timidity,
       Tickets for the raffle should be purchased with avidity,
            Put in half a guinea and a husband you may gain—
       Such a judge of blue-and-white and other kinds of pottery—
       From early Oriental down to modern terra-cottary—
       Put in half a guinea — you may draw him in a lottery—
            Such an opportunity may not occur again.

  MAIDENS   Such a judge of blue-and-white and other kinds of
                 pottery—
            From early Oriental down to modern terra cottary—
            Put in half a guinea — you may draw him in a lottery—
                 Such an opportunity may not occur again.

  [MAIDENS crowd up to purchase tickets.  DRAGOONS dance in single
       file round stage, to express their indifference.]

  DRAGOONS  We've been thrown over, we're aware
            But we don't care — but we don't care!
            There's fish in the sea, no doubt of it,
            As good as ever came out of it,
            And some day we shall get our share,
            So we don't care — so we don't care!

  [During this the GIRLS have been buying tickets, the Solicitor
       officiating.  At last JANE presents herself.  BUNTHORNE
       looks at her with aversion.]

  BUNTHORNE      And are you going a ticket for to buy?

  JANE [surprised]  Most certainly I am; why shouldn't I?

  BUNTHORNE [aside]   Oh, Fortune, this is hard! [aloud]
                      Blindfold your eyes;
                 Two minutes will decide who wins the prize!
            [GIRLS blindfold themselves.]
                         Chorus of MAIDENS

  Oh, Fortune, to my aching heart be kind;
  Like us, thou art blindfolded, but not blind!
  Just raise your bandage, thus, [Each uncovers one eye.] that you
       may see,
  And give the prize, and give the prize to me!  [They cover their
       eyes again.]

  BUNTHORNE  Come, Lady Jane, I pray you draw the first!

  JANE  [joyfully]  He loves me best!

  BUNTHORNE  [aside]  I want to know the worst!

  [JANE puts her hand in bag to draw ticket.  PATIENCE enters and
       prevents her.]

  PATIENCE  Hold!  Stay your hand!

  ALL  [uncovering their eyes]
       What means this interference?
       Of this bold girl I pray you make a clearance!

  JANE Away with you, away with you, and to your milk-pails go!

  BUNTHORNE [suddenly] She wants a ticket!  Take a dozen!

  PATIENCE       No!  If there be pardon in your breast
                 For this poor penitent,
            Who with remorseful thought opprest,
                 Sincerely doth repent;
            If you, with one so lowly, still
                 Desire to be allied,
            Then you may take me, if you will,
                 For I will be your bride!
            [She kneels to Bunthorne.]

  CHORUS         Oh, shameless one!
                      Oh, bold-faced thing!
                 Away you run—
                      Go, take your wing,
                 Oh, shameless one!
                      Oh, bold-faced thing!
                 Away you run—
                      Go, take your wing,
                 You shameless one!
                      You bold-faced thing!
            [Bunthorne raises her.]

  BUNTHORNE How strong is love!  For many and many a week,
            She's loved me fondly, and has feared to speak
            But Nature, for restraint too mighty far,
            Has burst the bonds of Art — and here we are!

  PATIENCE  No, Mister Bunthorne, no — you're wrong again;
            Permit me — I'll endeavour to explain!

            True love must single-hearted be—

  BUNTHORNE                         Exactly so!

  PATIENCE  From ev'ry selfish fancy free—

  BUNTHORNE                         Exactly so!

  PATIENCE  No idle thought of gain or joy
            A maiden's fancy should employ—
            True love must be without alloy,
            True love must be without alloy.

  MEN                               Exactly so!

  PATIENCE  Imposture to contempt must lead—

  COLONEL                           Exactly so!

  PATIENCE  Blind vanity's dissension's seed—

  MAJOR                             Exactly so!

  PATIENCE  It follows, then, a maiden who
            Devotes herself to loving you
            Is prompted by no selfish view,
            Is prompted by no selfish view!

  MEN                               Exactly so!

  SAPHIR    [coming L. of BUNTHORNE]
       Are you resolved to wed this shameless one?

  ANGELA    [coming R. of BUNTHORNE]
       Is there no chance for any other?

  BUNTHORNE [decisively] None!  [Embraces PATIENCE]

  [Exit PATIENCE and BUNTHORNE, L. ANGELA, SAPHIR, and ELLA take
       COLONEL, DUKE, and MAJOR down, while GIRLS gaze fondly at
       other Officers.]
                               SEXTET
            (ELLA, SAPHIR, ANGELA, DUKE, MAJOR, COLONEL)

            I hear the soft note of the echoing voice
                 Of an old, old love, long dead—
            It whispers my sorrowing heart "rejoice"—
                 For the last sad tear is shed—
            The pain that is all but a pleasure will change
                 For the pleasure that's all but pain,
            And never, oh never, this heart will range
                 From that old, old love again!
                      [GIRLS embrace OFFICERS]

  CHORUS    Yes, the pain that is all but a pleasure will change
                 For the pleasure that's all but pain,
            And never, oh never, our hearts will range
                 From that old, old love again!

            DUKE                    CHORUS

  Oh, never, oh never          Oh, never, oh never
       our hearts will range        our hearts, our hearts
                                    will range
  From that old, old love again!

       SEXTET                       CHORUS

  Oh, never, oh never,    Oh, never, oh never our hearts,
  our hearts will range   Oh, never, our hearts will range
  From that old, old      From that old, old love
       love again!             again!

  [The GIRLS embrace the Officers.  Re-enter PATIENCE and
       BUNTHORNE. L.]

  [As the DRAGOONS and GIRLS are embracing, enter GROSVENOR,
       R.U.E., reading.  He takes no notice of them, but comes
       slowly down, still reading.  The GIRLS are all strangely
       fascinated by him.  The Chorus divides, L. & R., and the
       GIRLS are held back by the DRAGOONS, as they attempt to
       throw themselves at GROSVENOR.  Fury of BUNTHORNE, who
       recognizes a rival.]

  ANGELA    [R.C.] But who is this, whose god-like grace
            Proclaims he comes of noble race?
            And who is this, whose manly face
            Bears sorrow's interesting trace?

  CHORUS    Yes, who is this, whose god-like grace
            Proclaims he comes of noble race?

  GROSVENOR [C.] I am a broken-hearted troubadour,
            Whose mind's aesthetic and whose tastes are pure!

  ANGELA    Aesthetic!  He is aesthetic!

  GROSVENOR           Yes, yes — I am aesthetic
                          And poetic!

  MAIDENS             Then, we love you!

    [They break away from the DRAGOONS, and kneel to GROSVENOR.]

  DRAGOONS  They love him!  Horror!

  BUNTHORNE and
    PATIENCE     They love him!  Horror!

  GROSVENOR  They love me!  Horror!  Horror!  Horror!

                                 ENSEMBLE
                     [all parts sung at the same time]

            PATIENCE                                   DUKE
  List, Reginald, while I confess          My jealousy I can't
  express,
     A love that's all unselfishness,          Their love they openly
  confess;
  That it's unselfish, goodness knows,     His shell-like ears he
  does not close
     You won't dispute it, I suppose!          To their recital of
  their woes.

      ELLA, SAPHIR, ANGELA, JANE                      CHORUS

  Oh, list while we a love confess         Oh, list while we/they a
  love confess
     That words imperfectly express.
  Those shell-like ears, ah, do not close  That words imperfectly
  express.
     To blighted love's distracting woes!

                                ENSEMBLE
                    [all parts sung at the same time]

     MAJOR, COLONEL & BUNTHORNE                    GROSVENOR

  My jealousy I can't express,             Again my cursed comeliness
     Their love they openly confess!          Spreads hopeless
  anguish and
                                                  distress,
  Their love they openly confess,          Spreads hopeless anguish
  and
     confess!                                     distress, distress!

             MAIDENS                                DRAGOONS

  Yes, those shell-like ears, ah, do       Yes, his shell-like ears
          not close                               he does not close
     To blighted love's distracting        To their recital of their
  woes!
          woes!
  To blighted love's distracting woes,     To their recital of their
  woes,
          their woes!                             their woes!
                                ENSEMBLE
                   [all parts sung at the same time]

           PATIENCE                                      DUKE

     Ah!                                   Ah!

  And I shall love you, I shall love.      His shell-like ears he
  does not close
     Your ears, ah, do not close!              To love's distracting
  woes!
  Thy shell-like ears, ah, do not close    Now is not this
  ridiculous,
                                                  and is not this
  preposterous?
  To blighted love's distracting woes!     A thorough-paced
  absurdity,
                                                  explain it if you
  can!
  Thy shell-like ears, ah, do not close    Now is not this
  ridiculous,
                                                  and is not this
  preposterous?
  To blighted love's distracting woes!     A thorough-paced
  absurdity,
                                                  explain it if you
  can!
  To love's, to love's distracting woes!   Explain, explain it if you
  can!
     love's woes!                                 you can!

      ELLA, SAPHIR, ANGELA, JANE                     MAIDENS

  Oh, list while we our love confess       Oh, list while we a love
  confess
     That words imperfectly express.           That words imperfectly
  express.
  Thy shell-like ears, ah, do not close    Those shell-like ears, ah,
  do not
                                                  close
     To love's distracting woes!           To love's distracting
  woes!
   Thy shell-like ears, ah, do not close   Those shell-like ears, ah,
  do not
                                                  close
     To blighted love's distracting woes!  To blighted love's
  distracting
                                                  woes!
  Thy shell-like ears, ah, do not close    Those shell-like ears, ah,
  do not
                                                  close
     To blighted love's distracting woes!  To blighted love's
  distracting
                                                  woes!
  To love's, to love's distracting woes!   To love's, to love's
  distracting
     love's woes                                  woes! love's woes!

           BUNTHORNE                               MAJOR and COLONEL

  My jealousy I can't express,             My jealousy I can't
  express,
     Their love they openly confess.            Their love they
  openly confess.
  His shell-like ears he does not close    His shell-like ears he
  does not close
     To love's distracting woes!                To love's distracting
  woes!
  His shell-like ears he does not close    Now is not this
  ridiculous,
                                                  and is not this
  preposterous?
     To blighted love's distracting        A thorough-paced
  absurdity,
          woes!                                   explain it if you
  can!
  His shell-like ears he does not close    Now is not this
  ridiculous,
                                                  and is not this
  preposterous?
     To blighted love's distracting        A thorough-paced
  absurdity,
          woes!                                   explain it if you
  can!
  To love's, to love's distracting woes!   Explain, explain it if you
  can!
     love's woes!                                 you can!

            GROSVENOR                                MALE CHORUS

  Again my cursed comeliness               Oh, list while they a love
  confess
     Spreads hopeless anguish and               That words
  imperfectly express.
          distress;
  Thine ears, oh, Fortune, do not close    His shell-like ears He
  does not close
     To love's distracting woes!                To love's distracting
  woes!
  My shell-like ears I can not close       Now is not this
  ridiculous,
                                                  and is not this
  preposterous?
     To blighted love's distracting        A thorough-paced
  absurdity,
          woes!                                   explain it if you
  can!
  My shell-like ears I can not close       Now is not this
  ridiculous,
                                                  and is not this
  preposterous?
     To blighted love's distracting        A thorough-paced
  absurdity,
          woes!                                   explain it if you
  can!
  To love's, to love's distracting woes!   Explain, explain it if you
  can!
     love's woes!                                 you can!
  [GROSVENOR makes a wild effort to escape up-stage; the GIRLS drag
       him back and kneel as the curtain falls.]

                            END OF ACT I





ACT II
  [SCENE — A wooded glade, with a view of open country in the
       background.  The chorus of MAIDENS is heard singing in the
       distance.  JANE is discovered leaning on a violoncello,
       which she has propped up on a tree-stump, L., and upon which
       she will presently accompany herself.  As the Chorus ends,
       she speaks.]

              No. 10. On such eyes as maidens cherish
                          (Opening Chorus)

                              Maidens

                 On such eyes as maidens cherish
                      Lest thy fond adorers gaze,
                 Or incontinently perish,
                      In their all-consuming rays!
                 Or incontinently perish,
                      In their all-consuming rays!
  JANE  The fickle crew have deserted Reginald and sworn allegiance
  to his rival, and all, forsooth, because he has glanced with
  passing favour on a puling milkmaid!  Fools!  Of that fancy he
  will soon weary — and then, I, who alone am faithful to him,
  shall reap my reward.  But do not dally too long, Reginald, for
  my charms are ripe, Reginald, and already they are decaying.
  Better secure me ere I have gone too far!
                  No. 11. Sad is that woman's lot
                       (Recitative and Solo)
                                Jane

  JANE      Sad is that woman's lot who, year by year,
            Sees, one by one, her beauties disappear,
            When Time, grown weary of her heart-drawn sighs,
            Impatiently begins to dim her eyes!
            Compelled, at last, in life's uncertain gloamings,
            To wreathe her wrinkled brow with well-saved
                 "combings,"
            Reduced, with rouge, lip-shade, and pearly grey,
            To "make up" for lost time as best she may!

            Silvered is the raven hair,
                 Spreading is the parting straight,
            Mottled the complexion fair,
                 Halting is the youthful gait,
            Hollow is the laughter free,
                 Spectacled the limpid eye,
            Little will be left of me
                 In the coming bye and bye!
            Little will be left of me
                 In the coming bye and bye!

            Fading is the taper waist,
                 Shapeless grows the shapely limb,
            And although severely laced,
                 Spreading is the figure trim!

            Stouter than I used to be,
                 Still more corpulent grow I—
            There will be too much of me
                 In the coming by and bye!
            There will be too much of me
                 In the coming by and bye!

                            [Exit, L., carrying her violoncello.]

  [Enter GROSVENOR, R., followed by MAIDENS, two and two, playing
       on archaic instruments as in Act I.  He is reading
       abstractedly, as BUNTHORNE did in Act I, and pays no
       attention to them.]
              No. 12. Turn, oh, turn in this direction
                              (Chorus)
                              Maidens

            Turn, oh, turn in this direction,
                 Shed, oh, shed a gentle smile,
            With a glance of sad perfection,
                 Our poor fainting hearts beguile!

            On such eyes as maidens cherish
                 Let thy fond adorers gaze,
            Or incontinently perish,
                 In their all-consuming rays!
            Or incontinently perish,
                 In their all-consuming rays!

  [GROSVENOR sits, R.; they group themselves around him in a
       formation similar to that which opens Act I.]

  GROS. [aside, not looking up]  The old, old tale.  How
  rapturously these maidens love me, and how hopelessly!  [He looks
  up.]  Oh, Patience, Patience, with the love of thee in my heart,
  what have I for these poor mad maidens but an unvalued pity?
  Alas, they will die of hopeless love for me, as I shall die of
  hopeless love for thee!

  ANGELA  Sir, will it please you read to us?

  GROS. [sighing]  Yes, child, if you will.  What shall I read?

  ANGELA  One of your own poems.

  GROS.  One of my own poems?  Better not, my child.  They will not
  cure thee of thy love.  [All sigh.]

  ELLA  Mr. Bunthorne used to read us a poem of his own every day.

  SAPHIR  And, to do him justice, he read them extremely well.

  GROS.  Oh, did he so?  Well, who am I that I should take upon
  myself to withhold my gifts from you?  What am I but a trustee?
  Here is a decalet — a pure and simple thing, a very daisy — a
  babe might understand it.  To appreciate it, it is not necessary
  to think of anything at all.

  ANGELA  Let us think of nothing at all!

  GROS. [reciting]

            Gentle Jane was as good as gold,
            She always did as she was told;
            She never spoke when her mouth was full,
            Or caught bluebottles their legs to pull,
            Or spilt plum jam on her nice new frock,
            Or put white mice in the eight-day clock,
            Or vivisected her last new doll,
            Or fostered a passion for alcohol.
       And when she grew up she was given in marriage
       To a first-class earl who keeps his carriage!

  GROS.  I believe I am right in saying that there is not one word
  in that decalet which is calculated to bring the blush of shame
  to the cheek of modesty.

  ANGELA  Not one; it is purity itself.

  GROS.  Here's another.

       Teasing Tom was a very bad boy,
       A great big squirt was his favourite toy
       He put live shrimps in his father's boots,
       And sewed up the sleeves of his Sunday suits;
       He punched his poor little sisters' heads,
       And cayenne-peppered their four-post beds;
       He plastered their hair with cobbler's wax,
       And dropped hot halfpennies down their backs.
            The consequence was he was lost totally,
            And married a girl in the corps de bally!

               [The MAIDENS express intense horror.]

  ANGELA  Marked you how grandly — how relentlessly — the damning
  catalogue of crime strode on, till Retribution, like a poised
  hawk, came swooping down upon the Wrong-Doer?  Oh, it was
  terrible!  [All shudder.]

  ELLA  Oh, sir, you are indeed a true poet, for you touch our
  hearts, and they go out to you!

  GROS. [aside]  This is simply cloying.  [aloud] Ladies, I am
  sorry to appear ungallant, but this is Saturday, and you have
  been following me about ever since Monday.  I should like the
  usual half-holiday.  I shall take it as a personal favour if you
  will kindly allow me to close early to-day.

  SAPHIR  Oh, sir, do not send us from you!

  GROS.  Poor, poor girls!  It is best to speak plainly.  I know
  that I am loved by you, but I never can love you in return, for
  my heart is fixed elsewhere!  Remember the fable of the Magnet
  and the Churn.

  ANGELA [wildly]  But we don't know the fable of the Magnet and
  the Churn!

  GROS.  Don't you?  Then I will sing it to you.
              No. 13. A magnet hung in a hardware shop
                         (Solo and Chorus)
                       Grosvenor and Maidens

  GROSVENOR      A magnet hung in a hardware shop,
                 And all around was a loving crop
                 Of scissors and needles, nails and knives,
                 Offering love for all their lives;
                 But for iron the magnet felt no whim,
                 Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him;
                 From needles and nails and knives he'd turn,
                 For he'd set his love on a Silver Churn!

  MAIDENS             A Silver Churn!

  GROSVENOR           A Silver Churn!

                          His most aesthetic,
                          Very magnetic
                      Fancy took this turn—
                          "If I can wheedle
                          A knife or a needle,
                      Why not a Silver Churn?"

  MAIDENS                 His most aesthetic,
                          Very magnetic
                      Fancy took this turn—
                          "If I can wheedle
                          A knife or a needle,
                      Why not a Silver Churn?"

  GROSVENOR [He rises, going C.]
            And Iron and Steel expressed surprise,
            The needles opened their well-drilled eyes,
            The penknives felt "shut up", no doubt,
            The scissors declared themselves "cut out",
            The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said,
            While ev'ry nail went off its head,
            And hither and thither began to roam,
            Till a hammer came up and drove them home.

  MAIDENS        It drove them home?

  GROSVENOR      It drove them home!

                      While this magnetic,
                      Peripatetic
                 Lover he lived to learn,
                      By no endeavour
                      Can magnet ever
                 Attract a Silver Churn!

  MAIDENS             While this magnetic,
                      Peripatetic
                 Lover he lived to learn,

  MAIDENS and
  GROSVENOR      By no endeavour
                      Can magnet ever
                 Attract a Silver Churn!

  [They go off in low spirits, R.U.E., gazing back at him from time
       to time.]

  GROS.  At last they are gone!  What is this mysterious
  fascination that I seem to exercise over all I come across?  A
  curse on my fatal beauty, for I am sick of conquests!  [Goes R.]

  [Enter PATIENCE, L. Stops L.C. on seeing GROSVENOR.]

  GROS. [Turns and sees her.]  Patience!

  PATIENCE  I have escaped with difficulty from my Reginald.  I
  wanted to see you so much that I might ask you if you still love
  me as fondly as ever?

  GROS.  Love you?  If the devotion of a lifetime— [seizing her
  hand.]

  PATIENCE [indignantly]  Hold!  Unhand me, or I scream!  [He
  releases her.]  If you are a gentleman, pray remember that I am
  another's!  [very tenderly.]  But you do love me, don't you?

  GROS.  Madly, hopelessly, despairingly!

  PATIENCE  That's right!  I never can be yours; but that's right!

  GROS.  And you love this Bunthorne?

  PATIENCE  With a heart-whole ecstasy that withers, and scorches,
  and burns, and stings!  [sadly]  It is my duty.

  GROS.  Admirable girl!  But you are not happy with him?

  PATIENCE  Happy?  I am miserable beyond description!

  GROS.  That's right!  I never can be yours; but that's right!

  PATIENCE  But go now.  I see dear Reginald approaching.
  Farewell, dear Archibald; I cannot tell you how happy it has made
  me to know that you still love me.

  GROS.  Ah, if I only dared— [advancing towards her]

  PATIENCE  Sir! this language to one who is promised to another!
  [tenderly]  Oh, Archibald, think of me sometimes, for my heart is
  breaking!  He is unkind to me, and you would be so loving!

  GROS.  Loving!  [advancing towards her]

  PATIENCE  Advance one step, and as I am a good and pure woman, I
  scream!  [tenderly]  Farewell, Archibald!  [sternly]  Stop there!
  [tenderly]  Think of me sometimes!  [angrily]  Advance at your
  peril!  Once more, adieu!

  [GROSVENOR sighs, gazes sorrowfully at her, sighs deeply, and
       exits, R.  She bursts into tears.]

  [Enter BUNTHORNE, followed by JANE.  He is moody and
       preoccupied.]
                         In a doleful train
                               (Solo)
                                Jane

  JANE      In a doleful train
                 One and one I walk all day;
            For I love in vain—
                 None so sorrowful as they
                      Who can only sigh and say,
                      Woe is me, alackaday!

  BUN. [seeing PATIENCE]  Crying, eh?  What are you crying about?

  PATIENCE  I've only been thinking how dearly I love you!

  BUN.  Love me!  Bah!

  JANE  Love him!  Bah!

  BUN. [to JANE]  Don't you interfere.

  JANE  He always crushes me!

  PATIENCE [going to him]  What is the matter, dear Reginald?  If
  you have any sorrow, tell it to me, that I may share it with you.
  [sighing]  It is my duty!

  BUN. [snappishly]  Whom were you talking with just now?

  PATIENCE  With dear Archibald.

  BUN. [furiously]  With dear Archibald!  Upon my honour, this is
  too much!

  JANE  A great deal too much!

  BUN. [angrily to JANE]  Do be quiet!

  JANE  Crushed again!

  PATIENCE  I think he is the noblest, purest, and most perfect
  being I have ever met.  But I don't love him.  It is true that he
  is devotedly attached to me, but I don't love him.  Whenever he
  grows  affectionate, I scream.  It is my duty!  [sighing]

  BUN.  I dare say!

  JANE  So do I!  I dare say!

  PATIENCE  Why, how could I love him and love you too?  You can't
  love two people at once!

  BUN.  Oh, can't you, though!

  PATIENCE  No, you can't; I only wish you could.

  BUN.  I don't believe you know what love is!

  PATIENCE [sighing]  Yes, I do.  There was a happy time when I
  didn't, but a bitter experience has taught me.

  [BUNTHORNE, noticing that JANE is not looking at him, goes off
       quickly up R.  She turns, sees him, and runs after him.]
                  No. 14. Love is a plaintive song
                               (Solo)
                              Patience

  PATIENCE  Love is a plaintive song,
                 Sung by a suff'ring maid,
            Telling a tale of wrong,
                 Telling of hope betrayed;
            Tuned to each changing note,
                 Sorry when he is sad,
            Blind to his ev'ry mote,
                 Merry when he is glad!
                 Merry when he is glad!
                      Love that no wrong can cure,
                          Love that is always new,
                      That is the love that's pure,
                          That is the love that's true!
                      Love that no wrong can cure,
                          Love that is always new,
                      That is the love that's pure,
                          That is the love, the love that's true!

            Rendering good for ill,
                 Smiling at ev'ry frown,
            Yielding your own self-will,
                 Laughing your teardrops down;
            Never a selfish whim,
                 Trouble, or pain to stir;
            Everything for him,
                 Nothing at all for her!
                 Nothing at all for her!
                      Love that will aye endure,
                          Though the rewards be few,
                      That is the love that's pure,
                          That is the love that's true!
                      Love that will aye endure,
                          Though the rewards be few,
                      That is the love that's pure,
                          That is the love, the love that's true!

  [At the end of ballad exit PATIENCE, L., weeping.  Enter
       BUNTHORNE, R., JANE following.]

  BUN.  Everything has gone wrong with me since that smug-faced
  idiot came here.  Before that I was admired — I may say, loved.

  JANE  Too mild — adored!

  BUN.  Do let a poet soliloquize!  The damozels used to follow me
  wherever I went; now they all follow him!

  JANE  Not all!  I am still faithful to you.

  BUN.  Yes, and a pretty damozel you are!

  JANE  No, not pretty.  Massive.  Cheer up!  I will never leave
  you, I swear it!

  BUN.  Oh, thank you! I know what it is; it's his confounded
  mildness.  They find me too highly spiced, if you please!  And no
  doubt I am highly spiced.

  JANE  Not for my taste!

  BUN. [savagely]  No, but I am for theirs.  But I will show the
  world I can be as mild as he.  If they want insipidity, they
  shall have it.  I'll meet this fellow on his own ground and beat
  him on it.

  JANE  You shall.  And I will help you.

  BUN.  You will?  Jane, there's a good deal of good in you, after
  all!
                No. 15. So go to him and say to him
                               (Duet)
                         Jane and Bunthorne

                              [Dance]

  JANE   So go to him and say to him, with compliment ironical—

  BUNTHORNE      Sing "Hey to you—
                      Good-day to you"—
                 And that's what I shall say!

  JANE "Your style is much too sanctified — your cut is too
            canonical"—

  BUNTHORNE      Sing "Bah to you—
                      Ha! ha! to you"—
                 And that's what I shall say!

  JANE "I was the beau ideal of the morbid young aesthetical—
            To doubt my inspiration was regarded as heretical—
            Until you cut me out with your placidity emetical."

  BUNTHORNE      Sing "Booh to you—
                      Pooh, pooh to you"—
                 And that's what I shall say!
                      Sing "Booh to you—
                      Pooh, pooh to you"—
                 And that's what I shall say!

            JANE                                BUNTHORNE

  Sing "Hey to you — good-day to you"—      "Hey,
  Sing "Bah to you — ha! ha! to you"—         Good-day
  Sing "Booh to you — pooh, pooh to you"—        Bah.
  And that's what you should say!               ha! ha!

  Sing "Hey to you — good-day to you"—      "Booh,
  Sing "Bah to you —ha! ha! to you"—               pooh-pooh
  Sing "Booh to you"—                             Bah.
  And that's what you should say!             And that's what I shall
  say!
       "Bah, bah,"                              "Booh, booh,"
  And that's what you should say!             And that's what I shall
  say!
       "Booh, booh,"                            "Bah, bah,"
  And that's what you should say!             And that's what I shall
  say!

  BUNTHORNE I'll tell him that unless he will consent to be more
                 jocular—

  JANE           Sing "Booh to you—
                      Pooh, pooh to you"—
                 And that's what you should say!

  BUNTHORNE To cut his curly hair, and stick an eyeglass in his
                 ocular—

  JANE           Sing "Bah to you—
                      Ha! ha! to you"—
                 And that's what you should say!

  BUNTHORNE To stuff his conversation full of quibble and of
                 quiddity,
                 To dine on chops and roly-poly pudding with
                      avidity—
                 He'd better clear away with all convenient
                      rapidity.

  JANE           Sing "Hey to you—
                      Good-day to you"—
                 And that's what you should say!

  BUNTHORNE      Sing "Booh to you—
                      Pooh, pooh to you"—
                 And that's what I shall say!

            JANE                                 BUNTHORNE

  Sing "Hey to you — good-day to you"—      "Hey,
  Sing "Bah to you — ha! ha! to you"—        Good-day
  Sing "Booh to you — pooh, pooh to you"—        Bah.
  And that's what you should say!               ha! ha!

  Sing "Hey to you — good-day to you"—      "Booh,
  Sing "Bah to you — ha! ha! to you"—         pooh-pooh
  Sing "Booh to you"—                             Bah.
  And that's what you should say!            And that's what I shall
  say!
       "Bah, bah,"                               "Booh, booh,"
  And that's what you should say!            And that's what I shall
  say!
       "Booh, booh,"                             "Bah, bah,"
  And that's what you should say!            And that's what I shall
  say!

                                                   [They dance off,
  L.]

  [Enter DUKE, COLONEL, and MAJOR, R.  They have abandoned their
       uniforms, and are dressed and made up in imitation of
       Aesthetics.  They have long hair, and other signs of
       attachment to the brotherhood.  As they sing they walk in
       stiff, constrained, and angular attitudes — a grotesque
       exaggeration of the attitudes adopted by BUNTHORNE and the
       young LADIES in Act I.]

  [Enter DUKE... enter MAJOR... enter COLONEL, Attitude.  They walk
       to C.]

               No. 16. It's clear that mediaeval art
                               (Trio)
                      Duke, Major, and Colonel

  ALL  It's clear that medieval art alone retains its zest,
       To charm and please its devotees we've done our little best.
       We're not quite sure if all we do has the Early English
            ring;
       But, as far as we can judge, it's something like this sort
            of thing:
                 You hold yourself like this, [attitude]
                 You hold yourself like that, [attitude]
       By hook and crook you try to look both angular and flat
            [attitude].
                 We venture to expect
                 That what we recollect,
       Though but a part of true High Art, will have its due
            effect.

       If this is not exactly right, we hope you won't upbraid;
       You can't get high Aesthetic tastes, like trousers, ready
            made.
       True views on Medieavalism Time alone will bring,
       But, as far as we can judge, it's something like this sort
            of thing:
                 You hold yourself like this, [attitude]
                 You hold yourself like that, [attitude]
       By hook and crook you try to look both angular and flat
            [attitude].
                 To cultivate the trim
                 Rigidity of limb,
       You ought to get a Marionette, and form your style on him
            [attitude].

              [Attitudes change in time to the music.]

  COLONEL [attitude]  Yes, it's quite clear that our only chance of
  making a lasting impression on these young ladies is to become as
  aesthetic as they are.

  MAJOR [attitude]  No doubt.  The only question is how far we've
  succeeded in doing so.  I don't know why, but I've an idea that
  this is not quite right.

  DUKE [attitude]  I don't like it.  I never did.  I don't see what
  it means.  I do it, but I don't like it.

  COLONEL  My good friend, the question is not whether we like it,
  but whether they do.  They understand these things — we don't.
  Now I shouldn't be surprised if this is effective enough — at a
  distance.

  MAJOR  I can't help thinking we're a little stiff at it.  It
  would be extremely awkward if we were to be "struck" so!

  COLONEL  I don't think we shall be struck so.  Perhaps we're a
  little awkward at first — but everything must have a beginning.
  Oh, here they come!  'Tention!

   [They strike fresh attitudes, as ANGELA and SAPHIR enter, L.]

  ANGELA [seeing them]  Oh, Saphir — see — see!  The immortal
  fire has descended on them, and they are of the Inner Brotherhood
  — perceptively intense and consummately utter.

  [The OFFICERS have some difficulty in maintaining their
       constrained attitudes.]

  SAPHIR [in admiration]  How Botticelian!  How Fra Angelican!  Oh,
  Art, we thank thee for this boon!

  COLONEL [apologetically]  I'm afraid we're not quite right.

  ANGELA  Not supremely, perhaps, but oh, so all — but!
  [to SAPHIR]  Oh, Saphir, are they not quite too all — but?

  SAPHIR  They are indeed jolly utter!

  MAJOR [in agony]  I wonder what the Inner Brotherhood usually
  recommend for cramp?

  COLONEL  Ladies, we will not deceive you.  We are doing this at
  some personal inconvenience with a view of expressing the
  extremity of our devotion to you.  We trust that it is not
  without its effect.

  ANGELA  We will not deny that we are much moved by this proof of
  your attachment.

  SAPHIR  Yes, your conversion to the principles of Aesthetic Art
  in its highest development has touched us deeply.

  ANGELA  And if Mr. Bunthorne should remain obdurate—

  SAPHIR  Which we have every reason to believe he will—

  MAJOR [aside, in agony]  I wish they'd make haste!  [The others
  hush him.]

  ANGELA  We are not prepared to say that our yearning hearts will
  not go out to you.

  COLONEL [as giving a word of command]  By sections of threes —
  Rapture!  [All strike a fresh attitude, expressive of aesthetic
  rapture.]

  SAPHIR  Oh, it's extremely good — for beginners it's admirable.

  MAJOR  The only question is, who will take who?

  COLONEL  Oh, the Duke chooses first, as a matter of course.

  DUKE  Oh, I couldn't thank of it — you are really too good!

  COLONEL  Nothing of the kind.  You are a great matrimonial fish,
  and it's only fair that each of these ladies should have a chance
  of hooking you.  It's perfectly simple.  Observe, suppose you
  choose Angela, I take Saphir, Major takes nobody.  [with
  increasing speed]  Suppose you choose Saphir, Major tales Angela,
  I take nobody.  Suppose you choose neither, I take Angela, Major
  takes Saphir.  Clear as day!

  [The officers, with obvious relief, abandon their aesthetic
       attitudes, and, with the Ladies, dance into position.  L. to
       R. 1st verse: Colonel with Angela; Duke with Saphir; Major
       alone.  2nd verse: Colonel alone; Angela with Duke; Saphir
       with Major.  3rd verse: Colonel with Saphir; Duke alone;
       Angela with Major.]
                No. 17. If Saphir I choose to marry
                              Quintet
              Duke, Colonel, Major, Angela, and Saphir

  DUKE      If Saphir I choose to marry,
                      I shall be fixed up for life;
                 Then the Colonel need not tarry,
                      Angela can be his wife.

  MAJOR          In that case unprecedented,
                      Single I shall live and die—
                 I shall have to be contented
                      With their heartfelt sympathy!

  ALL            He will have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!
                 In that case unprecedented,
                      Single he/I will/shall live and die—
                 He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!
                 He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!
                 He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!

  DUKE      If on Angy I determine,
                      At my wedding she'll appear,
                 Decked in diamond and ermine.
                      Major then can take Saphir!

  COLONEL        In that case unprecedented,
                      Single I shall live and die—
                 I shall have to be contented
                      With their heartfelt sympathy!

  ALL            He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!
                 In that case unprecedented,
                      Single he/I will/shall live and die—
                 He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!
                 He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!
                 He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!

  [Positions at beginning of Verse 3: L. to R., COLONEL, ANGELA,
       DUKE, SAPHIR, MAJOR]

  DUKE      After some debate internal,
                      If on neither I decide,
                 Saphir then can take the Colonel,

       [Hands her to the COLONEL.]

                      Angy be the Major's bride!

       [Hands her to the MAJOR.]

                 In that case unprecedented,
                      Single I shall live and die—
                 I shall have to be contented
                      With their heartfelt sympathy!

  ALL            He will have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!
                 In that case unprecedented,
                      Single he/I will/shall live and die—
                 He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!
                 He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!
                 He/I will/shall have to be contented
                      With our/their heartfelt sympathy!

  [They dance off, arm-in-arm, up-stage and off, L.U.E., the
       COLONEL leading with SAPHIR.]

  [Enter GROSVENOR, R.U.E.]

  GROS.  It is very pleasant to be alone.  It is pleasant to be
  able to gaze at leisure upon those features which all others may
  gaze upon at their good will!  [Looking at his reflection in
  hand-mirror.]  Ah, I am a very Narcissus!

  [Enter BUNTHORNE, L. moodily.]

  BUN.  It's no use; I can't live without admiration.  Since
  Grosvenor came here, insipidity has been at a premium.  Ah, he is
  there!

  GROS.  Ah, Bunthorne!  Come here — look!  Very graceful, isn't
  it!

  BUN. [taking hand-mirror]  Allow me; I haven't seen it.  Yes, it
  is graceful.

  GROS. [taking back the mirror)   Oh, good gracious! not that —
  this—

  BUN.  You don't mean that!  Bah!  I am in no mood for trifling.

  GROS.  And what is amiss?

  BUN.  Ever since you came here, you have entirely monopolized the
  attentions of the young ladies.  I don't like it, sir!

  GROS.  My dear sir, how can I help it?  They are the plague of my
  life.  My dear Mr. Bunthorne, with your personal disadvantages,
  you can have no idea of the inconvenience of being madly loved,
  at first sight, by every woman you meet.

  BUN.  Sir, until you came here I was adored!

  GROS.  Exactly — until I came here.  That's my grievance.  I cut
  everybody out!  I assure you, if you could only suggest some
  means whereby, consistently with my duty to society, I could
  escape these inconvenient attentions, you would earn my
  everlasting gratitude.

  BUN.  I will do so at once.  However popular it may be with the
  world at large, your personal appearance is highly objectionable
  to me.

  GROS.  It is?  [shaking his hand]  Oh, thank you! thank you!  How
  can I express my gratitude?

  BUN.  By making a complete change at once.  Your conversation
  must henceforth be perfectly matter-of-fact.  You must cut your
  hair, and have a back parting.  In appearance and costume you
  must be absolutely commonplace.

  GROS. [decidedly]  No.  Pardon me, that's impossible.

  BUN.  Take care!  When I am thwarted I am very terrible.

  GROS.  I can't help that.  I am a man with a mission.  And that
  mission must be fulfilled.

  BUN.  I don't think you quite appreciate the consequences of
  thwarting me.

  GROS.  I don't care what they are.

  BUN.  Suppose — I won't go so far as to say that I will do it —
  but suppose for one moment I were to curse you?  [GROSVENOR
  quails.]  Ah!  Very well.  Take care.

  GROS.  But surely you would never do that?  [In great alarm]

  BUN.  I don't know.  It would be an extreme measure, no doubt.
  Still—

  GROS. [wildly]  But you would not do it — I am sure you would
  not. [Throwing himself at BUNTHORNE's knees, and clinging to him]
  Oh, reflect, reflect!  You had a mother once.

  BUN.  Never!

  GROS.  Then you had an aunt!  [BUNTHORNE affected.]  Ah!  I see
  you had!  By the memory of that aunt, I implore you to pause ere
  you resort to this last fearful expedient.  Oh, Mr. Bunthorne,
  reflect, reflect!  [Weeping]

  BUN. [aside, after a struggle with himself]  I must not allow
  myself to be unmanned!  [aloud]  It is useless.  Consent at once,
  or may a nephew's curse—

  GROS.  Hold!  Are you absolutely resolved?

  BUN.  Absolutely.

  GROS.  Will nothing shake you?

  BUN.  Nothing.  I am adamant.

  GROS.  Very good.  [rising]  Then I yield.

  BUN.  Ha!  You swear it?

  GROS.  I do, cheerfully.  I have long wished for a reasonable
  pretext for such a change as you suggest.  It has come at last.
  I do it on compulsion!

  BUN.  Victory!  I triumph!
                   No. 18. When I go out of door
                               (Duet)
                      Bunthorne and Grosvenor

  [Each one dances around the stage while the other is singing his
       solo verses.]

  BUNTHORNE      When I go out of door,
                 Of damozels a score
                      (All sighing and burning,
                      And clinging and yearning)
                 Will follow me as before.

                 I shall, with cultured taste,
                 Distinguish gems from paste,
                      And "High diddle diddle"
                      Will rank as an idyll,
                 If I pronounce it chaste!

  BOTH                A most intense young man,
                      A soulful-eyed young man,
                 An ultra-poetical, super-aesthetical,
                      Out-of-the-way young man!

  GROSVENOR      Conceive me, if you can,
                 An ev'ryday young man:
                      A commonplace type,
                      With a stick and a pipe,
                 And a half-bred black-and-tan;
                      Who thinks suburban "hops"
                      More fun than "Monday Pops,"—
                 Who's fond of his dinner,
                 And doesn't get thinner
                      On bottled beer and chops.

  BOTH                A commonplace young man,
                      A matter-of-fact young man—
                 A steady and stolidy, jolly Bank-holiday,
                      Every-day young man!

  BUNTHORNE           A Japanese young man—
                      A blue-and-white young man—
                 Francesca di Rimini, miminy, piminy,
                      Je-ne-sais-quoi young man!

  GROSVENOR           A Chancery lane young man—
                      A Somerset House young man,—
                 A very delectable, highly respectable
                      Three-penny-bus young man!

  BUNTHORNE           A pallid and thin young man—
                      A haggard and lank young man,
                 A greenery-yallery, Grosvenor Gallery,
                      Foot-in-the-grave young man!

  GROSVENOR           A Sewell and Cross young man,
                      A Howell & James young man,
                 A pushing young particle — "What's the next
                          article?"—
                      Waterloo House young man!

       BUNTHORNE                             GROSVENOR

  Conceive me, if you can,                   Conceive me, if you can,
  A crotchety, cracked young man,         A matter-of-fact young man,
  An ultra-poetical, super-aesthetical,      An alphabetical,
                                                 arithmetical,
  Out-of-the way young man!               Every day young man!

  Conceive me, if you can,                   Conceive me, if you can,
  A crotchety, cracked young man,         A matter-of-fact young man,
  An ultra-poetical, super-aesthetical,      An alphabetical,
                                                 arithmetical,
  Out-of-the way young man!               Every day young man!

                                  [GROSVENOR dances off, L.U.E. ]

  BUN.  It is all right!  I have committed my last act of ill-
  nature, and henceforth I'm a changed character.

  [Dances about stage, humming refrain of last air.  Enter
       PATIENCE, L.  She gazes in astonishment at him.]

  PATIENCE  Reginald!  Dancing!  And — what in the world is the
  matter with you?

  BUN.  Patience, I'm a changed man.  Hitherto I've been gloomy,
  moody, fitful — uncertain in temper and selfish in disposition—

  PATIENCE  You have, indeed!  [sighing]

  BUN.  All that is changed.  I have reformed.  I have modelled
  myself upon Mr. Grosvenor.  Henceforth I am mildly cheerful.  My
  conversation will blend amusement with instruction.  I shall
  still be aesthetic; but my aestheticism will be of the most
  pastoral kind.

  PATIENCE  Oh, Reginald!  Is all this true?

  BUN.  Quite true.  Observe how amiable I am.  [Assuming a fixed
  smile]

  PATIENCE  But, Reginald, how long will this last?

  BUN.  With occasional intervals for rest and refreshment, as long
  as I do.

  PATIENCE  Oh, Reginald, I'm so happy!  Oh, dear, dear Reginald, I
  cannot express the joy I feel at this change.  It will no longer
  be a duty to love you, but a pleasure — a rapture — an ecstasy!

  BUN.  My darling!  [embracing her]

  PATIENCE  But — oh, horror!  [recoiling from him]

  BUN.  What's the matter?

  PATIENCE  Is it quite certain that you have absolutely reformed -
  - that you are henceforth a perfect being — utterly free from
  defect of any kind?

  BUN.  It is quite certain.  I have sworn it.

  PATIENCE  Then I never can be yours!  [crossing to R.C.]

  BUN.  Why not?

  PATIENCE  Love, to be pure, must be absolutely unselfish, and
  there can be nothing unselfish in loving so perfect a being as
  you have now become!

  BUN.  But, stop a bit.  I don't want to change — I'll relapse —
  I'll be as I was — interrupted!

  [Enter GROSVENOR, L.U.E., followed by all the young LADIES, who
       are followed by Chorus of DRAGOONS.  He has had his hair
       cut, and is dressed in an ordinary suit and a bowler hat.
       They all dance cheerfully round the stage in marked contrast
       to their former languor.]
               No. 19. I'm a Waterloo House young man
                         (Solo and Chorus)
                       Grosvenor and Maidens

  GROSVENOR I'm a Waterloo House young man,
            A Sewell & Cross young man,
       A steady and stolidy, jolly Bank-holiday,
            Everyday young man.

  MAIDENS   We're Swears & Wells young girls,
            We're Madame Louise young girls,
       We're prettily pattering, cheerily chattering,
            Every-day young girls.

  BUN. [C.]  Angela — Ella — Saphir — what — what does this
  mean?

  ANGELA [R.]  It means that Archibald the All-Right cannot be all-
  wrong; and if the All-Right chooses to discard aestheticism, it
  proves that aestheticism ought to be discarded.

  PATIENCE  Oh, Archibald!  Archibald!  I'm shocked — surprised —
  horrified!

  GROS. [L.C.]  I can't help it.  I'm not a free agent.  I do it on
  compulsion.

  PATIENCE  This is terrible.  Go!  I shall never set eyes on you
  again.  But — oh, joy!

  GROS.[L.C.]  What is the matter?

  PATIENCE [R.C.]  Is it quite, quite certain that you will always
  be a commonplace young man?

  GROS.  Always — I've sworn it.

  PATIENCE  Why, then, there's nothing to prevent my loving you
  with all the fervour at my command!

  GROS.  Why, that's true.

  PATIENCE [crossing to him]  My Archibald!

  GROS.  My Patience!  [They embrace.]

  BUN.  Crushed again!

  [Enter JANE, L.]

  JANE [who is still aesthetic]  Cheer up!  I am still here.  I
  have never left you, and I never will!

  BUN.  Thank you, Jane.  After all, there is no denying it, you're
  a fine figure of a woman!

  JANE  My Reginald!

  BUN.  My Jane!  [They embrace.]
                              Fanfare
  [Enter, R., COLONEL, MAJOR, and DUKE.  They are again in
       uniform.]

  COLONEL  Ladies, the Duke has at length determined to select a
  bride!

                        [General excitement]

  DUKE [R.]  I have a great gift to bestow.  Approach, such of you
  as are truly lovely.  [All the MAIDENS come forward, bashfully,
  except JANE and PATIENCE.]  In personal appearance you have all
  that is necessary to make a woman happy.  In common fairness, I
  think I ought to choose the only one among you who has the
  misfortune to be distinctly plain.  [Girls retire disappointed.]
  Jane!

  JANE [leaving BUNTHORNE's arms]  Duke!  [JANE and DUKE embrace.
  BUNTHORNE is utterly disgusted.]

  BUN.  Crushed again!
                No.  20. After much debate internal
                         (Finale of Act II)
                              Ensemble

  DUKE [R.C.]    After much debate internal,
                      I on Lady Jane decide,
                 Saphir now may take the Col'nel,
                      Angry be the Major's bride!

  [SAPHIR pairs off with COLONEL, R., ANGELA with MAJOR, L.C.,
       ELLA with SOLICITOR, L.]

  BUNTHORNE [C.] In that case unprecedented,
                      Single I must live and die—
                 I shall have to be contented
                      With a tulip or li-ly!

  [BUNTHORNE, C., takes a lily from buttonhole and gazes
       affectionately at it.]

  SAPHIR, ELLA,
  ANGELA, DUKE,
  BUNTHORNE and
  COLONEL        He will have to be contented
                      With a tulip or li-ly!

  ALL            In that case unprecedented,
                      Single he/I must live and die—
                 He will/I shall have to be contented
                      With a tulip or li-ly!

                 Greatly pleased with one another,
                      To get married we/they decide.
                 Each of us/them will wed the other,
                      Nobody be Bunthorne's Bride!

                               Dance

                            END OF OPERA