Part 4

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