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--Ido 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.