Irish Landlord (boycotted). "Pat, my man, I'm in no end of a hurry. Put the Pony to, and drive me to the Station, and I'll give ye Half a Sovereign!"
Pat (Nationalist, but needy). "Och shure, it's more than me Loife is worth to be seen droiving you, yer Honour. But"—(slily)—"if yer Honour would jist Droive me, maybe it's meself that moight venture it!"
"SWEET-MARJORIE!"
Change for a Tenor. Wilfred of Huntington is succeeded by that Man of Mark—Tapley.
Take it all in all, Marjorie at the Prince of "Wales' is a very satisfactory production. The subject is English, the music is English, and the "book" is English too. So when we applaud the new Opera, we have the satisfaction of knowing that our cheers are given in the cause of native talent triumphant. This is appropriate to the "time" of the play (the commencement of the thirteenth century), which is the very epoch when the Saxons were beginning to hold their own in the teeth of their Norman conquerors. But leaving patriotism out of the question (a matter which, it is to be feared, is not likely to influence Stalls, Pit, and Gallery materially for a very lengthened period), the Opera quâ Opera is a very good one. The company is strong—so strong, that it hears the loss of an accomplished songstress like Miss Huntington without severely suffering. It is true that an excellent substitute for the lady has been found in that tenor with the cheerful name, Mr. Mark Tapley, whose notes are certainly worth their weight in gold; but leaving the representatives of Wilfred "outside the competition," the remainder of the Dramatis Personæ are excellent. They work well together, and consequently the ensemble is in the highest degree pleasing.
Assistance of rather a graver character than usually associated with comic opera is naturally afforded by Mr. Haydyn Coffin. Miss Phyllis Broughton is introduced not only to sing but to dance, and performs the latter accomplishment with a grace not to be surpassed, and only to be equalled by Miss Kate Vaughan. Mr. Ashley, now happily returned to the melodious paths from which he strayed to play in pieces of the calibre of Pink Dominoes, seems quite at home in the character of Sir Simon—not "the Cellarer," but rather, "the sold one." Mr. Monkhouse, whose name and personality go to prove that a cowl does not preclude its occasional occupation by a wag, is most amusing as Gosric. Mr. Albert James is a lively jester, whose quips and cranks might have been of considerable value to Mr. Joseph Miller when that literary droll was engaged in compiling his comic classic. Miss D'arville and Madame Amadi both work with a will, and find a way to public favour. The dresses are in excellent taste, and the scenery capital.
That the mise en scène is perfect, goes without saying, as this Opera has been produced by that past master of stage-direction, the one and only Augustus Druriolanus. The dialogue is sufficiently pointed—not too pointed, but pointed enough. It does not require a knowledge of the niceties of the law, the regulations of the British army, or a keen appreciation of the subtlest subtleties of logic to fully understand it. It is amusing, and provocative of innocent laughter, which, after all, seems to be a sufficient recommendation for words spoken within the walls of a play-house. The music is full of melody—"quite killing," as a young lady wittily observed, on noticing that the name of the Composer was Slaughter. So Marjorie may be fairly said not only to have deserved success, but (it is satisfactory to be able to add) also to have attained it.
One Who has Practised at the Musical Bar.