Part 1
THE MINOR DRAMA.
The Acting Edition. No. CXXXI.
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THE CORSAIR;
OR, THE
LITTLE FAIRY AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA.
A New Christmas Burlesque and Pantomime,
Founded upon the Ballet of “Le Corsaire.”
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BY WILLIAM BROUGH, ESQ.,
Author of Perdita, or the Royal Milkmaid, Prince Prettypet and the Butterfly, Trying It On, Phenomenon in a Smock-frock, A Comical Countess, &c., &c.
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TO WHICH ARE ADDED
A description of the Costume--Cast of the Characters--Entrances and Exits--Relative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and the whole of the Stage Business.
AS PERFORMED AT THE
PRINCIPAL ENGLISH AND AMERICAN THEATRES.
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NEW YORK: SAMUEL FRENCH, 122 NASSAU STREET; (UP STAIRS.)
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Cast of Characters.--[THE CORSAIR.]
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Royal Wallack’s Lyceum, Theatre London, 1857. Dec. 26, 1856.
_Conrad, the Corsair_, (“a notable Pirate and Mrs. A. Mrs. John salt water Thief,” gloomy, misanthropical, Melion, Wood. ironical and Byronical,) LATE Miss Woolgar.
_Birbanto_, (his Lieutenant--an Officer, but not a Mr. J. L. Mr. John Gentleman,) Toole. Wood.
_Seyd (or Seedy) Pasha_, (a terrible Turk,) Mr. Mr. H. B. Barrett. Phillips.
_Syng Smaul_, (a General Officer--Major-domo, Head Mr. Mr. Cook and Bottle-washer to the Pasha,) Holston. Holmes.
_Yussuf_, (in his own country Joseph--or Mr. S. Mr. familiarly, Old Joe--a renegade Slave Merchant,) Calharm. Peters.
_Hassan_, (a Boatswain,) Miss Goward.
_Medora_, (a Grecian Maiden, Niece and Ward to Mrs. C. Miss J. Yussuf--a sacred pledge intrusted to her uncle,) Dillon. Manners.
_Gulnare_, (the reigning Beauty of the Pasha’s Mrs. B. Mrs. Harem, his favorite, and most other people’s, White. Vernon. it is hoped--including the audience,)
_Zuliema_, (a “light of other days” a little Mrs. C. Mrs. Cook. “faded,”) Melville.
_Submarina_, (the Fairy guardian of the Deep, Miss J. Mrs. H. B. Deep Sea, Chief Inspector of the Ocean Police, Ryder. Phillips. and Deputy Ruler of the Waves,)
_Serena_, (the Little Fairy at the bottom of the Mrs. M. Miss Emily Sea,) Wilton. Milton.
_Corsairs, Slaves, Odalisques, Almas, Water Nymphs, Fairies, Guards, Attendants, &c._
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THE CORSAIR.
SCENE I.--_Marine Aquarium, or Naiad’s Coralline Temple--WATER SPIRITS discovered sleeping in shells; TRITONS come in and arouse them, by sounding their conches; SPIRITS rise and dance; a coral grotto rises, having in it SUBMARINA, CORALIA, AZURINA, TEMPESTIA, &c._
_Sub._ Friends, mermaids, sprites and guardians of the sea, Leave off your dancing and attend to me; This is a public meeting, not a ball; Here come, I’ll take the chair--now silence, all.
_All._ Hear! hear!
_Sub._ [C.] Do let me speak, I say, once more-- Friends, sprites and guardians,
_Cor._ That you said before.
_Sub._ Another interruption of this sort, And I’ll--
_Cor._ [R. C.] Well, well, go on--but cut it short;
_Sub._ Friends, sprites, _et cetera_--We’ve assembled thus, The state of our dominions to discuss; Each day we read, in the _Subaqueous Times_, Of murders, robberies, and other crimes, Daily committed with impunity, In open day--upon the open sea-- Till none are safe who roam the ocean o’er.
_Cor._ They’re just as safe as if they stayed on shore; There, too, I’m told, you’ll find on the increase-- Burglaries--robberies--but _not_ police.
_Sub._ Pray, what’s the shore to you--
_Cor._ I but to tell ye meant.
_Sub._ Pooh! pooh! on land we’re quite out of our element; What we’ve to do, is to find out some plan To rid the ocean of that bad young man, Conrad the Corsair.--None can safety gain Until, like gas, he’s turned off from the main; At all attempts to do so, he has laughed, While his great cunning saves his little craft; All commerce doth he from the waters sweep-- Cleans out the simple ones and scours the deep; None cross the seas thro’ fear of this vile rover-- Their spirits fail, ere they get half seas over-- In short, unless mankind from him we save, There’ll soon be _no_ life on the ocean wave.
_Cor._ What shall we do, in his career to check him--
_Azurina._ Hang him!
_Sub._ Can’t catch him.
_Tempestia._ Raise a storm and wreck him.
_Sub._ A good idea, most reckless of all men; His ship destroyed, he’ll not be wreckless then. About it straight.
_Music._--_SERENA rises through trap, L. C._
_Serena._ One moment hear me, pray.
_Sub._ A motion, an arrest of judgment, eh!
_Serena._ Not only that, but one for a new trial.
_Sub._ Nay--his guilt’s plain.
_Serena._ Too plain for my denial. But ’stead of punishing, could we reclaim him--
_Sub._ Can you reclaim a tiger?
_Serena._ You can tame him! Let me attempt the task.
_Cor._ Nay, have a care, We don’t want Conrad made a tame affair.
_Sub._ Say by what potent magic will you try?
_Serena._ One which the rudest breast can purify-- Lifting the soul all meaner thoughts above-- The magic influence of woman’s love.
_Cor._ Ho! ho! I see--the Corsair’s handsome face And figure, eh?
_Azurina._ A most decided case.
_Cor._ You’re smitten, miss.
_Serena._ I scorn the imputation; I am a fairy, and I know my station!
_Sub._ No quarreling--I own your plan seems strange; Think you that love can work this mighty change?
_Serena._ Madam, I’ve heard of fast young men on town, Desperate dogs, by marriage settled down-- Men, who for years would not go home till morning, Found the domestic tea-table adorning; Smokers, I’ve heard, have put their pipes out--nay I’ve even heard of latch-keys thrown away. Can love do this, and yet be unavailing, To cure a paltry pirate’s little failing? Let Conrad only get a loving wife, And, on my word, he’ll lead another life.
_Sub._ Enough--we’ll try your plan.
_Serena._ I ask no more, Than leave of absence for a month on shore-- If, ere that time be passed, I don’t succeed, Then wreck him, or whate’er you please--
_Sub._ Agreed!
[_Music._--_The SPIRITS form a group, and SERENA is seen darting up towards the earth as the scene closes._
SCENE II.--_Market Place in Stamboul, and Oriental Slave Bazaar._
_Cheering outside._--_Enter CORSAIRS, L._
_1st Cors._ Come lads, our Captain’s given us a holiday On shore to-day, and so let’s have a jolly day-- We’ve been of late so close to business sticking, We want some change.
_2d Cors._ Let’s try some pocket-picking--
_1st Cors._ You’d find small change in that--
_2d Cors._ Yes, ’twould be strange, In people’s pockets not to find _small change_.
_3d Cors._ But see, our noble Captain comes this way--
_1st Cors._ Three cheers for Conrad--Hip, hip, hip, hurray!
_Enter CONRAD, L._
_Conrad._ There, that’ll do--Hip, hip, indeed--what stuff-- As if I’m not already hipped enough. [_Crosses R._
_1st Cors._ Cheer up, my hearty--
_Conrad._ Man! I’m not your hearty, And to cheer up, I’m not at all the party.
_1st Cors._ Why is great Conrad ever sad?
_Conrad._ Ah, why? Who can explain this secret grief; not I-- That secret kept so dark, none e’er saw through it-- I don’t believe that even Byron knew it. [_Crosses, L._
Go, go, poor giddy things, employ your leisure, In seeking what the thoughtless world calls pleasure.
_1st Cors._ Say, is there aught you’d like, that we can bring, To soothe your grief--
_Conrad._ [L.] I don’t like anything; The gloomy spirit in this aching breast, Despises most things, and can’t bear the rest; Deems happiness an empty sound, no more; The world a humbug--life itself a bore-- There’s nothing in it! Leave me. [_They are going._ Tell me, though, Hast seen Birbanto our lieutenant?
_1st Cors._ No. [_Exeunt, R._
_Enter BIRBANTO, L._
_Birb._ Behold him, here! What would great Conrad--Eh? Anything wanted in my little way? [_Drawing his dagger._
If so, just give your orders and it’s done-- From pitch and toss to manslaughter, all’s one.
_Conrad._ Thou art the best o’ the cut-throats--
_Birb._ I’m no bragger, But, I must say, I’m not bad at a dagger, I’ve one to serve you with in any way, [_Aside._] And serve you out with, too, I hope, some day.
_Conrad._ You’re very kind.
_Birb._ But pardon the suggestion-- My dagger’s point was not the point in question. You asked for me--
_Conrad._ I might have done. Heigho!
_Birb._ Pooh! try some drink--you’re several cups too low.
_Conrad._ Nay, I have tried--I drained a flask this minute----
_Birb._ Well, when you’d drained it?
_Conrad._ There was nothing in it. All things I’ve tried, but they bring no relief To the used-up, bored, _blase_ pirate chief. Travel I’ve tried, from place to place still dodging, You’ll find me _bored_ where’er you find me lodging. The stormy waves no change to me afford, For if I’m shipwrecked, still I’m over_board_; I’ve sought excitement east, west, north, and south, In battle-strife--e’en at the cannon’s mouth, But all in vain: amid the battle’s roar, I found the cannon’s mouth was but a _bore_! Enough of this.
_Birb._ [_Aside._] Too much for me to stand; A pretty fellow to command our band. Oh, I should like to---- [_Raises dagger; CONRAD turns round; BIRBANTO bows after the approved style of melodrama._
_Conrad._ Where’s my galley?
_Birb._ [_Pointing off R._] Sir, The _gal_ley’s there--that _buoy_’s attached to her.
_Conrad._ Keep her in readiness to sail to-night, In case of accidents. D’ye hear? [_Same business with the dagger._
_Birb._ [_Bowing._] All right! [_Exit CONRAD, R._
It shall be so. We’ve stood him long enough-- A spoony, pining, sentimental muff; He’s not at all my notion of a Corsair-- I like black worsted curls and beard of horsehair; The good old heavy style of melodram, More like the individual I am. Yet the band love him. Well, it is but right To own he is the very deuce to fight, When he begins. No matter! we shall see Which they prefer to lead them--him or me! To sound them on the point, at once I go forth. [_Shaking his fist towards where CONRAD has gone off._
Tremble! Despair! Ha, ha! Revenge! and so forth!
_Song._--BIRBANTO.--_Air, “Dusty Bob’s Hornpipe.”_
Scruples, lie down--for in guilt I’m dyed so deep already; Harder ’twould be to go back than to proceed. After the scores that this dagger’s sent to sleep already Why should I pause at one other little deed? Tremble, proud Conrad--a foe you don’t expect in me; Tremble--despair--as, I think, I said before. You once removed--as their leader--they electing me-- Crown all the hopes that so long I’ve pondered o’er.
Let them consent, and but once transfer the rule to me, I’d show them how they their work should go about; A ticket-of-leave man himself would be a fool to me; Garotters confess that I beat ’em out and out. Robbing, attacking all--plundering, whacking all-- I get the lion’s share, of course, of all the dibs; If they’ll fall in with it, now I’ll begin with it, Sticking at nothing except our leader’s ribs. [_Exit R._
_Enter a number of female SLAVES, followed by YUSSUF, L._
_Yussuf._ Now then, you tarnal critters, look alive. I have had many lots of slaves to drive, Of all sorts and complexions--black, white, and red; You whip them all--from Uncle Tom to Dred! Come, look alive, I tell you. Take your places, None of your airs--but plenty of your graces. Be careful of your smiles, and mind your eyes; It’s market-day, remember. Come, who buys?
_March._--_Enter PASHA, SYNG SMAUL, and GUARDS, R._
_Pasha._ Halt! curs!
_Syng._ Halt, curs--d’ye hear?
_Pasha._ Of course they hear.
_Syng._ [L.] Great Pasha!
_Pasha._ Slave, who bid you interfere?
_Syng._ I’m dumb.
_Yussuf._ [R.] Great Brother of the Sun and Moon, How do you find yourself, this afternoon?
_Pasha._ [C.] We thank thee, dog, we’re pretty well.
_Syng._ Rejoice! Let all the earth raise high its joyful voice; All care and grief from every heart abolish, Our mighty Pasha, feels himself tol-lol-ish. Shout all of you. [_All shout._
_Pasha._ [_Striking him._] Be quiet--
_Syn._ [_Striking another._] Slaves, be dumb. How dare you make this row--
_Pasha._ But business--come-- What hast thou got to sell, dog?
_Yussuf._ Sire, I deem These here Circassians, the Circassian cream Of excellence, in all points--figures--faces-- Trot out, you critters, come, and show your paces.
_Music._--_The SLAVES dance out one by one, and pass before the PASHA._
_Pasha._ [_Looking at them one by one._] Too dark! too fair! too red! too short! too tall! Too lean! too fat! pooh! pooh! won’t do at all. Hast thou no others, pig?
_Yussuf._ No, sire; you see My wholesale merchant disappointed me; I’ve ordered in some beauties.
_Pasha._ Reptile, peace! Who’s this?
_Yussuf._ That, sire? Medora, my young niece.
_Enter MEDORA, dancing, L._
There, that’ll do--just cut these capers--stop! Must I for ever catch you on the hop?
_Medora._ Nay, be not angry, uncle--
_Yussuf._ Then stand still!
_Medora._ With pleasure, if it pleases you, I will; But I’m so happy--feel my heart so light; The air’s so balmy, and the sun so bright. The gladness that’s inspired by all around, Finds vent in _jumps_, because it knows no _bound_.
_Pasha._ She’ll do! Come hither, dog, a word with you. [_YUSSUF approaches, they whisper, L. C._
_Medora._ [_Uneasy._] What’s that dark stranger, whispering?
_Pasha._ Pooh! pooh!
_Yussuf._ But, sire, to sell one’s niece, like any nigger! ’Possums and rattlesnakes! Say what’s the figure?
_Pasha._ [L.C.] Name your own price.
_Yussuf._ [L.] My niece--so good, so true-- So dear to me. Well, she’ll be dear to you, What say you to one thousand chequeens?
_Pasha._ Done.
_Yussuf._ [_Aside._] I wish I’d ask’d him five, instead of one.
_Medora._ What strange presentiment of woe comes o’er me?
_Pasha._ Conduct her home.
_Syng._ Fair slave, just march before me!
_Medora._ Slave! knave! behave! I am no slave--I’m free! You are deceived;
_Syng._ Nay, you are sold--not me;
_Medora._ I sold! Who’d dare to sell me?
_Syng._ Can’t you guess--
_Medora._ Oh, my prophetic soul! my uncle--
_Yussuf._ Yes; I’m very sorry, but--
_Medora._ You sorry--stuff!
_Yussuf._ I guess I am. [_Aside._] I didn’t charge enough.
_Medora._ [_To PASHA._] I am no slave, good sir, I’m free--then please ye, To calm my fears, and make me free and easy.
_Yussuf._ There! don’t orationize the case about.
_Medora._ If you’re my uncle, you will let me spout.
_Pasha._ No words--you are my slave. [_Seizes her._
_Medora._ Help! help!
_Enter CONRAD, R._
_Conrad._ How now? Some work for me it seems; I like a row. [_Draws sword._
Villains!
_Pasha._ Holloa!
_Medora._ Sir, save me if you can--
_Conrad._ Yes, I’ll _see fair_; I’m a _sea-faring_ man; And on the stage no sailor can do less, Than rescue lovely women in distress: And so here goes. [_Throws SYNG SMAUL across to R._--_Tableau._
_Pasha._ Guards, hew him limb from limb!
_Medora._ No, mercy! take my life, but pardon him.
_Conrad._ Pooh! pooh! fair maid, let them come on--they dare not; Come--the whole lot of you at once--I care not.
_Song._--CONRAD.--_Air, “La tremenda ultrice Spada.”_
Ten to one, now come on to the attack, sirs, Were it ten times ten I’d not yield, sirs, What’s the odds, I myself still back, sirs, Ten to one on the favorite ’gainst the field. Ten to one--who says done?--still no takers, Ten to one--you, my friends, are quakers, Ten to one--you’ll say done in a crack, sirs. When my name and my address I have revealed.
_Yussuf._ [R.] Go at him--all at once. [_GUARDS rush forward._
_Conrad._ Stay! by-the-bye, You’d like to know, p’rhaps, who I am?
_Pasha._ Not I!
_Conrad._ Well, mind you, I can fight--I give you warning.
_Medora._ Who can it be, these fearful odds thus scorning?
_Pasha._ My guards are ready.
_Medora._ Stay--your name avow!
_Conrad._ Conrad the Corsair! [_GUARDS shrink away._
Are they ready now?
_Yussuf._ Jerusalem! [_Exit, R., followed by the GIRLS._
_Pasha._ The Corsair! murder! fire! [_Runs out, followed by GUARDS, L._
_Conrad._ [L.] Fair maid, you’re safe--permit me to retire.
_Medora._ [R.] Nay, fly not yet, or else let me fly too, I’m not safe here--they’ll soon return.
_Conrad._ That’s true, And doubtless, though the case I’ve yet to learn, You’ll get small profit by their quick return; But still to come with me----
_Medora._ Oh, take me hence! I will not put you to the least expense; I’ll work my passage out--wash, cook, bake, brew for you. Will be your slave, and regularly do for you.
_Conrad._ [_Aside._] I fear you would, if long at you I looked, And my own goose be the first thing you cooked. [_Aloud._] But think upon the dangers of the sea.
_Medora._ Those dangers have no terrors, sir, for me.
_Conrad._ A common boast--the would-be yachting man, Who talked so bravely ere the trip began, I have seen rush, at the first lurch, to leeward, His boasting sunk in one faint cry of “steward.”
_Medora._ Fear not my courage; take me with you, do.
_Conrad._ I’ve half a mind.
_Medora._ I should be safe with you; But if left here alone, then should I be _Alone_ without the least _security_.
_Conrad._ Enough! it shall be so--your words prevail. The best security is _power of sail_; So, to set sail at once must be our plan, The crew may follow the best way they can.
_Song._--CONRAD.--_Air, “My Skiff is by the Shore.”_
My skiff is on the shore, she manned must be, By one little boy, yourself, and me; Can I call it manned, though, when of the three, One is a small boy, and another a she. Fa, la, la, &c. My skiff is on the shore--then come with me, Since here with you ’twould be all U P. [_MEDORA dances to chorus--exeunt, L._
_SERENA rises from trap, R. C._
_Serena._ So far, so good! my plans are working nicely; That’s just the sort of girl he wants precisely, Modest, sportive, happy, kind, affectionate; With heart as light as a cheap grocer’s weight. He’s half in love as ’tis--but to make sure, All sorts of dangers they shall first endure; For true love’s course, in palace, cottage, booth, Like omnibuses, never yet ran smooth; And of all plans to win a man’s affection, The surest is, to trust him for protection. To aid my plans, first, shipwrecked he shall be; When the ship sinks, all must go swimmingly-- To raise the wind, at once the seas I’ll cross, And set the waves all playing pitch and toss.
_Song._--SERENA.--_Air, “Over the Sea.”_
Over the sea!--now will I flee-- Mind, it’s a secret between you and me; Soon you will see--don’t say ’twas me-- Somebody coming it strong!
Even March! March! March! With his winds and rough weather, Such storm ne’er could gather: Old March! March! March! Shall confess himself beaten ere long.
It’s over the sea! Over the sea! Like Mother Carey’s bird now will I flee-- Over the sea! Over the sea! Raising the wind pretty strong. [_Exit R._
SCENE III.--_A Storm at Sea, with the wreck of the Golden Mary._
_CONRAD’S vessel discovered, surrounded by the raging waters._ _CONRAD, MEDORA and SAILOR, discovered on the deck._
_Conrad._ Courage, Medora, all will yet be well; I s’pose you ne’er saw such a heavy swell? Cheer up! you’re pale--you must be ill, I’m thinking?
_Medora._ No, no! I only feel a little sinking. [_Noise of ship striking._
Hark! the ship’s striking--we are lost!
_Conrad._ Pooh! pooh! Who cares, if the effect is striking too, If with the public we go down to-night!
_Medora._ She sinks! we’re _going down_!
_Conrad._ We are? All right! [_Ship sinks. Scene closes._
SCENE IV.--_The Pirate’s Home._--_A large arch in C., with curtains closed. Music._
_Enter BIRBANTO and YUSSUF, stealthily, L._
_Yussuf._ [L.] Say, stranger.
_Birb._ [R.] Hush! don’t speak,--don’t breathe--don’t wink!
_Yussuf._ All slick, old coon, we see’d the critter sink In last night’s storm.
_Birb._ He’s saved tho’, I’ll be bound; Men born for his fate, never can be drowned.
_Yussuf._ How was it we escaped?
_Birb._ Because, you see, We were not born for drowning more than he. But come, to business! where’s the cash? fork out!
_Yussuf._ I’d rather have the gal back, first.
_Birb._ No doubt.
_Yussuf._ I’ll liquidate, safe as the bank.
_Birb._ Just so; But then banks are not always safe, you know. No trust.
_Yussuf._ [_Gives money._] Well, there. Now, how d’ye mean to fix him?
_Birb._ A sleeping draught I’ll go at once and mix him, So strong, that if his food in it you steep, You’d even catch a weasel fast asleep.
_Yussuf._ I see. So then, when he this potion drinking, Goes off like nodding, we go off like winking, And take the gal.
_Birb._ [_Aside._] A rash step, p’raps, I’ve taken; I’d take a rasher, could I save my bacon, And settle him at once, clean out of hand, But that I fear the vengeance of the band. No matter, time will come. Hah! hah!
_Yussuf._ I say.
_Birb._ I beg your pardon. Come--away! away! [_Exit melo-dramatically, followed by YUSSUF, R._
_Music._--_The curtains in the arch, C., are raised, and discover CONRAD reclining on a couch of tiger skins, smoking a chibouque, MEDORA seated at his feet._
_Conrad._ And so your uncle sold you into slavery? The monster!
_Medora._ Had it not been for your bravery----
_Conrad._ There, that’s enough; these fervent thanks withhold.
_Medora._ Say, are you sure you haven’t caught a cold, Last night when struggling with the waves so cruel? Do let me make you just one drop of gruel. [_Rises._
_Conrad._ A pirate taking gruel! doubtless you Would like my feet put in hot water, too?
_Medora._ I should, ’twould do you good.
_Conrad._ And I suppose You’d further counsel tallowing my nose?
_Medora._ ’Twould be as well. Nay, come, from laughing cease; Were you a patriot, you’d stick up for _grease_.
_Conrad._ Her care for me is really charming! Come, Sit down, Medora--make yourself at home.
_Medora._ Nay, I’m your slave.
_Conrad._ [_Aside._] My love for her gets stronger.
_Medora._ Your waiting maid.
_Conrad._ Nay, you shall wait no longer. [_He rises; she dances away coquettishly, he following_--_CONRAD sings to music of dance._
_Air.--“The Fan Dance.” (Spanish.)_
Sweetest, your charms have restored me, All once bored me--_ennui_ floored me. Oh, my heart now you’ve fill’d with gladness, Away have you chased its sadness! Medora, oh! don’t say me no.
Say you’ll be mine--then pray do, love! For ’tis you, love, are my true love; Oh! don’t turn away your face, dear, But do grant me one embrace, dear, You will not refuse me, I know.
Come, sweet Medora--say that you’ll be mine!
_BIRBANTO crawls on from R._
_Birb._ Now, how to do it--hah, the wine! the wine! [_Pours liquid from vial into CONRAD’S glass, and exit at back. MEDORA sinks into CONRAD’S arms; he kisses her._
_Conrad._ No more a slave--this liberty affords you; Your lover, not your master, looks towards you. [_Drinks_--_chord._
How’s this? a sudden drowsiness, methinks; Would you excuse me just for forty winks? [_Sleeps._
_Medora._ Sleep--I’ll hold watch, so shall no harm befall him. Holding the watch, I shall know when to call him.
_Soft music.--Enter YUSSUF and BIRBANTO, stealthily, R._
_Birb._ There lies the man of mystery, dark and deep, So slow when waking--yet how fast asleep! Now is your time--quick to your task allotted. [_Gives him scarf._
_Yussuf._ Slick as greased light’ning. [_Throws scarf over MEDORA’S head._
_Birb._ Cleverly garrotted.
_Medora._ [_Struggling_:] Help! Murder!
_Birb._ Silence her--choke--muzzle--gag her. Or, stay--let me assist you with a dagger.
_Yussuf._ No. No.
_Medora._ Help! Conrad!
_Yussuf._ Silence--come along! [_Drags her out, R._
_Medora._ Help!
_Birb._ [_Calling after him._] Get a pitch-plaster and pitch it strong.
_Enter CORSAIRS, L._
_1st Cors._ What noise was that? A cry for help we heard--
_Birb._ [_Aside._] So just in time--[_aloud_]--a cry--pooh! pooh! absurd!
_2d Cors._ I’m sure I heard a voice for aid imploring--
_Birb._ Pshaw! you’re mistaken--’twas our captain snoring.
_1st Cors._ [_Seeing CONRAD._] Conrad asleep!
_Birb._ Yes, that’s a pretty way For a great pirate chief to pass the day! Hear me, my friends--our captain is a do.
_1st Cors._ How?
_Birb._ Not the leader for brave men like you.