Part 8

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, too! 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)