Sylvia or, The May Queen. A Lyrical Drama. By George Darley |
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Scene III.
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 | Sylvia |  |
Scene III.
Of Queen Morgana's sunny grounds.
Under a spreading maple-tree
Sits a rude Swain, as rude may be,
With canes, and marsh-flags on his knee;
Seven hollow pipes his artless hands
Strive to conjoin with rushy bands;
And with a grave, yet smirking air,
He trolls satyric ditties there,
And almost all he was before.
I have grown wondrous 'rithmetical of late, being, indeed, most lamentably given to poesy and numbers. But chiefly of all I affect the pastoral, the fal-lal, or as it may be very opprobriously described,—the lambkin style of farcification. Let me see: what can I do in this way?
To sit in sunny shade,
And hear the frisky turtle-doves
Skip o'er the 'namelled glade.
The amorous sheep go coo-oo!
The birds go baa-aa too!
And I upon my crook do play
While o'er the fields I take my—steps!
When hairy Morn—Pize on't!—
Where meadows full of fishes be,
And streams with daisies dight,
My dappled goats do pipe to me
From Night to hairy Morn.
The fragrant goats sing faa-laa,
The Shepherd he goes maa-aa!
And then he drives his flock astray.
Momiel.
Didst thou not mark them winding down the glen,
Flaunting their quickset crowns?
Grumiel.
Ay, what of that?
Momiel.
What of it? humph!—this fellow hunts as keen
As a blind grayhound: cannot scent his prey
Though rubb'd to's nose.
Grumiel.
What's to be made of clowns
And country-queans?
Momiel.
Ingenious Mischief turns
The clumsiest tools into brave instruments
When work is to be done. Leave all to me:
I'll save thy back a drubbing.—Ho! thou knave!
Andrea.
The same to you, sir; and may you long deserve the title!
Momiel.
Put on this ivy skirt, this gown of leaves
To hide thy shaggy limbs: and here!—this too—
May not perk out.
Andrea.
It fits me like a beehive, or an old hat on a broomstick, to fright crows in a cornfield. What a farthingale too!—Now if I were only simple enough, I might pass for a wild Indianness, and exhibit myself as a pattern of unsophisticated nature.
Momiel.
Listen to me, dull beast!—Thou hast but smell'd
The oblivious liquor, yet art drunk as though
Thou hadst been soak'd in it. Hear what I say,
And what thou hast to do. If thou forget'st it,
I'll bend four pines to earth, whose strong recoil
Shall fling thee piecemeal o'er their whistling backs
To where the great winds rise!
Andrea.
Sir, I will not regret a tittle of it, if it were even as long and tedious as a curtain-lecture to a tired courier.
Momiel.
Thou wert best not. Come hither to this knoll;
See'st thou yon troop of villagers?
Andrea.
I do.
Momiel.
They're seeking a May-Queen: dost hear?
Andrea.
Why ay,
Catching May-flies, you say.
A May-Queen, fool!
[Strikes him.
Grumiel.
Good! rap it into his skull!
Momiel.
What was't I said?
Andrea.
Eh?—Oh!—Ay! catching a May-Queen.
Momiel.
So!—well!—
Thou hast no more to do, but take this wreath
And cast it in their path. Dost hear me, idiot?
Andrea.
With my two eyes.
Momiel.
Begone then, to thy service!
Look thou perform it, or I'll strangle thee!
[Exeunt Grumiel and Momiel.
Andrea.
Fear not; I will do it most ingenuously.
The Scene changes to another part of the glen.
Enter the Peasants.
Roselle.
This will-o'the-wisp of a musician has stopt in time; I am weary almost to fainting. Proceed, neighbours; I must sit down a moment on this bank.
Stephania.
Nay, I will bear you company. Go on, friends; we 'll follow you towards the cottage, when my sister is able to walk.
Peasants.
Very well. Trudge on, Geronymo. You are the head gander in this wildgoose exhibition.
[Exeunt Peasants.
Enter the Peasants.
Geronymo.
Where are we now, can any body tell?
2d Peasant.
In a maze, that's certain.
Geronymo.
Thank ye, for the discovery: What a treasure thou would'st be to a map-maker!
3d Peasant.
We are all astray, like the Babes in the Wood, and therefore I see nothing better we can do but innocently sit down upon the ground, and kiss one-another.
Geronymo.
Stay; who's there?—Hollo! neighbour in the green petticoat; a word with ye!
Enter Andrea.
1st Girl.
Lawk! such a fright!
2d Girl.
Prithee, good woman! from what pedler do you buy your millinery?
Geronymo.
I remember seeing such another face upon a city-fountain, with a cap of reeds like a floating island.
1st Peasant.
Haw! haw! haw! haw!—'A looks as if'a was carrying off a bed of turnips!—haw! haw! haw! haw!
3d Peasant.
Excellent!—Or crying jonquils by the hundred!
Who are you?—Whence come you? —What's your business?
Andrea.
'Tis more easily told than yours to ask it. But no matter: Stand round, and I will unlighten you with a clear exploration.
5th Peasant.
I'll warrant you she's a basket-maker, by these rushes.
All.
Well?—What is't?—Speak!—Now!— Begin!—Out with't!
Andrea.
Why then, if you will know, the long and the short of the matter is this, videlicet: I am come to elect myself unanimously your May-Queen!
All.
A May-Queen! ha! ha! ha!—You a May-Queen!—O good!—O the monster!—
Andrea.
Monster!—do ye select me for a
monster?—Perchance there are others in the company
who have as good a right to the honour, if there
were a fair show of horns for it. But here! ye
ungrateful plebeians! take this halter—
[throwing
down the wreath]
and hang yourselves in it, verbatim
et literatim every one of ye! I have done with such
vagabonds!
5th Peasant.
I knew she was a weaver of some sort or other, by her pestilent tongue.
1st Girl.
Lawk! what is this?
[Taking up the wreath.
2d Girl.
O beautiful!
Let me see it!
4th Girl.
We'll all see it!—let it go round!
5th Girl.
What a precious—Lo! here is a scroll, too, stuck in the middle!—Where is Jacintha?— She is a scholar—Let her read the intents of it. She can say her a, b, ab, as quick as nobody.
Jacintha.
[Reads]
One brow, and one alone, will bind:
Her whom it suits let all obey,
And choose her as their Queen of May.
1st Girl.
Lawk! I'm sure it will just fit me: it is just my size—
[Puts on the wreath, which enlarges and falls about her to the ground.
Andrea.
By Saint Bridget, then, you must be just the cut of a landlady!
2d Girl.
Let me try it!
[It contracts to a single tuft on her head.
Andrea.
She wears it as a hen sparrow does her topping. It will come to me after all!
The Girls all try it, but without success.
All.
Nay, we must look farther. Where is Stephania? Where is Roselle?—Here they come! Show it! give it them!
4th Girl.
Whoever this fits is to be May-Queen. 'Tis a fairy garland. Read here!
Stephania.
[Trying it.]
Pooh! it has slipt off me—
Andrea.
Like a cat down a cottage-eave!
Roselle.
Then it must be mine!—Come! I'll
be chaired!—
[Trying it on.]
Plague on't! 'tis
bewitched! I'll none of it!
Andrea.
Well said, Mistress Magnanimity!
Stephania.
Where did ye get it?
Roselle.
How did ye come by it?
Geronymo.
Why, let me speak—here 'tis: From this smooth cheeked damsel before ye; this Watergoddess!
Stephania.
As sure as sure, I see our friend Andrea in disguise! hid beneath these flags and rushes, like Love amongst the Roses! 'Tis he! What say you, Roselle?
Roselle.
I would almost swear to that leering eye of his, with the crow's-foot stepping into it! But he has grown as barbarous as an ape since we last saw him. It is! it is the self-same gentleman! Does he come in this habit to frighten us? Hang him, scare-crow!
An imposthume! An imposthume! He is an imposthume, neighbours!
All.
Ho! a wolf in sheep's clothing!—Tear off his rushy cap there! Off with it!
[They pull off his cap.
Stephania and Roselle.
Ah!—Save us! deliver us!
Andrea.
What is the matter with the gypsies? —Do they take me for the ghost of some young man whom they have seduced to commit homicide?
Roselle.
O now indeed unhappy Signior Pimplenose!
Stephania.
Miserable Ribobolo!—Mercy upon us! what a pair of ears he has got!
Andrea.
Why what fault have you with my ears, little Mistress Red-Riding-Hood?—Am I going to swallow you?
Stephania.
What new mishap has overtaken you?—Have you been in the pillory since we saw you, that your ears are stretched to such a size? Have you been hectoring in a tap-room, and been pulled out by the ears, that they are lengthened so prodigiously?
Andrea.
Prodigiously!—Why what would you have of them?—I'm sure they are better than those half crown-pieces of yours with holes punched i' the middle! You have no more ears than a fish!
Stephania.
Horrible! horrible!
Roselle.
Ave Maria! santa purissima!
Geronymo.
Et secula seculorum!—O for a priest to conjure him!
Andrea.
Well, come, this is good now! as if they never saw horns before!
Stephania.
Never on you! never on you! D' ye think I'd keep company with a rhinoceros?
Roselle.
Some wicked fairy has charmed him into this shape! he is enchanted!
Andrea.
Charming and enchanting!—Why ay, they always said these ornaments became me.
Roselle.
O dreadful!—had you these budders when we knew you at the mill?
Andrea.
These?—Bless you, I should take cold without them!—I never was without horns in my life! I was born with them, like a young snail.
Roselle.
Nay, 'tis false! you had them not!— We should have seen them!
Andrea.
O effrontery! what will the world come to at last?—They will begin to persuade me just now that I never wore hooves either; but that these feet are no better than theirs, letter L's turned under them—
[Showing his feet.
Peasants.
The devil! the devil in a bottle-green petticoat!—Fly, neighbours! run for it, countrymen!—Off! off!—Let us break our necks rather than be eaten alive by this goat-footed heretic!
[They run away.
Andrea.
As I'm a person, I never saw such illbred people in my life!—They were never at court, as I was, that's plain as the face upon my nose!— Let them die in their simplicity, ignorants!—I wash their hands of me for ever!
[Exit.
| Sylvia | |