The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan

by Arthur Sullivan; W. S. Gilbert

[ [!-- H2 anchor --] ]

ACT I

[Scene.— Tower Green]
[Phoebe discovered spinning.
No. 1. When maiden loves, she sits and sighs
(INTRODUCTION and SONG)
Phoebe
PHOEBE When maiden loves, she sits and sighs,
She wanders to and fro;
Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes,
And to all questions she replies,
With a sad "Heigh-ho!"
'Tis but a little word—"Heigh-ho!"
So soft, 'tis scarcely heard—"Heigh-ho!"
An idle breath—
Yet life and death
May hang upon a maid's "Heigh-ho!"
When maiden loves, she mopes apart,
As owl mopes on a tree;
Although she keenly feels the smart,
She cannot tell what ails her heart,
With its sad "Ah, me!"
'Tis but a foolish sigh—"Ah, me!"
Born but to droop and die—"Ah, me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
"Ah, me!", "Ah, me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
[PHOEBE weeps
[Enter WILFRED
WILFRED Mistress Meryll!
PHOEBE [looking up] Eh! Oh! it's you, is it? You may go
away,if you like. Because I don't want you, you know.
WILFRED Haven't you anything to say to me?
PHOEBE Oh yes! Are the birds all caged? The wild beasts all
littered down? All the locks, chains, bolts, and bars
in good order? Is the Little Ease sufficiently
comfortable? The racks, pincers, and thumbscrews all
ready for work? Ugh! you brute!
WILFRED These allusions to my professional duties are in
doubtful taste. I didn't become a head-jailer because
I like head-jailing. I didn't become an assistant-
tormentor because I like assistant-tormenting. We
can't all be sorcerers, you know. [PHOEBE is annoyed]
Ah! you brought that upon yourself.
PHOEBE Colonel Fairfax is not a sorcerer. He's a man of
science and an alchemist.
WILFRED Well, whatever he is, he won't be one for long, for
he's to be beheaded to-day for dealings with the
devil. His master nearly had him last night, when the
fire broke out in the Beauchamp [pronounced Bee'cham]
Tower.
PHOEBE Oh! how I wish he had escaped in the confusion! But
take care; there's still time for a reply to his
petition for mercy.
WILFRED Ah! I'm content to chance that. This evening at half-
past seven— ah! [Gesture of chopping off a head.]
PHOEBE You're a cruel monster to speak so unfeelingly of the
death of a young and handsome soldier.
WILFRED Young and handsome! How do you know he's young and
handsome?
PHOEBE Because I've seen him every day for weeks past taking
his exercise on the Beauchamp [pronounced Bee'cham]
Tower.
WILFRED Curse him!
PHOEBE There, I believe you're jealous of him, now. Jealous
of a man I've never spoken to! Jealous of a poor soul
who's to die in an hour!
WILFRED I am! I'm jealous of everybody and everything. I'm
jealous of the very words I speak to you— because they
reach your ears— and I mustn't go near 'em!
PHOEBE How unjust you are! Jealous of the words you speak to
me! Why, you know as well as I do that I don't even
like them.
WILFRED You used to like 'em.
PHOEBE I used to pretend I like them. It was mere politeness
to comparative strangers.
[Exit PHOEBE, with spinning wheel
WILFRED I don't believe you know what jealousy is! I don't
believe you know how it eats into a man's heart— and
disorders his digestion— and turns his interior into
boiling lead. Oh, you are a heartless jade to trifle
with the delicate organization of the human interior.
No. 1A. When jealous torments
(OPTIONAL SONG)
Wilfred
WILFRED When jealous torments rack my soul,
My agonies I can't control,
Oh, better sit on red hot coal
Than love a heartless jade.
The red hot coal will hurt no doubt,
But red hot coals in time die out,
But jealousy you can not rout,
Its fires will never fade.
It's much less painful on the whole
To go and sit on red hot coal
'Til you're completely flayed,
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade,
Than love a heartless jade.
The kerchief on your neck of snow
I look on as a deadly foe,
It goeth where I dare not go
And stops there all day long.
The belt that holds you in its grasp
Is to my peace of mind a rasp,
It claspeth what I can not clasp,
Correct me if I'm wrong.
It's much less painful on the whole
To go and sit on red hot coal
'Til you're completely flayed,
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade,
Than love a heartless jade.
The bird that breakfasts on your lip,
I would I had him in my grip,
He sippeth where I dare not sip,
I can't get over that.
The cat you fondle soft and sly,
He layeth where I dare not lie.
We're not on terms, that cat and I.
I do not like that cat.
It's much less painful on the whole
To go and sit on red hot coal
'Til you're completely flayed,
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade,
Than love a heartless jade.
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade.
[Exit WILFRED. Enter people excitedly, followed by YEOMEN
of the Guard with SERGEANT MERYLL at rear.
No. 2. Tower warders, Under orders
(Double Chorus)
CROWD and YEOMEN, with Solo 2ND YEOMEN
CROWD Tower warders,
Under orders,
Gallant pikemen, valiant sworders!
Brave in bearing,
Foemen scaring,
In their bygone days of daring!
Ne'er a stranger
There to danger—
Each was o'er the world a ranger;
To the story
Of our glory
Each a bold, a bold contributory!
YEOMEN In the autumn of our life,
Here at rest in ample clover,
We rejoice in telling over
Our impetuous May and June.
In the evening of our day,
With the sun of life declining,
We recall without repining
All the heat of bygone noon,
We recall without repining
All the heat,
We recall, recall
All of bygone noon.
2ND YEOMAN This the autumn of our life,
This the evening of our day;
Weary we of battle strife,
Weary we of mortal fray.
But our year is not so spent,
And our days are not so faded,
But that we with one consent,
Were our loved land invaded,
Still would face a foreign foe,
As in days of long ago,
Still would face a foreign foe,
As in days of long ago,
As in days of long ago,
As in days of long ago.
YEOMEN Still would face a foreign foe,
As in days of long ago.
CROWD Tower warders,
Under orders,
Gallant pikemen, valiant sworders!
Brave in bearing, Foemen scaring,
In their bygone days of daring!
CROWD YEOMEN
Tower warders, This the autumn of our life
Under orders,
Gallant pikemen,
Valiant sworders
Brave in bearing, This the evening of our day;
Foemen scaring,
In their bygone days of daring!
Ne'er a stranger Weary we of battle strife,
There to danger
Each was o'er the world a ranger:
To the story Weary we of mortal fray.
Of our glory
Each a bold,
A bold contributory.
To the story This the autumn of our life.
Of our glory
Each a bold contributory! This the evening of our day,
Each a bold contributory! This the evening of our day.
[Exit CROWD. Manent YEOMEN. Enter DAME CARRUTHERS.
DAME A good day to you!
2ND
YEOMAN Good day, Dame Carruthers. Busy to-day?
DAME Busy, aye! the fire in the Beauchamp [pronounced
Bee'cham] last night has given me work enough. A dozen
poor prisoners— Richard Colfax, Sir Martin Byfleet,
Colonel Fairfax, Warren the preacher-poet, and half-a-
score others— all packed into one small cell, not six
feet square. Poor Colonel Fairfax, who's to die to-
day, is to be removed to no. 14 in the Cold Harbour
that he may have his last hour alone with his
confessor; and I've to see to that.
2ND
YEOMAN Poor gentleman! He'll die bravely. I fought under him
two years since, and he valued his life as it were a
feather!
PHOEBE He's the bravest, the handsomest, and the best young
gentleman in England! He twice saved my father's life;
and it's a cruel thing, a wicked thing, and a
barbarous thing that so gallant a hero should lose his
head— for it's the handsomest head in England!
DAME For dealings with the devil. Aye! if all were beheaded
who dealt with him, there'd be busy things on Tower
Green.
PHOEBE You know very well that Colonel Fairfax is a student
of alchemy— nothing more, and nothing less; but this
wicked Tower, like a cruel giant in a fairy-tale, must
be fed with blood, and that blood must be the best and
bravest in England, or it's not good enough for the
old Blunderbore. Ugh!
DAME Silence, you silly girl; you know not what you say. I
was born in the old keep, and I've grown grey in it,
and, please God, I shall die and be buried in it; and
there's not a stone in its walls that is not as dear
tome as my right hand.

No. 3. When our gallant Norman foes
(SONG WITH CHORUS)
Dame Carruthers and Yeomen
DAME When our gallant Norman foes
Made our merry land their own,
And the Saxons from the Conqueror were flying,
At his bidding it arose,
In its panoply of stone,
A sentinel unliving and undying.
Insensible, I trow,
As a sentinel should be,
Though a queen to save her head should
come a-suing,
There's a legend on its brow
That is eloquent to me,
And it tells of duty done and duty doing.
The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
CHORUS The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
DAME Within its wall of rock
The flower of the brave
Have perished with a constancy unshaken.
From the dungeon to the block,
From the scaffold to the grave,
Is a journey many gallant hearts have taken.
And the wicked flames may hiss
Round the heroes who have fought
For conscience and for home in all its beauty,
But the grim old fortalice
Takes little heed of aught
That comes not in the measure of its duty.
The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
CHORUS The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
[Exeunt all but PHOEBE. Enter SERGEANT MERYLL.
PHOEBE Father! Has no reprieve arrived for the poor
gentleman?
MERYLL No, my lass; but there's one hope yet. Thy brother
Leonard, who, as a reward for his valour in saving his
standard and cutting his way through fifty foes who
would have hanged him, has been appointed a Yeoman of
the Guard, will arrive to-day; and as he comes
straight from Windsor, where the Court is, it may be—
it may be— that he will bring the expected reprieve
with him.
PHOEBE Oh, that he may!
MERYLL Amen to that! For the Colonel twice saved my life, and
I'd give the rest of my life to save his! And wilt
thou not be glad to welcome thy brave brother, with
the fame of whose exploits all England is a-ringing?
PHOEBE Aye, truly, if he brings the reprieve.
MERYLL And not otherwise?
PHOEBE Well, he's a brave fellow indeed, and I love brave
men.
MERYLL All brave men?
PHOEBE Most of them, I verily believe! But I hope Leonard
will not be too strict with me— they say he is a very
dragon of virtue and circumspection! Now, my dear old
father is kindness itself, and——
MERYLL And leaves thee pretty well to thine own ways, eh?
Well, I've no fears for thee; thou hast a feather-
brain, but thou'rt a good lass.
PHOEBE Yes, that's all very well, but if Leonard is going to
tell me that I may not do this and I may not do that,
and I must not talk to this one, or walk with that
one, but go through the world with my lips pursed up
and my eyes cats down, like a poor nun who has
renounced mankind— why, as I have not renounced
mankind, and don't mean to renounce mankind, I won't
have it— there!

MERYLL Nay, he'll not check thee more than is good for thee,
Phoebe! He's a brave fellow, and bravest among brave
fellows, and yet it seems but yesterday that he robbed
the Lieutenant's orchard.
No. 3A. A laughing boy
(OPTIONAL SONG)
Sergeant Meryll
MERYLL A laughing boy but yesterday,
A merry urchin blithe and gay,
Whose joyous shout came ringing out
Unchecked by care or sorrow.
Today a warrior all sunbrown,
When deeds of soldierly renown
Are not the boast of London town,
A veteran tomorrow, today a warrior,
A veteran tomorrow!
When at my Leonard's deeds sublime,
A soldier's pulse beats double time,
And grave hearts thrill as brave hearts will
At tales of martial glory.
I burn with flush of pride and joy,
A pride unbittered by alloy,
To find my boy, my darling boy,
The theme of song and story,
To find my darling boy
The theme of song and story!
To find my boy, my darling boy,
The theme of song and story!
[Enter LEONARD MERYLL
LEONARD Father!
MERYLL Leonard! my brave boy! I'm right glad to see thee, and
so is Phoebe!
PHOEBE Aye— hast thou brought Colonel Fairfax's reprieve?
LEONARD Nay, I have here a despatch for the Lieutenant, but no
reprieve for the Colonel!
PHOEBE Poor gentleman! poor gentleman!
LEONARD Aye, I would I had brought better news. I'd give my
right hand— nay, my body— my life, to save his!
MERYLL Dost thou speak in earnest, my lad?
LEONARD Aye, father— I'm no braggart. Did he not save thy
life? and am I not his foster-brother?
MERYLL Then hearken to me. Thou hast come to join the Yeomen
of the Guard!
LEONARD Well?
MERYLL None has seen thee but ourselves?
LEONARD And a sentry, who took scant notice of me.
MERYLL Now to prove thy words. Give me the despatch and get
thee hence at once! Here is money, and I'll send thee
more. Lie hidden for a space, and let no one know.
I'll convey a suit of Yeoman's uniform to the
Colonel's cell— he shall shave off his beard, so that
none shall know him, and I'll own him as my son, the
brave Leonard Meryll, who saved his flag and cut his
way through fifty foes who thirsted for his life. He
will be welcomed without question by my brother-
Yeomen, I'll warrant that. Now, how to get access to
the Colonel's cell? [To PHOEBE] The key is with they
sour-faced admirer, Wilfred Shadbolt.
PHOEBE [demurely] I think— I say, I think— I can get anything
I want from Wilfred. I think— mind I say, I think— you
may leave that to me.
MERYLL Then get thee hence at once, lad— and bless thee for
this sacrifice.
PHOEBE And take my blessing, too, dear, dear Leonard!
LEONARD And thine. eh? Humph! Thy love is newborn; wrap it up
carefully, lest it take cold and die.
No. 4. Alas! I waver to and fro
(TRIO)
Phoebe, Leonard, and Meryll
PHOEBE Alas! I waver to and fro!
Dark danger hangs upon the deed!
ALL Dark danger hangs upon the deed!
LEONARD The scheme is rash and well may fail;
But ours are not the hearts that quail,
The hands that shrink, the cheeks that pale
In hours of need!
ALL No, ours are not the hearts that quail,
The hands that shrink, the cheeks that pale
The hands that shrink, the cheeks that pale
In hours of need!
MERYLL The air I breathe to him I owe:
My life is his— I count it naught!
PHOEBE
and LEONARD That life is his— so count it naught!
MERYLL And shall I reckon risks I run
When services are to be done
To save the life of such an one?
Unworthy thought! Unworthy thought!
PHOEBE
and LEONARD And shall we reckon risks we run
To save the life of such an one?
ALL Unworthy thought! Unworthy thought!
We may succeed— who can foretell?
May heav'n help our hope—
May heav'n help our hope,
farewell!
May heav'n help our hope,
Help our hope,
farewell!
[LEONARD embraces MERYLL and PHOEBE, and then exits. PHOEBE
weeping.
MERYLL [goes up to PHOEBE] Nay, lass, be of good cheer, we
may save him yet.
PHOEBE Oh! see, after— they bring the poor gentleman from the
Beauchamp! [pronounced Bee'cham] Oh, father! his hour
is not yet come?
MERYLL No, no— they lead him to the Cold Harbour Tower to
await his end in solitude. But softly— the Lieutenant
approaches! He should not see thee weep.
[Enter FAIRFAX, guarded by YEOMEN. The LIEUTENANT enters,
meeting him.
LIEUT. Halt! Colonel Fairfax, my old friend, we meet but
sadly.
FAIRFAX Sir, I greet you with all good-will; and I thank you
for the zealous acre with which you have guarded me
from the pestilent dangers which threaten human life
outside. In this happy little community, Death, when
he comes, doth so in punctual and business-like
fashion; and, like a courtly gentleman, giveth due
notice of his advent, that one may not be taken
unawares.
LIEUT. Sir, you bear this bravely, as a brave man should.
FAIRFAX Why, sir, it is no light boon to die swiftly and
surely at a given hour and in a given fashion! Truth
to tell, I would gladly have my life; but if that may
not be, I have the next best thing to it, which is
death. Believe me, sir, my lot is not so much amiss!
PHOEBE [aside to MERYLL] Oh, father, father, I cannot bear
it!
MERYLL My poor lass!
FAIRFAX Nay, pretty one, why weepest thou? Come, be comforted.
Such a life as mine is not worth weeping for. [sees
MERYLL] Sergeant Meryll, is it not? [to LIEUTENANT]
May I greet my old friend? [Shakes MERYLL's hand;
MERYLL begins to weep] Why, man, what's all this? Thou
and I have faced the grim old king a dozen times, and
never has his majesty come to me in such goodly
fashion. Keep a stout heart, good fellow— we are
soldiers, and we know how to die, thou and I. Take my
word for it, it is easier to die well than to live
well— for, in sooth, I have tried both.
No. 5. Is life a boon?
(BALLAD)
Fairfax
FAIRFAX Is life a boon?
If so, it must befall
That Death, whene'er he call,
Must call too soon.
Though fourscore years he give,
Yet one would pray to live
Another moon!
What kind of plaint have I,
Who perish in July,
who perish in July?
I might have had to die,
Perchance, in June!
I might have had to die,
Perchance, in June!
Is life a thorn?
Then count it not a whit!
Nay, count it not a whit!
Man is well done with it;
Soon as he's born
He should all means essay
To put the plague away;
And I, war-worn,
Poor captured fugitive,
My life most gladly give—
I might have had to live,
Another morn!
I might have had to live,
Another morn!
[At the end, PHOEBE is led off, weeping, by MERYLL.
FAIRFAX And now, Sir Richard, I have a boon to beg. I am in
this strait for no better reason than because my
kinsman, Sir Clarence Poltwhistle, one of the
Secretaries of State, has charged me with sorcery, in
order that he may succeed in my estate, which devolves
to him provided I die unmarried.
LIEUT. As thou wilt most surely do.
FAIRFAX Nay, as I will most surely not do, by your worship's
grace! I have a mind to thwart this good cousin of
mine.
LIEUT. How?
FAIRFAX By marrying forthwith, to be sure!
LIEUT. But heaven ha' mercy, whom wouldst thou marry?
FAIRFAX Nay, I am indifferent on that score. Coming Death hath
made of me a true and chivalrous knight, who holds all
womankind in such esteem that the oldest, and the
meanest, and the worst-favoured of them is good enough
for him. So, my good Lieutenant, if thou wouldst serve
a poor soldier who has but an hour to live, find me
the first that comes— my confessor shall marry us, and
her dower shall be my dishonoured name and a hundred
crowns to boot. No such poor dower for an hour of
matrimony!
LIEUT. A strange request. I doubt that I should be warranted
in granting it.
FAIRFAX There never was a marriage fraught with so little of
evil to the contracting parties. In an hour she'll be
a widow, and I— a bachelor again for aught I know!
LIEUT. Well, I will see what can be done, for I hold thy
kinsman in abhorrence for the scurvy trick he has
played thee.
FAIRFAX A thousand thanks, good sir; we meet again in this
spot in an hour or so. I shall be a bridegroom then,
and your worship will wish me joy. Till then,
farewell. [To GUARD] I am ready, good fellows.
[Exit with GUARD into Cold Harbour Tower]
LIEUT. He is a brave fellow, and it is a pity that he should
die. Now, how to find him a bride at such short
notice? Well, the task should be easy! [Exit]
[Enter JACK POINT and ELSIE MAYNARD, pursued by a CROWD of
men and women. POINT and ELSIE are much terrified; POINT,
however, assuming an appearance of self-possession.

No. 6. Here's a man of jollity
(CHORUS)
People, Elsie, and Jack Point
CHORUS Here's a man of jollity,
Jibe, joke, jollify!
Give us of your quality,
Come, fool, follify!
If you vapour vapidly,
River runneth rapidly,
Into it we fling
Bird who doesn't sing!
Give us an experiment
In the art of merriment;
Into it we throw
Cock who doesn't crow!
Banish your timidity,
And with all rapidity
Give us quip and quiddity—
Willy-nilly, O!
River none can mollify;
Into it we throw
Fool who doesn't follify,
Cock who doesn't crow!
Banish your timidity,
And with all rapidity
Give us quip and quiddity—
Willy-nilly, O!
POINT [alarmed] My masters, I pray you bear with us, and we
will satisfy you, for we are merry folk who would make
all merry as ourselves. For, look you, there is humour
in all things, and the truest philosophy is that which
teaches us to find it and to make the most of it.
ELSIE [struggling with 1ST CITIZEN] Hands off, I say,
unmannerly fellow! [she boxes his ears]
POINT [to 1ST CITIZEN] Ha! Didst thou hear her say, "Hands
off"?
1ST
CITIZEN Aye, I heard her say it, and I felt her do it! What
then?
POINT Thou dost not see the humour of that?
1ST
CITIZEN Nay, if I do, hang me!
POINT Thou dost not? Now, observe. She said, "Hands off!
"Whose hands? Thine. Off whom? Off her. Why? Because
she is a woman. Now, had she not been a woman, thine
hands had not been set upon her at all. So the reason
for the laying on of hands is the reason for the
taking off of hands, and herein is contradiction
contradicted! It is the very marriage of pro with con;
and no such lopsided union either, as times go, for
pro is not more unlike con than man is unlike woman—
yet men and women marry every day with none to say,
"Oh, the pity of it!" but I and fools like me! Now
wherewithal shall we please you? We can rhyme you
couplet, triolet, quatrain, sonnet,rondolet, ballade,
what you will. Or we can dance you saraband, gondolet,
carole, pimpernel, or Jumping Joan.
ELSIE Let us give them the singing farce of the Merryman and
his Maid— therein is song and dance too.
ALL Aye, the Merryman and his Maid!

No. 7. I have a song to sing, O!
(DUET)
Elsie and Point
POINT I have a song to sing, O!
ELSIE Sing me your song, O!
POINT It is sung to the moon
By a love-lorn loon,
Who fled from the mocking throng, O!
It's a song of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
ELSIE I have a song to sing, O!
POINT Sing me your song, O!
ELSIE It is sung with the ring
Of the songs maids sing
Who love with a love life-long, O!
It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
POINT I have a song to sing, O!
ELSIE Sing me your song, O!
POINT It is sung to the knell
Of a churchyard bell,
And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O!
It's a song of a popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
ELSIE I have a song to sing, O!
POINT Sing me your song, O!
ELSIE It is sung with a sigh
And a tear in the eye,
For it tells of a righted wrong, O!
It's a song of the merrymaid, once so gay,
Who turned on her heel and tripped away
From the peacock popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble heart that he did not prize:
So she begged on her knees, with downcast eyes,
For the love of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
BOTH Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more,
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lack-a-day-dee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more,
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
1ST
CITIZEN Well sung and well danced!
2ND
CITIZEN A kiss for that, pretty maid!
ALL Aye, a kiss all round. [CROWD gathers around her]
ELSIE [drawing dagger] Best beware! I am armed!
POINT Back, sirs— back! This is going too far.
2ND
CITIZEN Thou dost not see the humour of it, eh? Yet there is
humour in all things— even in this. [Trying to kiss
her]
ELSIE Help! Help!
[Enter LIEUTENANT with GUARD. CROWD falls back
LIEUT. What is the pother?
ELSIE Sir, we sang to these folk, and they would have repaid
us with gross courtesy, but for your honour's coming.
LIEUT. [to CROWD] Away with ye! Clear the rabble.
[GUARDS push CROWD off, and go off with them]
Now, my girl, who are you, and what do you here?
ELSIE May it please you, sir, we are two strolling players,
Jack Point and I, Elsie Maynard, at your worship's
service. We go from fair to fair, singing, and
dancing, and playing brief interludes; and so we make
a poor living.
LIEUT. You two, eh? Are ye man and wife?
POINT No, sir; for though I'm a fool, there is a limit to my
folly. Her mother, old Bridget Maynard, travels with
us (for Elsie is a good girl), but the old woman is a-
bed with fever, and we have come here to pick up some
silver to buy an electuary for her.
LIEUT. Hark ye, my girl! Your mother is ill?
ELSIE Sorely ill, sir.
LIEUT. And needs good food, and many things that thou canst
not buy?
ELSIE Alas! sir, it is too true.
LIEUT. Wouldst thou earn an hundred crowns?
ELSIE An hundred crowns! They might save her life!
LIEUT. Then listen! A worthy but unhappy gentleman is to be
beheaded in an hour on this very spot. For sufficient
reasons, he desires to marry before he dies, and he
hath asked me to find him a wife. Wilt thou be that
wife?
ELSIE The wife of a man I have never seen!
POINT Why, sir, look you, I am concerned in this; for though
I am not yet wedded to Elsie Maynard, time works
wonders, and there's no knowing what may be in store
for us. Have we your worship's word for it that this
gentleman will die to-day?
LIEUT. Nothing is more certain, I grieve to say.
POINT And that the maiden will be allowed to depart the very
instant the ceremony is at an end?
LIEUT. The very instant. I pledge my honour that it shall be
so.
POINT An hundred crowns?
LIEUT. An hundred crowns!
POINT For my part, I consent. It is for Elsie to speak.

No. 8. How say you, maiden, will you wed
(TRIO)
Elsie, Point, and Lieutenant
LIEUT. How say you, maiden, will you wed
A man about to lose his head?
For half an hour
You'll be his wife,
And then the dower
Is your for life.
A headless bridegroom why refuse?
If truth the poets tell,
Most bridegrooms, 'ere they marry,
Lose both head and heart as well!
ELSIE A strange proposal you reveal,
It almost makes my senses reel.
Alas! I'm very poor indeed,
And such a sum I sorely need.
My mother, sir, is like to die.
This money life may bring.
Bear this in mind, I pray,
If I consent to do this thing!
POINT Though as a general rule of life
I don't allow my promised wife,
My lovely bride that is to be,
To marry anyone but me,
Yet if the fee is promptly paid,
And he, in well-earned grave,
Within the hour is duly laid,
Objection I will waive!
Yes, objection I will waive!
ALL Temptation, oh, temptation,
Were we, I pray, intended
To shun, what e'er our station,
Your fascinations splendid;
Or fall, whene'er we view you,
Head over heels into you?
Head over heels, Head over heels,
Head over heels into you!
Head over heels, Head over heels,
Head over heels, Right into you!
Head over heels, Head over heels, etc.
Temptation, oh, temptation!
[During this, the LIEUTENANT has whispered to WILFRED
(who has entered). WILFRED binds ELSIE's eyes with a
kerchief, and leads her into the Cold Harbour Tower
LIEUT. And so, good fellow, you are a jester?
POINT Aye, sir, and like some of my jests, out of place.
LIEUT. I have a vacancy for such an one. Tell me, what are
your qualifications for such a post?
POINT Marry, sir, I have a pretty wit. I can rhyme you
extempore; I can convulse you with quip and
conundrum;I have the lighter philosophies at my
tongue's tip; I can be merry, wise, quaint, grim, and
sardonic, one by one, or all at once; I have a pretty
turn for anecdote; I know all the jests— ancient and
modern— past, present, and to come; I can riddle you
from dawn of day to set of sun, and, if that content
you not, well on to midnight and the small hours. Oh,
sir, a pretty wit, I warrant you— a pretty, pretty
wit!

No. 9. I've jibe and joke
(SONG)
Point
POINT I've jibe and joke
And quip and crank
For lowly folk
And men of rank.
I ply my craft
And know no fear.
But aim my shaft
At prince or peer.
At peer or prince— at prince or peer,
I aim my shaft and know no fear!
I've wisdom from the East and from the West,
That's subject to no academic rule;
You may find it in the jeering of a jest,
Or distil it from the folly of a fool.
I can teach you with a quip, if I've a mind;
I can trick you into learning with a laugh;
Oh, winnow all my folly, folly, folly, and
you'll find
A grain or two of truth among the chaff!
Oh, winnow all my folly, folly, folly, and
you'll find
A grain or two of truth among the chaff!
I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,
The upstart I can wither with a whim;
He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,
But his laughter has an echo that is grim.
When they're offered to the world in merry
guise,
Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will,
For he who'd make his fellow,
fellow, fellow creatures wise
Should always gild the philosophic pill!
For he who'd make his fellow,
fellow, fellow creatures wise
Should always gild the philosophic pill!
LIEUT. And how came you to leave your last employ?
POINT Why, sir, it was in this wise. My Lord was the
Archbishop of Canterbury, and it was considered that
one of my jokes was unsuited to His Grace's family
circle. In truth, I ventured to ask a poor riddle,
sir— Wherein lay the difference between His Grace and
poor Jack Point? His Grace was pleased to give it up,
sir. And thereupon I told him that whereas His Grace
was paid 10,000 a year for being good, poor Jack Point
was good— for nothing. 'Twas but a harmless jest, but
it offended His Grace, who whipped me and set me in
the stocks for a scurril rogue, and so we parted. I
had as lief not take post again with the dignified
clergy.
LIEUT. But I trust you are very careful not to give offence.
I have daughters.
POINT Sir, my jests are most carefully selected, and
anything objectionable is expunged. If your honour
pleases, I will try then first on your honour's
chaplain.
LIEUT. Can you give me an example? Say that I had sat me down
hurriedly on something sharp?
POINT Sir, I should say that you had sat down on the spur of
the moment.
LIEUT. Humph! I don't think much of that. Is that the best
you can do?
POINT It has always been much admired, sir, but we will try
again.
LIEUT. Well, then, I am at dinner, and the joint of meat is
but half cooked.
POINT Why then, sir, I should say that what is underdone
cannot be helped.
LIEUT. I see. I think that manner of thing would be somewhat
irritating.
POINT At first, sir, perhaps; but use is everything, and you
would come in time to like it.
LIEUT. We will suppose that I caught you kissing the kitchen
wench under my very nose.
POINT Under her very nose, good sir— not under yours! That
is where I would kiss her. Do you take me? Oh, sir, a
pretty wit— a pretty, pretty wit!
LIEUT. The maiden comes. Follow me, friend, and we will
discuss this matter at length in my library.
POINT I am your worship's servant. That is to say, I trust
I soon shall be. But, before proceeding to a more
serious topic, can you tell me, sir, why a cook's
brain-pan is like an overwound clock?
LIEUT. A truce to this fooling— follow me.
POINT Just my luck; my best conundrum wasted!
[Exeunt LIEUTENANT and POINT. Enter ELSIE from Tower, led
by WILFRED, who removes the bandage from her eyes, and
exits.
No. 10. 'Tis done! I am a bride!
(RECITATIVE AND SONG)
Elsie
ELSIE 'Tis done! I am a bride! Oh, little ring,
That bearest in thy circlet all the gladness
That lovers hope for, and that poets sing,
What bringest thou to me but gold and sadness?
A bridegroom all unknown, save in this wise,
To-day he dies! To-day, alas, he dies!
Though tear and long-drawn sigh
Ill fit a bride,
No sadder wife than I
The whole world wide!
Ah me! Ah me!
Yet maids there be
Who would consent to lose
The very rose of youth,
The flow'r of life,
To be, in honest truth,
A wedded wife,
No matter whose!
No matter whose!
Ah me! what profit we,
O maids that sigh,
Though gold, though gold should live
If wedded love must die?
Ere half an hour has rung,
A widow I!
Ah, heaven, he is too young,
Too brave to die!
Ah me! Ah me!
Yet wives there be
So weary worn, I trow,
That they would scarce complain,
So that they could
In half an hour attain
To widowhood,
No matter how!
No matter how!
O weary wives
Who widowhood would win,
Rejoice, rejoice, that ye have time
To weary in.
O weary wives
Who widowhood would win,
Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice,
that ye have time
O weary, weary wives, rejoice!
[Exit ELSIE as WILFRED re-enters.
WILFRED [looking after ELSIE] 'Tis an odd freak for a dying
man and his confessor to be closeted alone with a
strange singing girl. I would fain have espied them,
but they stopped up the keyhole. My keyhole!
[Enter PHOEBE with SERGEANT MERYLL. MERYLL remains in the
background, unobserved by WILFRED.
PHOEBE [aside] Wilfred— and alone!
WILFRED Now what could he have wanted with her? That's what
puzzles me!
PHOEBE [aside] Now to get the keys from him.
[Aloud] Wilfred— has no reprieve arrived?
WILFRED None. Thine adored Fairfax is to die.
PHOEBE Nay, thou knowest that I have naught but pity for the
poor condemned gentleman.
WILFRED I know that he who is about to die is more to thee
than I, who am alive and well.
PHOEBE Why, that were out of reason, dear Wilfred. Do they
not say that a live ass is better than a dead lion?
No, I didn't mean that!
WILFRED Oh, they say that, do they?
PHOEBE It's unpardonably rude of them, but I believe they put
it in that way. Not that it applies to thee, who art
clever beyond all telling!
WILFRED Oh yes, as an assistant-tormentor.
PHOEBE Nay, as a wit, as a humorist, as a most philosophic
commentator on the vanity of human resolution.
[PHOEBE slyly takes bunch of keys from WILFRED's waistband
and hands them to MERYLL, who enters the Tower, unnoticed
by WILFRED.
WILFRED Truly, I have seen great resolution give way under my
persuasive methods [working with a small thumbscrew].
In the nice regulation of a thumbscrew— in the
hundredth part of a single revolution lieth all the
difference between stony reticence and a torrent of
impulsive unbosoming that the pen can scarcely follow.
Ha! ha! I am a mad wag.
PHOEBE [with a grimace] Thou art a most light-hearted and
delightful companion, Master Wilfred. Thine anecdotes
of the torture-chamber are the prettiest hearing.
WILFRED I'm a pleasant fellow an' I choose. I believe I am the
merriest dog that barks. Ah, we might be passing happy
together—
PHOEBE Perhaps. I do not know.
WILFRED For thou wouldst make a most tender and loving wife.
PHOEBE Aye, to one whom I really loved. For there is a wealth
of love within this little heart— saving up for— I
wonder whom? Now, of all the world of men, I wonder
whom? To think that he whom I am to wed is now alive
and somewhere! Perhaps far away, perhaps close at
hand! And I know him not! It seemeth that I am wasting
time in not knowing him.
WILFRED Now say that it is I— nay! suppose it for the nonce.
Say that we are wed— suppose it only— say that thou
art my very bride, and I thy cherry, joyous, bright,
frolicsome husband— and that, the day's work being
done, and the prisoners stored away for the night,
thou and I are alone together— with a long, long
evening before us!
PHOEBE [with a grimace] It is a pretty picture— but I
scarcely know. It cometh so unexpectedly— and yet—and
yet— were I thy bride—
WILFRED Aye!— wert thou my bride—?
PHOEBE Oh, how I would love thee!

No. 11. Were I thy bride
(SONG)
Phoebe
PHOEBE Were I thy bride,
Then all the world beside
Were not too wide
To hold my wealth of love—
Were I thy bride!
Upon thy breast
My loving head would rest,
As on her nest
The tender turtle dove—
Were I thy bride!
This heart of mine
Would be one heart with thine,
And in that shrine
Our happiness would dwell—
Were I thy bride!
And all day long
Our lives should be a song:
No grief, no wrong
Should make my heart rebel—
Were I thy bride!
The silvery flute,
The melancholy lute,
Were night-owl's hoot
To my low-whispered coo—
Were I thy bride!
The skylark's trill
Were but discordance shrill
To the soft thrill
Of wooing as I'd woo—
Were I thy bride!
[MERYLL re-enters; gives keys to PHOEBE, who replaces
them at WILFRED's girdle, unnoticed by him. Exit
MERYLL.
The rose's sigh
Were as a carrion's cry
To lullaby
Such as I'd sing to thee,
Were I thy bride!
A feather's press
Were leaden heaviness to my caress.
But then, of course, you see,
I'm not thy bride.
[Exit PHOEBE
WILFRED No, thou'rt not— not yet! But, Lord, how she woo'd; I
should be no mean judge of wooing, seeing that I have
been more hotly woo'd than most men. I have been woo'd
by maid, widow, and wife. I have been woo'd boldly,
timidly, tearfully, shyly— by direct assault, by
suggestion, by implication, by inference, and by
innuendo. But this wooing is not of the common order;
it is the wooing of one who must needs me, if she die
for it!
[Exit WILFRED. Enter SERGEANT MERRILL, cautiously, from
Tower.
MERYLL [looking after them] The deed is, so far, safely
accomplished. The slyboots, how she wheedled him! What
a helpless ninny is a love-sick man! He is but as a
lute in a woman's hands— she plays upon him whatever
tune she will. But the Colonel comes. I' faith, he's
just in time, for the Yeomen parade here for his
execution in two minutes!
[Enter FAIRFAX, without beard and moustache, and dressed in
Yeoman's uniform.
FAIRFAX My good and kind friend, thou runnest a grave risk for
me!
MERYLL Tut, sir, no risk. I'll warrant none here will
recognise you. You make a brave Yeoman, sir! So— this
ruff is too high; so— and the sword should hang thus.
Here is your halbert, sir; carry it thus. The Yeomen
come. Now, remember, you are my brave son, Leonard
Meryll.
FAIRFAX If I may not bear mine own name, there is none other
I would bear so readily.
MERYLL Now, sir, put a bold face on it, for they come.