King: My daughters, we are about to attempt a very solemn ceremo- nial, so no giggling, if you please. Now, my Lord Chamber- lain, we are ready.

Lord D.: Then, ladies and gentlemen, places, if you please. His Maj- esty will take his place in front of the throne, and will be so obliging as to embrace all the debutantes. (LADY SOPHY much shocked.)

King: What—must I really?

Lord D.: Absolutely indispensable.

King: More jam for the Palace Peeper!

(The King takes his place in front of the throne, the Princess Zara on his left, the two younger Princesses on the left of Zara.)

King: Now, is every one in his place?

Lord D.: Every one is in his place.

King: Then let the revels commence.

(Enter the ladies attending the Drawing-Room. They give their cards to the Groom-in-Waiting, who passes them to the Lord-in-Waiting, who passes them to the Vice-Chamberlain, who passes them to the Lord Chamberlain, who reads the names to the King as each lady approaches. The ladies curtsey in succession to the King and the three Princesses, and pass out. When all the presentations have been accomplished, the King, Princesses, and Lady Sophy come forward, and all the ladies re-enter.)

RECITATIVE — King

This ceremonial our wish displays To copy all Great Britain's courtly ways. Though lofty aims catastrophe entail, We'll gloriously succeed or nobly fail!

UNACCOMPANIED CHORUS

Eagle High in Cloudland soaring— Sparrow twittering on a reed— Tiger in the jungle roaring— Frightened fawn in grassy mead— Let the eagle, not the sparrow, Be the object of your arrow— Fix the tiger with your eye— Pass the fawn in pity by. Glory then will crown the day— Glory, glory, anyway!

Exit all.

Enter Scaphio and Phantis, now dressed as judges in red and ermine robes and undress wigs. They come down stage melodramatically — working together.

DUET — Scaphio and Phantis.

Sca.: With fury deep we burn

Phan.: We do—

Sca.: We fume with smothered rage—

Phan.: We do—

Sca.: These Englishmen who rule supreme, Their undertaking they redeem By stifling every harmless scheme In which we both engage—

Phan.: They do—

Sca.: In which we both engage—

Phan.: We think it is our turn—

Sca.: We do—

Phan.: We think our turn has come—

Sca.: We do.

Phan.: These Englishmen, they must prepare To seek at once their native air. The King as heretofore, we swear, Shall be beneath our thumb—

Sca.: He shall—

Phan.: Shall be beneath out thumb—

Sca.: He shall.

Both: (with great energy) For this mustn't be, and this won't do. If you'll back me, then I'll back you, No, this won't do, No, this mustn't be. With fury deep we burn...

Enter the King.

King: Gentlemen, gentlemen—really! This unseemly display of energy within the Royal precincts is altogether unpardon- able. Pray, what do you complain of?

Scaphio: (furiously) What do we complain of? Why, through the innovations introduced by the Flowers of Progress all our harmless schemes for making a provision for our old age are ruined. Our Matrimonial Agency is at a standstill, our Cheap Sherry business is in bankruptcy, our Army Clothing contracts are paralyzed, and even our Society paper, the Palace Peeper, is practically defunct!

King: Defunct? Is that so? Dear, dear, I am truly sorry.

Scaphio: Are you aware that Sir Bailey Barre has introduced a law of libel by which all editors of scurrilous newspapers are pub- licly flogged—as in England? And six of our editors have resigned in succession! Now, the editor of a scurrilous paper can stand a good deal—he takes a private thrashing as a matter of course—it's considered in his salary—but no gentleman likes to be publicly flogged.

King: Naturally. I shouldn't like it myself.

Phantis: Then our Burlesque Theater is absolutely ruined!

King: Dear me. Well, theatrical property is not what it was.

Phantis: Are you aware that the Lord Chamberlain, who has his own views as to the best means of elevating the national drama, has declined to license any play that is not in blank verse and three hundred years old—as in England?

Scaphio: And as if that wasn't enough, the County Councillor has or- dered a four-foot wall to be built up right across the proscenium, in case of fire—as in England.

Phantis: It's so hard on the company—who are liable to be roasted alive—and this has to be met by enormously increased salaries—as in England.

Scaphio: You probably know that we've contracted to supply the entire nation with a complete English outfit. But perhaps you do not know that, when we send in our bills, our customers plead liability limited to a declared capital of eighteenpence, and apply to be dealt with under the Winding-up Act—as in England?

King: Really, gentlemen, this is very irregular. If you will be so good as to formulate a detailed list of your grievances in writing, addressed to the Secretary of Utopia Limited, they will be laid before the Board, in due course, at their next monthly meeting.

Scaphio: Are we to understand that we are defied?

King: That is the idea I intended to convey.

Phantis: Defied! We are defied!

Scaphio: (furiously) Take care—you know our powers. Trifle with us, and you die!

TRIO — Scaphio, Phantis, and King.

Sca.: If you think that, when banded in unity, We may both be defied with impunity, You are sadly misled of a verity!

Phan.: If you value repose and tranquility, You'll revert to a state of docility, Or prepare to regret your temerity!

King.: If my speech is unduly refractory You will find it a course satisfactory At an early Board meeting to show it up. Though if proper excuse you can trump any, You may wind up a Limited Company, You cannot conveniently blow it up!

(Scaphio and Phantis thoroughly baffled)

King.: (Dancing quietly) Whene'er I chance to baffle you I, also, dance a step or two— Of this now guess the hidden sense:

(Scaphio and Phantis consider the question as King continues dancing quietly—then give it up.)

It means complete indifference!

Sca. and Phan.: Of course it does—indifference! It means complete indifference!

(King dancing quietly. Sca. and Phan. dancing furiously.)

Sca. and Phan.: As we've a dance for every mood With pas de trois we will conclude, What this may mean you all may guess— It typifies remorselessness!

King.: It means unruffled cheerfulness!

(King dances off placidly as Scaphio and Phantis dance furiously.)

Phantis: (breathless) He's right—we are helpless! He's no longer a human being—he's a Corporation, and so long as he confines himself to his Articles of Association we can't touch him! What are we to do?

Scaphio: Do? Raise a Revolution, repeal the Act of Sixty-Two, recon- vert him into an individual, and insist on his immediate ex- plosion! (Tarara enters.) Tarara, come here; you're the very man we want.

Tarara: Certainly, allow me. (Offers a cracker to each; they snatch them away impatiently.) That's rude.

Scaphio: We have no time for idle forms. You wish to succeed to the throne?

Tarara: Naturally.

Scaphio: Then you won't unless you join us. The King has defied us, and, as matters stand, we are helpless. So are you. We must devise some plot at once to bring the people about his ears.

Tarara: A plot?

Phantis: Yes, a plot of superhuman subtlety. Have you such a thing about you?

Tarara: (feeling) No, I think not. No. There's one on my dressing-table.

Scaphio: We can't wait—we must concoct one at once, and put it into execution without delay. There is not a moment to spare!

TRIO — Scaphio, Phantis, and Tarara.

Ensemble

With wily brain upon the spot A private plot we'll plan, The most ingenious private plot Since private plots began. That's understood. So far we've got And, striking while the iron's hot, We'll now determine like a shot The details of this private plot.

Sca.: I think we ought—(whispers) Phan. and Tar.: Such bosh I never heard! Phan.: Ah! happy thought!—(whispers) Sca. and Tar.: How utterly dashed absurd! Tar.: I'll tell you how—(whispers) Sca and Phan.: Why, what put that in your head? Sca.: I've got it now—(whispers) Phan. and Tar.: Oh, take him away to bed! Phan.: Oh, put him to bed! Tar.: Oh, put him to bed! Sca.: What, put me to bed? Phan. and Tar.: Yes, certainly put him to bed! Sca.: But, bless me, don't you see— Phan.: Do listen to me, I pray— Tar.: It certainly seems to me— Sca.: Bah—this is the only way! Phan.: It's rubbish absurd you growl! Tar.: You talk ridiculous stuff! Sca.: You're a drivelling barndoor owl! Phan.: You're a vapid and vain old muff!

(All, coming down to audience.)

So far we haven't quite solved the plot— They're not a very ingenious lot— But don't be unhappy, It's still on the tapis, We'll presently hit on a capital plot!

Sca.: Suppose we all—(whispers) Phan.: Now there I think you're right. Then we might all—(whispers) Tar.: That's true, we certainly might. I'll tell you what—(whispers) Sca.: We will if we possibly can. Then on the spot— (whispers) Phan. and Tar.: Bravo! A capital plan! Sca.: That's exceedingly neat and new! Phan.: Exceedingly new and neat. Tar.: I fancy that that will do. Sca.: It's certainly very complete. Phan.: Well done you sly old sap! Tar.: Bravo, you cunning old mole! Sca.: You very ingenious chap! Phan.: You intellectual soul!

(All, coming down and addressing audience.)

At last a capital plan we've got We won't say how and we won't say what: It's safe in my noddle— Now off we will toddle, And slyly develop this capital plot!

(Business. Exeunt Scaphio and Phantis in one direction, and Tarara in the other.)

(Enter Lord Dramaleigh and Mr. Goldbury.)

Lord D.: Well, what do you think of our first South Pacific Drawing-Room? Allowing for a slight difficulty with the trains, and a little want of familiarity with the use of the rouge-pot, it was, on the whole, a meritorious affair?

Gold.: My dear Dramaleigh, it redounds infinitely to your credit.

Lord D.: One or two judicious innovations, I think?

Gold.: Admirable. The cup of tea and the plate of mixed biscuits were a cheap and effective inspiration.

Lord D.: Yes—my idea entirely. Never been done before.

Gold.: Pretty little maids, the King's youngest daughters, but timid.

Lord D.: That'll wear off. Young.

Gold.: That'll wear off. Ha! here they come, by George! And with- out the Dragon! What can they have done with her?

(Enter Nekaya and Kalyba timidly.)

Nekaya: Oh, if you please, Lady Sophy has sent us in here, because Zara and Captain Fitzbattleaxe are going on, in the garden, in a manner which no well-conducted young ladies ought to witness.

Lord D.: Indeed, we are very much obliged to her Ladyship.

Kalyba: Are you? I wonder why.

Nekaya: Don't tell us if it's rude.

Lord D.: Rude? Not at all. We are obliged to Lady Sophy because she has afforded us the pleasure of seeing you.

Nekaya: I don't think you ought to talk to us like that.

Kalyba: It's calculated to turn our heads.

Nekaya: Attractive girls cannot be too particular.

Kalyba: Oh pray, pray do not take advantage of our unprotected inno- cence.

Gold.: Pray be reassured—you are in no danger whatever.

Lord D.: But may I ask—is this extreme delicacy—this shrinking sensitiveness—a general characteristic of Utopian young ladies?

Nekaya: Oh no; we are crack specimens.

Kalyba: We are the pick of the basket. Would you mind not coming quite so near? Thank you.

Nekaya: And please don't look at us like that; it unsettles us.

Kalyba: And we don't like it. At least, we do like it; but it's wrong.

Nekaya: We have enjoyed the inestimable privilege of being educated by a most refined and easily shocked English lady, on the very strictest English principles.

Gold.: But, my dear young ladies—-

Kalyba: Oh, don't! You mustn't. It's too affectionate.

Nekaya: It really does unsettle us.

Gold.: Are you really under the impression that English girls are so ridiculously demure? Why, an English girl of the highest type is the best, the most beautiful, the bravest, and the brightest creature that Heaven has conferred upon this world of ours. She is frank, open-hearted, and fearless, and never shows in so favorable a light as when she gives her own blameless impulses full play!

Nekaya Oh, you shocking story! and Kalyba:

Gold.: Not at all. I'm speaking the strict truth. I'll tell you all about her.

SONG — Mr. Goldbury.

A wonderful joy our eyes to bless, In her magnificent comeliness, Is an English girl of eleven stone two, And five foot ten in her dancing shoe! She follows the hounds, and on the pounds— The "field" tails off and the muffs diminish—

Over the hedges and brooks she bounds, Straight as a crow, from find to finish. At cricket, her kin will lose or win— She and her maids, on grass and clover, Eleven maids out—eleven maids in— And perhaps an occasional "maiden over!"

Go search the world and search the sea, Then come you home and sing with me There's no such gold and no such pearl As a bright and beautiful English girl!

With a ten-mile spin she stretches her limbs, She golfs, she punts, she rows, she swims— She plays, she sings, she dances, too, From ten or eleven til all is blue! At ball or drum, til small hours come (Chaperon's fans concealing her yawning) She'll waltz away like a teetotum. And never go home til daylight's dawning. Lawn-tennis may share her favours fair— Her eyes a-dance, and her cheeks a-glowing— Down comes her hair, but then what does she care? It's all her own and it's worth the showing! Go search the world, etc.

Her soul is sweet as the ocean air, For prudery knows no haven there; To find mock-modesty, please apply To the conscious blush and the downcast eye. Rich in the things contentment brings, In every pure enjoyment wealthy, Blithe and beautiful bird she sings, For body and mind are hale and healthy. Her eyes they thrill with right goodwill— Her heart is light as a floating feather— As pure and bright as the mountain rill That leaps and laughs in the Highland heather! Go search the world, etc.

QUARTET

Nek.: Then I may sing and play?

Lord D.: You may!

Kal.: Then I may laugh and shout?

Gold.: No doubt!.

Nek.: These maxims you endorse?

Lord D.: Of course!

Kal.: You won't exclaim "Oh fie!"

Gold.: Not I!

Gold: Whatever you are—be that: Whatever you say—be true: Straightforwardly act— Be honest—in fact, Be nobody else but you.

Lord D.: Give every answer pat— Your character true unfurl; And when it is ripe, You'll then be a type Of a capital English girl.

All.: Oh sweet surprise—oh, dear delight, To find it undisputed quite, All musty, fusty rules despite That Art is wrong and Nature right!

Nek.: When happy I, With laughter glad I'll wake the echoes fairly, And only sigh When I am sad— And that will be but rarely!

Kal.: I'll row and fish, And gallop, soon— No longer be a prim one— And when I wish To hum a tune, It needn't be a hymn one?

Gold and Lord D.: No, no! It needn't be a hymn one!

All (dancing): Oh, sweet surprise and dear delight To find it undisputed quite— All musty, fusty rules despite— That Art is wrong and Nature right!

(Dance, and off) (Enter Lady Sophy)

RECITATIVE — Lady Sophy.

Oh, would some demon power the gift impart To quell my over-conscientious heart— Unspeak the oaths that never had been spoken, And break the vows that never should be broken!

SONG — Lady Sophy

When but a maid of fifteen year, Unsought—unplighted— Short petticoated—and, I fear, Still shorter-sighted— I made a vow, one early spring, That only to some spotless King Who proof of blameless life could bring I'd be united. For I had read, not long before, Of blameless kings in fairy lore, And thought the race still flourished here— Well, well— I was a maid of fifteen year!

(The King enters and overhears this verse)

Each morning I pursued my game (An early riser); For spotless monarchs I became An advertiser: But all in vain I searched each land, So, kingless, to my native strand Returned, a little older, and A good deal wiser!

I learnt that spotless King and Prince Have disappeared some ages since— Even Paramount's angelic grace— Ah me!— Is but a mask on Nature's face! (King comes forward)

King: Ah, Lady Sophy—then you love me! For so you sing—

Lady S.: (Indignant and surprise. Producing "Palace Peeper") No, by the stars that shine above me, Degraded King! For while these rumours, through the city bruited, Remain uncontradicted, unrefuted, The object thou of my aversion rooted, Repulsive thing!

King: Be just—the time is now at hand When truth may published be. These paragraphs were written and Contributed by me!

Lady S.: By you? No, no!

King: Yes, yes. I swear, by me! I, caught in Scaphio's ruthless toil, Contributed the lot!

Lady S.: That that is why you did not boil The author on the spot!

King: And that is why I did not boil The author on the spot!

Lady S.: I couldn't think why you did not boil!

King: But I know why I did not boil The author on the spot!

DUET — Lady Sophy and King

Lady S.: Oh, the rapture unrestrained Of a candid retractation! For my sovereign has deigned A convincing explanation— And the clouds that gathered o'er All have vanished in the distance, And the Kings of fairy lore One, at least, is in existence!

King: Oh, the skies are blue above, And the earth is red and rosal, Now the lady of my love Has accepted my proposal! For that asinorum pons I have crossed without assistance, And of prudish paragons One, at least, is in existence!

(King and Lady Sophy dance gracefully. While this is going on Lord Dramaleigh enters unobserved with Nekaya and Capt. Fitzbattleaxe. The two girls direct Zara's attention to the King and Lady Sophy, who are still dancing affectionately together. At this point the King kisses Lady Sophy, which causes the Princesses to make an exclamation. The King and Lady Sophy are at first much confused at being detected, but eventually throw off all reserve, and the four couples break into a wild Tarantella, and at the end exeunt severally.)

Enter all the male Chorus, in great excitement, for various entrances, led by Scaphio, Phantis, and Tarara, and followed by the female Chorus.

CHORUS.

Upon our sea-girt land At our enforced command Reform has laid her hand Like some remorseless ogress— And made us darkly rue The deeds she dared to do— And all is owing to Those hated Flowers of Progress!

So down with them! So down with them! Reform's a hated ogress. So down with them! So down with them! Down with the Flowers of Progress!

(Flourish. Enter King, his three daughters, Lady Sophy, and the Flowers of Progress.)

King: What means this most unmannerly irruption? Is this your gratitude for boons conferred?

Scaphio: Boons? Bah! A fico for such boons, say we! These boons have brought Utopia to a standstill! Our pride and boast—the Army and the Navy— Have both been reconstructed and remodeled Upon so irresistible a basis That all the neighboring nations have disarmed— And War's impossible! Your County Councillor Has passed such drastic Sanitary laws That all doctors dwindle, starve, and die! The laws, remodeled by Sir Bailey Barre, Have quite extinguished crime and litigation: The lawyers starve, and all the jails are let As model lodgings for the working-classes! In short—Utopia, swamped by dull Prosperity, Demands that these detested Flowers of Progress Be sent about their business, and affairs Restored to their original complexion!

King: (to Zara) My daughter, this is a very unpleasant state of things. What is to be done?

Zara: I don't know—I don't understand it. We must have omitted something.

King: Omitted something? Yes, that's all very well, but—- (Sir Bailey Barre whispers to Zara.)

Zara: (suddenly) Of course! Now I remember! Why, I had forgot- ten the most essential element of all!

King: And that is?—-

Zara: Government by Party! Introduce that great and glorious element—at once the bulwark and foundation of England's greatness—and all will be well! No political measures will endure, because one Party will assuredly undo all that the other Party has done; and while grouse is to be shot, and foxes worried to death, the legislative action of the coun- try will be at a standstill. Then there will be sickness in plenty, endless lawsuits, crowded jails, interminable confu- sion in the Army and Navy, and, in short, general and unex- ampled prosperity!

All: Ulahlica! Ulahlica!

Phantis: (aside) Baffled!

Scaphio: But an hour will come!

King: Your hour has come already—away with them, and let them wait my will! (Scaphio and Phantis are led off in custody.) From this moment Government by Party is adopted, with all its attendant blessings; and henceforward Utopia will no longer be a Monarchy Limited, but, what is a great deal better, a Limited Monarchy!

FINALE

Zara: There's a little group of isles beyond the wave— So tiny, you might almost wonder where it is— That nation is the bravest of the brave, And cowards are the rarest of all rarities. The proudest nations kneel at her command; She terrifies all foreign-born rapscallions; And holds the peace of Europe in her hand With half a score invincible battalions!

Such, at least, is the tale Which is born on the gale, From the island which dwells in the sea. Let us hope, for her sake That she makes no mistake— That she's all the professes to be!

King: Oh, may we copy all her maxims wise, And imitate her virtues and her charities; And may we, by degrees, acclimatize Her Parliamentary peculiarities! By doing so, we shall in course of time, Regenerate completely our entire land— Great Britain is the monarchy sublime, To which some add (others do not) Ireland. Such at least is the tale, etc.

CURTAIN.



THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD

or

The Merryman and His Maid

Book by W.S. GILBERT

Music by ARTHUR SULLIVAN

First produced at the Savoy Theatre in London, England, on October 3, 1888.

THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD DRAMATIS PERSONAE

SIR RICHARD CHOLMONDELEY [pronounced Chum'lee] (Lieutenant of the Tower) Baritone

COLONEL FAIRFAX (under sentence of death) Tenor

SERGEANT MERYLL (of the Yeomen of the Guard) Bass/Baritone

LEONARD MERYLL (his son) Tenor

JACK POINT (a Strolling Jester) Light Baritone

WILFRED SHADBOLT (Head Jailer and Assistant Tormentor) Bass/Baritone

THE HEADSMAN Non-singing

FIRST YEOMAN Baritone

SECOND YEOMAN Tenor

THIRD YEOMAN [optional] Baritone

FOURTH YEOMAN [optional] Tenor

FIRST CITIZEN Chorus

SECOND CITIZEN Chorus

ELSIE MAYNARD (a Strolling Singer) Soprano

PHOEBE MERYLL (Sergeant Meryll's Daughter) Mezzo-Soprano

DAME CARRUTHERS (Housekeeper to the Tower) Contralto

KATE (her Niece) Soprano

Chorus of YEOMEN of the Guard, GENTLEMEN, CITIZENS, etc.

SCENE: Tower Green

16th Century



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.

No. 12. Oh, Sergeant Meryll, is it true (FINALE OF ACT I) Ensemble

[Enter YEOMEN of the Guard

YEOMEN Oh, Sergeant Meryll, is it true— The welcome news we read in orders? Thy son, whose deeds of derring-do Are echoed all the country through, Has come to join the Tower Warders? If so, we come to meet him, That we may fitly greet him, And welcome his arrival here With shout on shout and cheer on cheer, Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

MERYLL Ye Tower warders, nursed in war's alarms, Suckled on gunpowder, and weaned on glory, Behold my son, whose all-subduing arms Have formed the theme of many a song and story! Forgive his aged father's pride; nor jeer His aged father's sympathetic tear! [Pretending to weep]

YEOMEN Leonard Meryll! Leonard Meryll! Dauntless he in time of peril! Man of power, Knighthood's flower, Welcome to the grim old Tower, To the Tower, welcome thou!

FAIRFAX Forbear, my friends, and spare me this ovation, I have small claim to such consideration; The tales that of my prowess are narrated Have been prodigiously exaggerated, prodigiously exaggerated!

YEOMEN 'Tis ever thus! Wherever valor true is found, True modesty will there abound.

1ST YEOMAN Didst thou not, oh, Leonard Meryll! Standard lost in last campaign, Rescue it at deadly peril— Bear it safely back again?

YEOMEN Leonard Meryll, at his peril, Bore it safely back again!

2ND YEOMAN Didst thou not, when prisoner taken, And debarred from all escape, Face, with gallant heart unshaken, Death in most appalling shape?

YEOMEN Leonard Meryll, faced his peril, Death in most appalling shape!

FAIRFAX [aside] Truly I was to be pitied, Having but an hour to live, I reluctantly submitted, I had no alternative!

FAIRFAX [aloud] Oh! the tales that are narrated Of my deeds of derring-do Have been much exaggerated, Very much exaggerated, Scarce a word of them is true! Scarce a word of them is true!

YEOMEN They are not exaggerated, Not at all exaggerated, Could not be exaggerated, Ev'ry word of them is true!

3RD YEOMAN [optional] You, when brought to execution, Like a demigod of yore, With heroic resolution Snatched a sword and killed a score.

YEOMEN [optional] Leonard Meryll, Leonard Meryll Snatched a sword and killed a score!

4TH YEOMAN [optional] Then escaping from the foemen, Boltered with the blood you shed, You, defiant, fearing no men, Saved your honour and your head!

YEOMEN [optional] Leonard Meryll, Leonard Meryll Saved his honour and his head.

FAIRFAX [optional] True, my course with judgement shaping, Favoured, too, by lucky star, I succeeded in escaping Prison-bolt and prison bar!

FAIRFAX [optional] Oh! the tales that are narrated Of my deeds of derring-do Have been much exaggerated, Very much exaggerated, Scarce a word of them is true! Scarce a word of them is true!

YEOMEN [optional] They are not exaggerated, Not at all exaggerated, Could not be exaggerated, Ev'ry word of them is true!

[Enter PHOEBE. She rushes to FAIRFAX. Enter WILFRED.

PHOEBE Leonard!

FAIRFAX [puzzled] I beg your pardon?

PHOEBE Don't you know me? I'm little Phoebe!

FAIRFAX [still puzzled] Phoebe? Is this Phoebe? What! little Phoebe? [aside] Who the deuce may she be? It can't be Phoebe, surely?

WILFRED Yes, 'tis Phoebe— Your sister Phoebe! Your own little sister!

YEOMEN Aye, he speaks the truth; 'Tis Phoebe!

FAIRFAX [pretending to recognise her] Sister Phoebe!

PHOEBE Oh, my brother!

FAIRFAX Why, how you've grown! I did not recognize you!

PHOEBE So many years! Oh, brother!

FAIRFAX Oh, my sister!

BOTH Oh, brother!/Oh, sister!

WILFRED Aye, hug him, girl! There are three thou mayst hug— Thy father and thy brother and— myself!

FAIRFAX Thyself, forsooth? And who art thou thyself?

WILFRED Good sir, we are betrothed.

[FAIRFAX turns inquiringly to PHOEBE

PHOEBE Or more or less— But rather less than more!

WILFRED To thy fond care I do commend thy sister. Be to her An ever-watchful guardian— eagle-eyed! And when she feels (as sometimes she does feel) Disposed to indiscriminate caress, Be thou at hand to take those favours from her!

YEOMEN Be thou at hand to take those favours from her!

PHOEBE Yes, yes. Be thou at hand to take those favours from me!

WILFRED To thy fraternal care Thy sister I commend; From every lurking snare Thy lovely charge defend; And to achieve this end, Oh! grant, I pray, this boon— Oh! grant this boon She shall not quit my sight; From morn to afternoon— From afternoon to night— From sev'n o'clock to two— From two to eventide— From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night, From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night She shall not quit my side!

YEOMEN From morn to afternoon— From afternoon to 'lev'n at night She shall not quit thy side!

PHOEBE So amiable I've grown, So innocent as well, That if I'm left alone The consequences fell No mortal can foretell. So grant, I pray, this boon— Oh! grant this boon I shall not quit thy sight: From morn to afternoon— From afternoon to night— From sev'n o'clock to two— From two to eventide— From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night I shall not quit thy side!

YEOMEN From morn to afternoon— From afternoon to 'lev'n at night She shall not quit thy side!

FAIRFAX With brotherly readiness, For my fair sister's sake, At once I answer "Yes"— That task I undertake— My word I never break. I freely grant that boon, And I'll repeat my plight. From morn to afternoon— [kiss] From afternoon to night— [kiss] From sev'n o'clock to two— [kiss] From two to evening meal— [kiss] From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night, From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night, That compact I will seal. [kiss]

YEOMEN From morn to afternoon, From afternoon to 'lev'n at night He freely grants that boon.

[The bell of St. Peter's begins to toll. The CROWD enters; the block is brought on to the stage, and the HEADSMAN takes his place. The YEOMEN of the Guard form up. The LIEUTENANT enters and takes his place, and tells off FAIRFAX and two others to bring the prisoner to execution. WILFRED, FAIRFAX, and TWO YEOMEN exeunt to Tower.

CHORUS The prisoner comes to meet his doom; The block, the headsman, and the tomb. The funeral bell begins to toll; May Heav'n have mercy on his soul! May Heav'n have mercy on his soul!

ELSIE Oh, Mercy, thou whose smile has shone So many a captive heart upon; Of all immured within these walls, To-day the very worthiest falls!

ALL Oh, Mercy, thou whose smile has shone So many a captive heart upon; Of all immured within these walls, The very worthiest falls. Oh, Mercy, Oh, Mercy!

[Enter FAIRFAX and TWO YEOMEN from Tower in great excitement.

FAIRFAX My lord! I know not how to tell The news I bear! I and my comrades sought the pris'ner's cell— He is not there!

ALL He is not there! They sought the pris'ner's cell— he is not there!

FAIRFAX AND TWO YEOMEN As escort for the prisoner We sought his cell, in duty bound; The double gratings open were, No prisoner at all we found!

We hunted high, we hunted low, We hunted here, we hunted there— The man we sought with anxious care Had vanished into empty air! The man we sought with anxious care Had vanished into empty air!

[Exit LIEUTENANT

WOMEN Now, by my troth, the news is fair, The man has vanished into air!

ALL As escort for the prisoner We/they sought his cell in duty bound; The double gratings open were, No prisoner at all we/they found, We/they hunted high, we/they hunted low, We/they hunted here, we/they hunted there, The man we/they sought with anxious care Had vanished into empty air! The man we/they sought with anxious care Had vanished into empty air!

[Enter WILFRED, followed by LIEUTENANT

LIEUT. Astounding news! The pris'ner fled! [To WILFRED] Thy life shall forfeit be instead!

[WILFRED is arrested

WILFRED My lord, I did not set him free, I hate the man— my rival he!

MERYLL The pris'ner gone— I'm all agape!

LIEUT. Thy life shall forfeit be instead!

MERYLL Who could have helped him to escape?

WILFRED My lord, I did not set him free!

PHOEBE Indeed I can't imagine who! I've no idea at all, have you?

[Enter JACK POINT

DAME Of his escape no traces lurk, Enchantment must have been at work!

ELSIE [aside to POINT] What have I done? Oh, woe is me!

PHOEBE & DAME Indeed I can't imagine who! I've no idea at all, have you?

ELSIE I am his wife, and he is free!

POINT Oh, woe is you? Your anguish sink! Oh, woe is me, I rather think! Oh, woe is me, I rather think! Yes, woe is me, I rather think! Whate'er betide You are his bride, And I am left Alone— bereft! Yes, woe is me, I rather think! Yes, woe is me, I rather think! Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me, I rather think!

ENSEMBLE All frenzied with despair I/they rave, The grave is cheated of its due. Who is, who is the misbegotten knave Who hath contrived this deed to do?

Let search, let search Be made throughout the land, Or his/my vindictive anger dread— A thousand marks, a thousand marks he'll/I'll hand Who brings him here, alive or dead, Who brings him here, alive or dead! A thousand marks, a thousand marks, Alive, alive or dead Alive, alive or dead Who brings him here, alive, alive, or dead.

[At the end, ELSIE faints in FAIRFAX's arms; all the YEOMEN and CROWD rush off the stage in different directions, to hunt for the fugitive, leaving only the HEADSMAN on the stage, and ELSIE insensible in FAIRFAX's arms.

END OF ACT I



ACT II

[SCENE.— The same— Moonlight.]

[Two days have elapsed.]

[WOMEN and YEOMEN of the Guard discovered.

No. 13. Night has spread her pall once more (CHORUS AND SOLO) People, Yeomen, and Dame Carruthers

CHORUS Night has spread her pall once more, And the pris'ner still is free: Open is his dungeon door, Useless now his dungeon key. He has shaken off his yoke— How, no mortal man can tell! Shame on loutish jailor-folk— Shame on sleepy sentinel!

[Enter DAME CARRUTHERS and KATE

DAME Warders are ye? Whom do ye ward? Warders are ye? Whom do ye ward? Bolt, bar, and key, Shackle and cord, Fetter and chain, Dungeon and stone, All are in vain— Prisoner's flown! Spite of ye all, he is free— he is free! Whom do ye ward? Pretty warders are ye!

WOMEN Pretty warders are ye! Whom do ye ward? Spite of ye all, he is free— he is free! Whom do ye ward? Pretty warders are ye!

MEN Up and down, and in and out, Here and there, and round about; Ev'ry chamber, ev'ry house, Ev'ry chink that holds a mouse, Ev'ry crevice in the keep, Where a beetle black could creep, Ev'ry outlet, ev'ry drain, Have we searched, but all in vain, all in vain.

WOMEN Warders are ye? Whom do ye ward?

MEN Ev'ry house, ev'ry chink, ev'ry drain,

WOMEN Warders are ye? Whom do ye ward?

MEN Ev'ry chamber, ev'ry outlet, Have we searched, but all in vain.

WOMEN Night has spread her pall once more, And the pris'ner still is free:

MEN Warders are we? Whom do we ward? Whom do we ward? Warders are we? Whom do we ward? Whom do we ward?

WOMEN Open is his dungeon door, Useless his dungeon key!

ALL Spite of us all, he is free, he is free!

MEN Pretty warders are we, he is free! Spite of us all, he is free, he is free!

WOMEN Open is his dungeon door,

MEN Spite of us all, he is free, he is free! Pretty warders are we, he is free! He is free!

WOMEN He is free! He is free! Pretty warders are ye,

ALL He is free! He is free! Pretty warders are ye/we!

[Exeunt all.

[Enter JACK POINT, in low spirits, reading from a huge volume

POINT [reads] "The Merrie Jestes of Hugh Ambrose, No. 7863.The Poor Wit and the Rich Councillor. A certayne poor wit, being an-hungered, did meet a well-fed councillor.'Marry, fool,' quothe the councillor, 'whither away?' 'In truth,' said the poor wag, 'in that I have eaten naught these two dayes, I do wither away, and that right rapidly!' The Councillor laughed hugely, and gave him a sausage." Humph! the councillor was easier to please than my new master the Lieutenant. I would like to take post under that councillor. Ah! 'tis but melancholy mumming when poor heart-broken, jilted Jack Point must needs turn to Hugh Ambrose for original light humour!

[Enter WILFRED, also in low spirits.

WILFRED [sighing] Ah, Master Point!

POINT [changing his manner] Ha! friend jailer! Jailer that wast— jailer that never shalt be more! Jailer that jailed not, or that jailed, if jail he did, so unjailery that 'twas but jerry-jailing, or jailing in joke— though no joke to him who, by unjailerlike jailing, did so jeopardise his jailership. Come, take heart, smile, laugh, wink, twinkle, thou tormentor that tormentest none— thou racker that rackest not— thou pincher out of place— come, take heart, and be merry, as I am!— [aside, dolefully]— as I am!

WILFRED Aye, it's well for thee to laugh. Thou hast a good post, and hast cause to be merry.

POINT [bitterly] Cause? Have we not all cause? Is not the world a big butt of humour, into which all who will may drive a gimlet? See, I am a salaried wit; and is there aught in nature more ridiculous? A poor, dull, heart-broken man, who must needs be merry, or he will be whipped; who must rejoice, lest he starve; who must jest you, jibe you, quip you, crank you, wrack you, riddle you, from hour to hour, from day to day, from year to year, lest he dwindle, perish, starve, pine,and die! Why, when there's naught else to laugh at, I laugh at myself till I ache for it!

WILFRED Yet I have often thought that a jester's calling would suit me to a hair.

POINT Thee? Would suit thee, thou death's head and cross- bones?

WILFRED Aye, I have a pretty wit— a light, airy, joysome wit, spiced with anecdotes of prison cells and the torture chamber. Oh, a very delicate wit! I have tried it on many a prisoner, and there have been some who smiled. Now it is not easy to make a prisoner smile. And it should not be difficult to be a good jester, seeing that thou are one.

POINT Difficult? Nothing easier. Nothing easier. Attend, and I will prove it to thee!

No. 14. Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon (SONG) Point

POINT Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon, If you listen to popular rumour; From morning to night he's so joyous and bright, And he bubbles with wit and good humour! He's so quaint and so terse, Both in prose and in verse; Yet though people forgive his transgression, There are one or two rules that all family fools Must observe, if they love their profession. There are one or two rules, Half-a-dozen, maybe, That all family fools, Of whatever degree, Must observe if they love their profession.

If you wish to succeed as a jester, you'll need To consider each person's auricular: What is all right for B would quite scandalize C (For C is so very particular); And D may be dull, and E's very thick skull Is as empty of brains as a ladle; While F is F sharp, and will cry with a carp, That he's known your best joke from his cradle! When your humour they flout, You can't let yourself go; And it does put you out When a person says, "Oh! I have known that old joke from my cradle!"

If your master is surly, from getting up early (And tempers are short in the morning), An inopportune joke is enough to provoke Him to give you, at once, a month's warning. Then if you refrain, he is at you again, For he likes to get value for money: He'll ask then and there, with an insolent stare, "If you know that you're paid to be funny?" It adds to the tasks Of a merryman's place, When your principal asks, With a scowl on his face, If you know that you're paid to be funny?

Comes a Bishop, maybe, or a solemn D.D.— Oh, beware of his anger provoking! Better not pull his hair— Don't stick pins in his chair; He won't understand practical joking. If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack, You may get a bland smile from these sages; But should it, by chance, be imported from France, Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages! It's a general rule, Tho' your zeal it may quench, If the Family Fool Makes a joke that's too French, Half-a-crown is stopped out of his wages!

Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack, And your senses with toothache you're losing, And you're mopy and flat— they don't fine you for that If you're properly quaint and amusing! Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day, And took with her your trifle of money; Bless your heart, they don't mind— they're exceedingly kind— They don't blame you—as long as you're funny! It's a comfort to feel If your partner should flit, Though you suffer a deal, They don't mind it a bit— They don't blame you—so long as you're funny!

POINT And so thou wouldst be a jester eh?

WILFRED Aye!

POINT Now, listen! My sweetheart, Elsie Maynard, was secretly wed to this Fairfax half an hour ere he escaped.

WILFRED She did well.

POINT She did nothing of the kind, so hold thy peace and perpend. Now, while he liveth she is dead to me and I to her, and so, my jibes and jokes notwithstanding, I am the saddest and the sorriest dog in England!

WILFRED Thou art a very dull dog indeed.

POINT Now, if thou wilt swear that thou didst shoot this Fairfax while he was trying to swim across the river— it needs but the discharge of an arquebus on a dark night— and that he sank and was seen no more, I'll make thee the very Archbishop of jesters, and that in two days'time! Now, what sayest thou?

WILFRED I am to lie?

POINT Heartily. But thy lie must be a lie of circumstance, which I will support with the testimony of eyes, ears,and tongue.

WILFRED And thou wilt qualify me as a jester?

POINT As a jester among jesters. I will teach thee all my original songs, my self-constructed riddles, my own ingenious paradoxes; nay, more, I will reveal to thee the source whence I get them. Now, what sayest thou?

WILFRED Why, if it be but a lie thou wantest of me, I hold it cheap enough, and I say yes, it is a bargain!

No. 15. Hereupon we're both agreed (DUET) Point and Wilfred

BOTH Hereupon we're both agreed, All that we two Do agree to We'll secure by solemn deed, To prevent all Error mental.

POINT You on Elsie are to call With a story Grim and gory;

WILFRED How this Fairfax died, and all I declare to You're to swear to.

POINT I to swear to!

WILFRED I declare to,

POINT I to swear to!

WILFRED I declare to,

BOTH I to swear to,/I declare to, You declare to,/You're to swear to, I to swear to,/I declare to.

BOTH Tell a tale of cock and bull, Of convincing detail full Tale tremendous, Heav'n defend us! What a tale of cock and bull!

In return for your/my own part You are/I am making, undertaking To instruct me/you in the art (Art amazing, wonder raising)

POINT Of a jester, jesting free. Proud position— High ambition!

WILFRED And a lively one I'll be, Wag-a-wagging, Never flagging!

POINT Wag-a-wagging,

WILFRED Never flagging,

POINT Wag-a-wagging,

WILFRED Never flagging,

BOTH Never flagging,/Wag-a-wagging, Wag-a-wagging,/Never flagging, Never flagging,/Wag-a-wagging!

BOTH Tell a tale of cock and bull, Of convincing detail full Tale tremendous, Heav'n defend us! What a tale of cock and bull!

POINT What a tale of cock,

WILFRED What a tale of bull!

POINT What a tale of cock,

WILFRED What a tale of bull!

BOTH What a tale of cock and bull, Cock and bull, cock and bull, Heav'n defend us! What a tale of cock and bull!

[Exeunt together.

[Enter FAIRFAX

FAIRFAX Two days gone, and no news of poor Fairfax. The dolts! They seek him everywhere save within a dozen yards of his dungeon. So I am free! Free, but for the cursed haste with which I hurried headlong into the bonds of matrimony with— Heaven knows whom! As far as I remember, she should have been young; but even had not her face been concealed by her kerchief, I doubt whether, in my then plight, I should have taken much note of her. Free? Bah! The Tower bonds were but a thread of silk compared with these conjugal fetters which I, fool that I was, placed upon mine own hands. From the one I broke readily enough— how to break the other!