University of Virginia Library

Scene Fourth.

—The Palace of the Sun (1st grooves)
Music.—Enter Apollo, L., in thought.
Apollo.
'Tis very well! but if he should—he might!
Because—why not?—if otherwise—all right:
But no—exactly—not at all—I can—
Impossible!—I have it—that's my plan.
(to audience)
After this lucid course of argument,
Of course you all will guess why here I'm sent.
Prometheus's game is played—that worst of men
Is in a den—a wretched denizen.
By Jove remanded till I can suggest
Enter Venus, unobserved, L. 1 E.
A punishment that suits his crime the best.
I'm at my wit's end!

Venus.
(touching him)
You'd not far to go.

Apollo.
Venus! how could you start a fellah so?

Venus.
Well, have you thought of anything?

Apollo.
Of course;
I mean to tie him on a bare-backed horse.

Venus.
Pooh! we've all seen that long ago; it takes
At Astley's, dear, with the extensive rakes.
His men can save him too.

Apollo.
He's not to die,
But miserably linger.

Venus.
Cruelty!
But now to business, Phœbus—I've a plan!
To please, to plague, in short, to do for man.
A healing balm to wound—a curse to bless him—
A truth to gull—a comfort to distress him;
To bring him all his joys and all his fears,
To set him and his fellows by the ears,
To make the greybeard dote—the youthful sad—
Turn wisdom foolishness, drive reason mad:
To sway the world, and nations' hearts to wring,
To be—

Apollo.
In short—

Venus.
A woman is the thing.

Apollo.
First rate—I'm off to Jove!

Venus.
I'll go with you.
Vulcan's the very man the thing to do.

Apollo.
She'll play the deuce of course?

Venus.
The very thing.
I'm off—farewell! (going, R.)


Apollo.
Stop! we forgot to sing.

Duet.—Air, “I would I were a Bird.” (1st part only)
Apollo.
From what has just occurred,
I think you'll plainly see,
With poor Prometheus now,
'Twill soon be all U P;
I'm off, like any bird,
To give the cue to Jove,
And he, believe my word,
The plan will much approve.

First part of “Guards' Waltz.”
Venus.
I would I were a bird,
Tho' 'tis no use to pray;
And wings I think at times would be,
Absurdly in a woman's way.
I think upon my word,
It is not more outrè,
To wish to be a daisy,
Which shuts up at close of day.

(repeat ensemble—harmonized, and waltz off, R.— hurried Music)
Enter Prometheus, L.
Prometh.
Escaped at length! most cleverly eluded,
I got out smartly, as the other crew did.
What will be done with me? I dare say Jove,
Who's rather anxious for his throne above,
Will seek revenge on his rebellious slavey;
Shut in some cave, he'll make me cry peccavi.
Or, as he cannot touch my life, will try
And make existence one long misery.
Song.—Air, “Constantinople.”
What will become of me. I'd like to know?
Oh! for some friendly help!

(stage dark—Sun-head in flat, illuminated)
Sun.
Hallo!

Prometh.
Hallo!
Good gracious, who are you? Why, see, he winks;
I beg your pardon, are you Stodare's Sphinx?

Sun.
No, I'm an oracle!

Prometh.
What a colossus!
You look more like the famed Anthropoglossus.
But since you're such a swell, perhaps you would'nt
Mind telling me my fortune!

Sun.
No, I should'nt.
Jove has designed your overthrow!

Prometh.
Oh, goodness!

Sun.
Don't interrupt me.

Prometh.
Pardon, pray, my rudeness.

Sun.
He's had a box constructed, which contains
Life's horrors, sorrows, evils, aches, and pains.
This box as dowry to your wife he gives.

Prometh.
I have no wife.

Sun.
'Tis but this hour she lives—
Vulcan has made her!

Prometh.
Here's a pretty pass!

Sun.
One thing should recommend her—she's got brass;
Out of that metal she was fabricated.

Prometh.
To this belle metal, then, it seems I'm mated.

Sun.
Too true—but mind that box.

Apollo.
(outside, L.)
He's gone! hallo!

Prometh.
Apollo's voice! I'd best be off.

Sun.
No go,
I fear; but, run! perhaps my dread is vain;
At all events, my friend, we'll meet again.

(Sun-head disappears.—Lights up.—Prometheus exits, R.)
Enter Apollo and Venus, L.
Apollo.
(R.)
I heard his voice this way!

Venus.
(L., aside)
Yes, so did I!
I won't tell, but the fugitive I spy.
Poor fellow! he's so handsome; 'twould be shame
Just for revenge to spoil his little game.

Apollo.
He must be here about! Yes!

Venus.
What?

Apollo.
(as Captain O'Scuttle, crossing to L.)
Ha! (crossing back to R.)
No!

Venus.
Good gracious, Phœbus! pray don't bellow so.

Apollo.
Bellow, d'ye call it; prettiest of dears,
That bawling's called the music of the spheres!

Venus.
That's not so bad for you.

Apollo.
(looking R.)
What do I see!
Say, do my eyes deceive my ear-sight! He!
They nose, them face, that clothes! It must be so;
Follow me quick! Hallo! Stop thief! Hallo!

Venus.
(detaining him)
They nose, that eyes, those face! how wild you look.

Apollo.
For which you'll blame—Artemus Ward, his book.

(Exeunt, R.)
Enter Outis, L.
Outis.
This sort of woe's too terrible to last;
I don't move much, and yet I'm going fast.
Once I was plump and stout, and full in feature,
Almost as fat as pork, alas! poor creature!
Now, what a different case; what woful plight;
I shouldn't wonder if my hair's turned white. (looks)

No; still the same bright thing it was. Alas!
Matters have come now to a pretty pass.
I'm out upon parole, they don't mind me;
They've only seized upon Prometheus; he
Is sternly waiting for his doom to-day.
What will they do with me, I wonder, pray?
P'raps put me up for marriage! What's the odds!
There'll be some competition 'mongst the gods!
Song.—Air, “Tootle tum tay.”
Ha! Jove approaches—yes, and all the Court;
Down, trembling flutterer, and look out for sport.

Enter Jove and Court, R.—Apollo, Mercury and Neptune get over, L.—Jove, R. C.—Juno, L. C.—Mars, Venus and Minerva, R.
Jove.
(R. C.)
Superb idea! by my crown a bright 'un!
We'll cook the goose of this loose-fish, this Titan!
Apollo, your'e a trump—three cheers for Sol, oh!

(All give three loud cheers)
Mars.
(R. corner)
That's not so bad, Apollo!

Juno.
(L. C.)
We've got no time for shouting, now,

Outis.
(L.)
Great Jove!
(aside)
P'raps, even now, I may his mercy move.

Jove.
What's this? Repulsive hag! Which! What!

Outis.
Good gracious!

Juno.
This woman's conduct here is most audacious!
Seize her!

(Neptune, who is on the L. of Juno, makes a movement as if about to lay hold of her)
Outis.
Seize me! just try and you will rue it!
A seizure, yes! I think I sees yer do it!
(crosses, C., to Juno)
Mercy, great Jove, see how I kneel to thee!
You'll call me hag; behold this hag on knee!
Spare my dear son!

(kneeling)
Jove.
To judge, in vain you tries.

Apollo.
(L. corner)
You've got your son, ma'am, too much in your eyes.

Outis.
Ah! say some kind word in extenuation;
And give your pal, some sort of palliation.
Respect my cries and tears!

Jove.
Oh, those I'm weary on!
A cry or tear of grief is no criterion!

Outis.
Refused! rejected!

Apollo.
Can there be a doubt?

Outis.
Farewell, my blissful visions—

Jove.
There—get out!

Outis.
Get out! Oh!

(collapses—Minerva takes her a little way up stage, trying to restore her)
Jove.
Now, while that old party's sulkin',
Just step and send a telegram to Vulcan.

Merc.
(L.)
He's here!

Enter Vulcan, with a Cyclops bearing a large basket, with no bottom to it, L.
Jove.
Now, Vulcan, is the task completed?
You've had some hard work, and look rather heated.

Vulcan.
It's done. I think you'll own I'm pretty quick.
l'll introduce the lady in a trick.
You see there's nothing in the basket?

(puts basket over trap, C.)
All.
Yes.

Vulcan.
Cyclops, get in. (he does so)
Now all your smiles repress.
(business of Stodare's Indian Basket Feat)
Mars, lend your sword. (crossing to Mars, R.)
Now, if you please, look out.
Have you got down the trap? (to Cyclops)


Cyclops.
No, I'm too stout.
I'm gone now. (goes down trap—chord)


Vulcan.
Then this wondrous deed observe.

(stabbing basket—chord)
Outis.
The murdering wretch! Oh, hasn't he a nerve!

(faints, and is carried off, R., by Minerva, who returns)
All.
Prodigious! Wonderful!

(short hurry, and Pandora rises through basket up trap, C.)
Jove.
(R. C.)
A charming creature!

Venus.
(R.)
So! so!

Miner.
(R.)
There's no expression in a feature!

Juno.
(L. C.)
Too short!

Mercury.
Too tall!

Apollo.
(L.)
Fine eyes, hair not amiss!

Jove.
Truce to your sneers and gibes, I say; drop this.
I hereby give command that every goddess,
Who owns a charm that's fit for human bodies,
If they have anything, be quick in giving,
And let this maid eclipse all after living.
First for her title.

Mars.
(R.)
Silence in the court!

Jove.
This maiden's claim we settle to support.

Mars.
Si-lence!

Jove.
An awful voice—a downright crusher.
Hush!

Mars.
'Tis my business, sir, as I'm a husher.

Jove.
Well, hear me swear by Styx, I grant her fame,
By giving her a most expressive name,
And so I call her—

Mars.
Silence for a floorer!

Jove.
Call her the model woman, and Pandora.
(cheers by All)
And now, Pandora, do not think me grudging,
When I inform you, you must now be trudging.
First take this box, it isn't heavy, feel it;
Don't let a soul beg, borrow it, or steal it;
Into your husband's hands place it alone,
He'll open it himself.

Juno.
(melodramatically)
Is't done?

Jove.
(melodramatically)
'Tis done.

Mars.
Say, may I have the pleasure to escort?

Apollo.
No. May I, madam?

Mars.
Sir! Pooh, that's your sort!

Vulcan.
Let me.

Neptune.
No! Brother Vulcan, you're too slow.
I'll take the jolly little craft in tow.

Jove.
Now cease at once this flow of eloquence,
Mercury will conduct the maid from hence.

Mars.
Confound the puppy!

Mercury.
(crossing to Pandora
Hem!

Jove.
Well dear, good bye.

Venus.
We shall expect to see you in the sky.

Juno.
We'll call and visit you, of course, my dear.

Mars.
Don't be surprised to see me re-appear.

Apollo.
(and all the other gods)
And me, and me, &c.

Jove.
That style urbane will be his bane I see,
Here, Mercury, that box, Pandora's dowry.

Minerva.
(R.)
(to Mercury, who goes off R. with Pandora taking no notice of what Minerva says)
Take an umbrella, Merky, it looks show'ry.

Exit R. offended at Mercury's indifference
Jove.
(aside)
It holds all evils in that little space,
Doom and destruction to the human race,
Prometheus, if he opens it is lost,
And all his projects to the winds are tossed.
This beats Pandora, betterer and betterer,
Revenge, ha! ha! he! he! ho! ho! etcetera.

Chorus—“Kafoozleum.”
Jove.
Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
She'll bamboozle 'em.

Chorus
Fol de rol de rido.

Jove.
If my scheme's of any worth.
From the moment of her birth,
She will play the deuce on earth,

Chorus.
Fol de rol de rido.

Apollo.
Though old as Methusalem, &c.
She'll manage to bamboozle 'em,

Chorus.
Fol de rol de rido.

Apollo.
Be they young or be they grey,
She with them the deuce will play,
So I've only got to say,

All.
Fal de rol de rido.

(Short dance and all of, R. 1 E. leaving Mars and Venus on, who continue dance and off, R.)