La Vivandiere : Or True To The Corps! An Operatic Extravaganza Founded On Donizetti's Opera, "La Figlia Del Regimento." |
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Scene IV.
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 | La Vivandiere : Or True To The Corps! |  |
Scene IV.
—Interior of Guard Room, enter Ortensio meeting Tonio dressed as a Soldier.Ort.
Well, Tonio, I suppose you've heard the news,
Our Vivandiere beloved, we soon shall lose.
Tonio.
Maria!
Ort.
Yes, Maria, as we named her.
The Marchioness of Birkenfelt has claimed her.
(Exit.)
Tonio.
Burked? Agony! Then we shall parted be?
Oh, how this Burkin' will be felt by me.
(Enter Maria and Sulpizio.)
Maria, say, is this report quite true?
Sul.
Ah, my young shaver, you may well look blue.
Maria.
Yes, Tonio, we must part for ever.
Tonio.
Why?
Maria.
Because our ranks apart so widely lie.
You, in a private soldier's humble dress,
A marchin' are—and I'm a marchin' ess.
Tonio.
But then, you are so brave, so good to all,
You've always been adored by great and small;
In action, always present, like a brick,
With good strong brandy, tending on the sick,
With pity, evergreen.
Sul.
Green! He's aware.
Her pity takes the form of petit verre.
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For cognac you would never let them pay,
You always put it down, and so did they.
Tonio.
I've always paid my score, though long it be,
For eau-de-vie, I never owed a fee.
Maria.
Farewell, my drum! none could your parchment rap
So well as I.
Sul.
(pointing to her canteen)
I always liked your tap.
Maria.
I ne'er shall beat you more, Adoo! Adoo!
I bid a long tata to my tattoo.
Trio—Tonio, Maria and Sulpizio.
Air—“Tootle on the Cornet.”
Sul.
Your thoughts when you have left our band,
Will take a wider range,
You'll wear expensive dresses,
And a pocketful of change;
In lavish stream will flow the fount,
Of skilly and of toke,
With more Cigars than you can count;
But no you never smoke,
Our heart was all her own,
To ribbons she has torn it;
To take her from us thus is very
Brutal! brutal! brutal! but I've borne it!
Tonio.
You'll go to bed at 5 a.m.
Get up at 12 or 1,
And drive or go to Rotton Row;
And when your ride is done,
You'll lunch at three and then maybe,
Drive out and make a call,
Then drive at eight, and go in state,
To opera and ball.
Maria.
What quite forget my friends?
I beg to say I'd scorn it,
My grief I will embody in a,
Tootle, Tootle, Tootle, on the Cornet.
CORNET SOLO.—Maria.
Maria.
I'll weigh my anchor now, or else I'll melt,—
Say nothing to my mother; if you felt
The weight of her displeasure, you'd not thank her.
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She knows it's heavy, for she's weighed her rancour,
She's now a lady, high in rank and style,
While you, you know, are only rank and vile.
Enter Marchioness and Pumpernickel.
Marchs.
Come, daughter, bid these people all good-bye,
Prepare to start, and don't begin to cry.
Pump.
The train starts in five minutes, as I've reckoned,
To pack up now you've only got a second.
Sul.
A harder case I never, never knew,
Once more, adoo!
(embracing her.)
Maria.
Well if I must—Adoo!
Tonio.
Adoo! (embracing her.)
Maria.
Adoo!
March.
Stop billing it, and cooing it,
Say good-bye and don't be so long a-dooing it.
Tonio.
(desperately.)
Don't take her, madame, or let me go too.
Marchs.
And may I ask, sir, who on earth are you?
From whom descended, from what Royal fountains?
Tonio.
Descended! From Mount Blanc, the King of Mountains!
Marchs.
Descended from the mountain, stupid lout!
Sul.
Yes, he's the mountain heir you've heard about;
The heir-apparent.
Marchs.
Judging from his tone,
An heir much more presumptive ne'er was known;
And what's his character?
Tonio.
It's most illustrious;
I'm cleanly, honest, sober, and industrious.
Pump.
It can't be done, the Marchioness allows
No followers whatever in her hows.
Sul.
(aside to Tonio.)
In silence you must love, for once be cowed.
Tonio.
In silence!
Sul.
Yes, no followers aloud.
(Clock strikes four.
Quintette.—Marchioness, Maria, Tonio, Sulpizio, and Pumpernickel.
Air.—“Din, din, din, din, minuit sonne.”
Marchs.
Din, din, din, din, There's the hour,
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Din, din, din, din, Oh dear, what shall I do!
Pump.
Din, din, din, din, It is fower,
Sul.
Din, din, din, din, This day we all shall rue.
Tonio.
(wildly.)
Oh, for one moment stay, ma'am,
Don't take my love away ma'am,
Or take me too, I pray, ma'am,
Or I shall crazy go!
Marchs.
This man is most annoying!
Sul.
Such words in vain employing!
Pump.
False hope his love is buoying
Maria.
How I love he'll never know.
Bonsoir!
Tonio.
Bonsoir!
Marchs.
Bonsoir!
Sul.
Bonsoir!
(bis)
Exeunt R. & L.
| La Vivandiere : Or True To The Corps! | |