Part 25

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!