Part 23

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!