The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan Part 89

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 hoa.r.s.e?

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 n.o.body 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 t.i.tle 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, "d.i.c.k," it says (it calls me d.i.c.k acos it's ent.i.tled 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 circ.u.mstances, Young and l.u.s.ty, 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 la 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 gra.s.s is mown: In the autumn you may reap: Winter is the time for sleep.