The Second Calender ; And The Queen of Beauty, who had the Fight with the Genie an Extravaganza, in Two Acts |
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 | The Second Calender ; And The Queen of Beauty, who had the Fight with the Genie |  |
SCENE. I.
—Public Place in Curripoudah (the capitol portion of Mulligatawney), in the vicinity of the Palace. Strangers in various costumes, with luggage, carpet bags, &c., throng the stage. Men walking about with placards, such as “An excellent dust bin to let—rent 500 rupees a week;” “A commodious lamp post in the neighbourhood of the Exhibition, suitable for swinging a single or double hammock —rent moderate;” “A dog kennel for a single man— 200 rupees per week;” “Visitors to the Exhibition may be accommodated with well ventilated apartments in the Ball of the Grand Mosque,” &c., &c.CHORUS.
“Bartlemy Fair.”
What a bustle—it's too bad,
Not a lodging to be had,
Ev'ry nook and corner collar'd,
Ev'ry bait to grab at swallow'd,
Fill'd by foreigners erratic,
Leaving not a single attic;
Let alone a snug two pair, Oh!
Britons here;
Frenchmen queer;
Cousins German;
Turkish Firman;
Yankees knowing,
“Smartest going;”
Poles and Dutchmen,
Swedes and such men;
Hey down! ho down! very, very brown,
Are we done by this National Affair, Oh!
Enter Cranbourn Ali (the Rajah); Dost Ymillah, Guards, &c. &c., L.
Ali.
Hence! home, ye idle varlets, get ye home;
Is this a holiday, that thus ye roam,
Disturbing, with your vile discordant shindies,
One of the richest monarchs of the Indies?
25
Dread Sir! our homes to move, we'd not be slow to,
But the job is we can't find homes to go to.
The town's so full, with visitors beset,
There's not a single coal-hole to be let;
And cow-house keepers for their stalls with hay for 'em,
Demand so much we can't afford to pay for 'em;
Each chimney pot has guests to dine or sup in it,
And not a cab but has a bed made up in it.
A good dry pigsty up a healthy court
Fetches almost unheard of sums; in short,
A saying old, on all sides meets the ear,
“It's all very fine, Mr. Foreigner, but you don't lodge here.”
Ali.
Hence! get ye gone and seek some other quarter.
To grumble in—
[Plebeians exeunt.
My daughter, Oh! my daughter!
You've brought our city to a nice condition,
All through your Grand Industrial Exhibition.
Up in our Park, bestrewn with lime and planks,
Masons, more free than welcome, play their pranks;
And with whole droves of bricklayers thou pain'st us
Whose “hods” are most decidedly against us.
One of her whims!—whatever she thinks proper
To do is done, and so we could'nt stop her.
SONG.To grumble in—
[Plebeians exeunt.
My daughter, Oh! my daughter!
You've brought our city to a nice condition,
All through your Grand Industrial Exhibition.
Up in our Park, bestrewn with lime and planks,
Masons, more free than welcome, play their pranks;
And with whole droves of bricklayers thou pain'st us
Whose “hods” are most decidedly against us.
One of her whims!—whatever she thinks proper
To do is done, and so we could'nt stop her.
“When a man weds.”
When a man's married,
It's awkward to find
That his daughter possesses
A masculine mind;
I've got one myself,
Who's the plague of my life,
And reminds me each day
Of my poor deceased wife.
Will of her own—
Let her alone,
All very pleasant and nice, Sirs;
Thwart her at all—
Out for a squall
Look! for it comes in a trice, sirs.
Notions new,
Politics too,
Edits the Voix des Femmes, sirs.
Fond o' new lights,
Woman's rights,
Looks upon man as a sham, sirs.
Spouting, flouting, scribbling, fribbling,
Speeching, screeching, lecturing, hectoring,
When a man's, &c &c.
When a man's married,
It's awkward to find
That his daughter possesses
A masculine mind;
I've got one myself,
Who's the plague of my life,
And reminds me each day
Of my poor deceased wife.
Will of her own—
Let her alone,
All very pleasant and nice, Sirs;
Thwart her at all—
Out for a squall
Look! for it comes in a trice, sirs.
Notions new,
Politics too,
Edits the Voix des Femmes, sirs.
Fond o' new lights,
Woman's rights,
Looks upon man as a sham, sirs.
Spouting, flouting, scribbling, fribbling,
Speeching, screeching, lecturing, hectoring,
When a man's, &c &c.
26
And then she's got ideas above her station,
Through having had a fairy education—
Her ma—to send her to—nought less would stand,—
Than a crack boarding-school in Fairy-land;
Where she learnt all the extras—magic—witchcraft—
Clairvoyance—mesmerism—spells—and sich craft;
The tricks she's up to really are alarming,
Yet—hang it all—the jade! she's always charming.
Good as she's elever—though she sometimes worries us,
And faster than our usual slow pace hurries us;
And but for good exerts her magic wiles,
By far less dang'rous than her magic smiles,
Which do much harm.
Through having had a fairy education—
Her ma—to send her to—nought less would stand,—
Than a crack boarding-school in Fairy-land;
Where she learnt all the extras—magic—witchcraft—
Clairvoyance—mesmerism—spells—and sich craft;
The tricks she's up to really are alarming,
Yet—hang it all—the jade! she's always charming.
Good as she's elever—though she sometimes worries us,
And faster than our usual slow pace hurries us;
And but for good exerts her magic wiles,
By far less dang'rous than her magic smiles,
Which do much harm.
Voices.
(Outside.)
Bal—loon!
[Plebeians all enter L.
Ali.
What means that row?
Dost.
Sire! the Queen of Beauty's coming!
Ali.
How?
Dost.
In her new locomotive steam balloon.
Ali.
And you stand gaping there—slaves, change your tune!
Are'nt you informed our conquering daughter comes?
Sound—sound your trumpets, beat your Indian drums.
CHORUS.
“Fly not yet.”
Raise your voices, one and all—
“Long live the Queen of Beauty” bawl;
All hail! and such like phrases sing;
Huzzah! and all that sort of thing!
Bal—loon!
[They follow the balloon off, R.
[Balloon crosses in the distance L. to R., with the paddles working. The Queen of Beauty in the car, with two Fairies, one of whom is steering.
Queen of B.
(Outside.)
Half turn astern! Ease her! now, hard-a-port!
Stop her! move her ahead! There that's your sort!
[Enter with Fairies, R.
Now, take it home—be careful how you go.
Fairy.
Feed it?
Queen.
Yes; half a sack of coke, or so,
Give it some water, and rub down the car.
Be off!
[Exeunt Fairies, R.
And, now to business. Hah! papa!
Kiss! I can't stop.
Ali.
(Looking at her admiringly.)
Where have you been so early?
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Not far; to Fairy-land—so don't be surly.
Ali.
To Fairy-land!—you are a one to go.
What for?
Queen.
A thousand things!
Ali.
But let me know.
Queen.
Why, first to pass!
Ali.
Pass! What?
Queen.
The Magic College,
The fairy hall of necromantic knowledge.
All right!
Ali.
I'm glad to hear it. What though? Tell me.
Queen.
Got through triumphantly! they tried to sell m---
Ali.
Who?
Queen.
The Examiners.
Ali.
But say, what's selling?
Queen.
Oh! tried to dodge me in my magic spelling;
Knew ev'ry meaning! Then they tried annoyance,
Thinking I wasn't up in my clairvoyance;
Saw through it, ev'ry bit—that wouldn't do:
Then ask'd me if the bottle trick I knew—
Did it before their eyes—quick! presto! Pass!
Here's my diploma—Sprite of the First Class!
[Shows diploma.
Ali.
Wonderful girl! Then now, of course, the fact is
That you're a Fairy!
Queen.
Yes; and mean to practise.
DUETT.
“Valse D'Amour.”
Queen.
Yes, the great fairy guns, now I'm equal to—
Ali.
Don't say so!
Queen.
If you doubt it, my powers I'll test on you.
Ali.
Oh, dear no!
Queen.
Just let me. I'm sure you won't care, papa,
For fun—it would so make them stare, papa.
Transform you—say, into a bear, papa,
Or something my powers to try—
Ali.
(Spoken—terrified.)
Certainly not.
Queen.
A wolf, or an ass, just to show—
It won't hurt, for a minute or so.
Ali.
(Spoken.)
Take her away!
Queen.
Well, never mind;
But I must say, you're very unkind!
Just a moment, I so want to try.
Ali.
(Spoken.)
Couldn't think of it.
Queen.
A racoon, or a nice Russian bear;
Or a hog, with a fine head of hair!
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(Spoken.)
Be quiet!
Queen.
Well, never mind, &c.
Queen.
Well, I must go.
[Crosses to L.
Ali.
But why this expedition?
Stay! tell me how gets on your Exhibition?
Queen.
Why, I can't say as fast as I could wish it—
An enemy does all he can to dish it,
A Genie, Jarjarhees by name; who knows
That, by its magic influence, I propose
To crush some pow'rs he likes, but I abhor—
Ill feeling, discord, prejudice, and war;
And in their stead establish, 'twixt each nation,
A peaceful kind of friendly emulation;
The wretch does all he can my views to thwart,
Brews storms to wreck my ships that come in port;
Tears down my posters, and with fiendish malice
Does all he can to smash my Crystal Palace!
Ali.
But sure your arts might break the rascal's bones!
Queen.
(Significantly.)
Folks in glass houses oughtn't to throw stones.
Yet, spite of him and all such critic cavillers,
Our work gets on, astonishing the travellers—
Who own, as rising to the clouds they view it,
Magic, and magic pow'r alone, could do it.
GRAND MEDLEY OF ALL NATIONS.
“The Ties of Friendship.”
The joists are up, the girders raised, and we
Will shortly be prepared our friends to see;
“Ching-a-ring-a-ring-ching.”
Will shortly be prepared our friends to see;
Ching-a-ring-a-ring-ching-ching-ching-cha,
Chinamen arrive from Pekin far;
Ting-a-ring-a-ring-ting! there you are—
Show your China mugs, nor fear a jar!
“Paddy o'Flanagan.”
Chinamen arrive from Pekin far;
Ting-a-ring-a-ring-ting! there you are—
Show your China mugs, nor fear a jar!
Och! welcome to Paddy from Cork,
With his national industry's sample;
Though to speak of brave Paddy and “work,”
In a breath, seems to bulls an example.
But, put him once in the right way,
And, for good, he'll be active and frisky;
He'll prove the first “Gim of the say”
Can produce something stronger than whiskey!
Och! Paddy's a man again!
Long badly-used Paddy.
Och! och! och!
Pat is a darling boy!
With his national industry's sample;
Though to speak of brave Paddy and “work,”
In a breath, seems to bulls an example.
But, put him once in the right way,
And, for good, he'll be active and frisky;
He'll prove the first “Gim of the say”
Can produce something stronger than whiskey!
Och! Paddy's a man again!
Long badly-used Paddy.
Och! och! och!
Pat is a darling boy!
29
Portrait charmant—portrait de mon amie
France! no more with stains of blood bedew'd.
Ah! viens m'offrir—your hand in friendship glued,
Nor save in arts of peace a rival be—
Je vois encore votre rappelle à la vie!
“German Air.”
France! no more with stains of blood bedew'd.
Ah! viens m'offrir—your hand in friendship glued,
Nor save in arts of peace a rival be—
Je vois encore votre rappelle à la vie!
Leipsig, Brunschwig, Schleswig, Jarmany—
Join your thousand tribes in harmony.
Drop your noise,
And like good boys,
Just try who can make the best German toys!
Sing, falla-tre! falla-tre, &c.
Let Discord's fume
For Peace make room—
Sweep troubles away with a German broom.
“There are sax eggs in the pon', gude mon.”
Join your thousand tribes in harmony.
Drop your noise,
And like good boys,
Just try who can make the best German toys!
Sing, falla-tre! falla-tre, &c.
Let Discord's fume
For Peace make room—
Sweep troubles away with a German broom.
Hey! travel the seas beyond, gude mon!
Since of leaving your hame ye're sae fon';
We've room a deal
For the Lowland chiel,
And room for the bra' John Hielandmon!
“Yankee Doodle.”
Since of leaving your hame ye're sae fon';
We've room a deal
For the Lowland chiel,
And room for the bra' John Hielandmon!
Yankee Doodle, come to town,
Swell our demonstration;
Smartest nation airth can boast,
That whips the whole creation.
But a coloured part of it,
P'raps you whip too often:
Not a bit less smart you'd seem,
If their smarts you'd but soften.
“Il segreto.”
Swell our demonstration;
Smartest nation airth can boast,
That whips the whole creation.
But a coloured part of it,
P'raps you whip too often:
Not a bit less smart you'd seem,
If their smarts you'd but soften.
Il segreto per esser felice.
Brave Italian! come here and we'll teach ye—
With some efforts industrial content ye—
And an end to your dolce far niente.
“Home, sweet Home.”
Brave Italian! come here and we'll teach ye—
With some efforts industrial content ye—
And an end to your dolce far niente.
But whoe'er crowd our palace's transept and dome—
We'll forget not that one spot to all Lands a Home.
“Rule Britannia.”
We'll forget not that one spot to all Lands a Home.
Rule Britannia! may Britain rule the waves,
In peace as when war's tempest raves.
In peace as when war's tempest raves.
30
But here I'm wasting time.
[Going.
Ali.
Where goes my pretty?
Queen.
Where? why to take the chair—I'm on committee.
[Exit L.
Ali.
Who wouldn't be a father!
[A cry heard.
Hah! who roar'd?
Dost.
It is the cry of women, good my lord.
Enter Ameer Stikh.
Ame.
My lord, the Vizier's dead.
Ali
(dropping a sceptre, à la Macbeth.)
Eh! dead? absurd—
There would have been a time for such a word:
But now to die, when so much work he'd got to
Finish particularly!—Tell him not to.
Att.
Sire, he won't hear of it.
Ali.
With rage we burst!
Treason has been and gone and done its worst.
Here! we must have a Vizier—go and catch one!
Buy one! send out!—Stay, take a cab and fetch one.
Dost.
I fear, sire, not a tradesman in the land
Keeps an assortment, ready made, on hand.
Ali.
Then order one!—Stay: very likely, though, 'tis
Hard to knock up one on so short a notice.
Hold!—of a great idea we're on the brink—
Yes! bring a table, paper, pens and ink,
And place them there.
Dost.
Would our great king be arter
Writing petitions for the People's Charter?
Ali.
Peace!
[A table is brought, L., furnished as he requested.
There's a science that we much delight in,
Which tells folks' characters by their handwriting;
We'll try it. Call our faithful subjects here:
A show of hands shall choose us a vizier.
One we must have, if only an apology—
And what so good a test as Graphiology?
Dost.
Oh, yes! oh, yes! step forward please, draw near!
Those who want places—Wanted, a Vizier!
All applications to be made by letter,
And those who don't do so at once had better.
[Plebeians flock in during his speech.
Ali.
Go on—all write!
[Pointing to table.
[A Plebeian writes. Ali inspects his production.
Why, this is past belief:
This man's a swindler!—nay, a very thief!
Pleb.
Sire!
Ali.
Slave! thou hast not cross'd a single T.
All I can say is—let him not cross me!
[The Plebeian runs out frightened. Another writes. Ali inspects as before.
31
And there's a queer expression in his i's!
[The second writer disappears like the first. Another writes.
Ah! your orthography stands in your way—
We don't spell Cranbourn Ali with a K.
[Business repeated. Another writes.
A composition in the Ragged school
Who writes so crookedly can never rule.
[Another writes.
There, that'll do—on them we've wasted time enough:
There's not one for a minister that's prime enough!
With all that public press of men of mark,
To think the crown should want an organ. Hark!
[An organ is heard outside playing “Jeannette and Jeannot” very dolefully. Cranbourn Ali expresses excruciating agony at the sound.
Dost.
There's one, sire, with a boy in leather gaiters!
[Tune increases in violence.
Ali.
(Holding his ears and writhing in agony.)
Not that sort! worst of all peace devastators!
[Tune very loud indeed.
We cannot bear it!—Ease him! back him! stop him!
Drag him before us! seize him! whack him! whop him!
[Guards rush out, and are heard struggling with Codja and Zubeydeh.
Zub.
(Outside.)
You let us go!
Guard.
(Ditto.)
Bring in the baggage!
Codja.
(Ditto)
Ah, no!
[Guards rush in dragging in Codja, Zubeydeh, and the Ape. Codja is dressed in a broad-brimmed felt hat and goiters as an Italian boy, and carries a barrel-organ. Zubeydeh with a silk handkerchief on her head like a Savoyard girl. She carries a tambourine. She clings to Codja with one hand and with the other holds a chain, to which the Ape is attached, dressed in a red jacket and cap and feather, after the fashion of monkeys connected with promenade concerts.
Codja.
(Falling on his knees to Ali.)
Pieta, Signori—povero 'Taliano!
Ali.
Pooh! that tune won't do here—
32
(Aside.)
It won't? The deuce!
We thought to find it of the greatest use
When we embraced the musical profession.
(Aside to Zub)
Dodge Number One don't answer—try a fresh 'un.
Zub.
(To Ali.)
Oh! spare a wand'ring artist and his wife
Just married, struggling to get on in life,
To scrape enough to buy some white mice creeping,
And a few guinea-pigs towards housekeeping.
Codja.
Do!
Ali.
Caitiff, hast thou not the world annoy'd,
The peace of thousand families destroy'd?
Hast not their comfort at defiance set,
Taunting them with “We may be happy yet?”
Scared happiness from many lowly walls,
With dreams of having dwelt in Marble Halls?
Zub.
But still to make amends we're always willing,
Let us move on—we will—
Codja.
Under a shilling!
Ali.
Whence came ye?
Zub.
It's a long and painful story,
Ali.
Tell it, and we may pardon—
Codja.
Si signori!
[Zubeydeh takes her tambourine and sings to its accompaniment. Codja plays the organ. The Ape moves slowly round to the tune.
SONG. Zubeydeh.
“Jenny Jones.”
Our name's on the organ, we live by its melodies,
In the daily pursuit of our lodging and meals;
Thrown on the wide world and compell'd to provide for
An only baboon with the saddest of tales.
And indeed of all creatures devoted and dutiful,
That little monkey we prize far above;
For indeed in our hearts, that small ring tailed monstrosity,
Convinced of his “valley,” in truth we do love.
[Codja plays symphony. The Monkey begs of
Cranbourn Ali with his cap in his mouth.
In the daily pursuit of our lodging and meals;
Thrown on the wide world and compell'd to provide for
An only baboon with the saddest of tales.
And indeed of all creatures devoted and dutiful,
That little monkey we prize far above;
For indeed in our hearts, that small ring tailed monstrosity,
Convinced of his “valley,” in truth we do love.
He started in life with the brightest of prospects,
Till things took a turn, and he met a reverse;
And now he's cut down to mere monkey's allowance—
Reduced by a change than all robbery worse.
And to save him from kicks, and supply him with halfpence,
Through city and valley and mountain we rove:
And indeed all our arts it requires to provide him
With sweet ginger cakes and the nuts which he loves.
Till things took a turn, and he met a reverse;
And now he's cut down to mere monkey's allowance—
Reduced by a change than all robbery worse.
And to save him from kicks, and supply him with halfpence,
Through city and valley and mountain we rove:
And indeed all our arts it requires to provide him
With sweet ginger cakes and the nuts which he loves.
[The Ape kneels to Cranbourn Ali, kissing his robe.
33
Wonder! we scarce can credit what we see.
Rise, loyal monkey!
Codja.
Why, the fact is, he
Has travelled much—has often been at court—
A monkey who has seen the world, in short.
[The king weeps.
Dost.
Our monarch weeps!
Ali.
Excuse this furtive tear—
He so reminds us of our lost vizier.
Such was his attitude ere grim death dish'd him—
So would he dance to any tune we wish'd him;
Thus, hat in hand, he went, by no means proud,
For us extracting coppers from the crowd.
He was a man! his like we seek in vain—
We ne'er shall look upon sich like again!
Codja.
Hopeless?
Ali.
Completely! Numbers have applied,
Whose powers by their caligraphy we've tried
On yonder desk; but none of them could trace
Characters good enough for such a place.
[The Ape tries to break away from Zubeydeh, and run towards writing-table.
Zub.
Jacko! come here! (Ape breaks away from her.)
He's off like any rocket.
Codja.
He smells some gingerbread in some one's pocket.
Zub.
Oh, dear! he'll get us into dreadful scrapes!
Warning to all young women—don't lead apes!
[The Ape tries to get at the table; Guards keep him off. He comes forward, and explains by signs that he wishes to write.
Ali.
Explain what all that antic frisk and hop is.
Codja.
My liege, I think, he's setting round-hand copies.
Ali.
He wants to write! Give way, there, guards and flunkies!
Zub.
He'll spill the ink.
Codja.
Stuff!
Zub.
Monkeys will be monkeys!
[The Ape makes absurd preparations for writing: looks at nib of pen, &c., and commences writing.
Ali.
To credit this we all our faith must summon.
Codja.
Talk about comic writers!—there's a rum un!
[The Ape pauses, and scratches his head.
Ali.
Why does he pause with knit and thoughtful brow?
34
He's waiting for a rhyme—
[The Ape having finished his operations, re-commences writing.
He's got it now!
[Ali, Zubeydeh, Codja, and Dost look over in breathless interest.
Ali.
He dots his I's—
Dost.
And minds his P's and Q's—
Ali.
Great A's—
Zub.
Superior T's—
Codja.
Capital U's!
[Ape gives paper to Ali, and the attendant removes table, &c.
CONCERTED.
“Cease your sunning.”
Ali
(looking at the Ape's writing.)
Cease your punning!
This is stunning!
Not gold pens and best japan,
With the blessings
Of “six lessings,”
Could surpass it! He's our man!
Zub.
'Tis most certing,
Scribes diverting
Of the monkey tribe are known;
Mouthing, jibbing;
Always cribbing
Goods from others, not their own.
Ali
(reads).
“Agib is my proper name,
Distant is my nation:
This comes hoping I may suit
The Vizier's situation.”
Suit! such a brilliant hand we really never!—
Proclaim as our vizier this monkey clever!
Codja.
Stop! as his friends, his interests we must see to:
We wish to know what terms you would agree to.
Ali.
Say twenty pounds a week—of cake—for salary—
Zub.
And in the house the free run of the gallery?
Ali.
Granted.
Zub.
Of chesnuts once a month a full sack?
Codja.
Snug quarters?
Ali.
We'll promote him to the woolsack,
And of the Woods and Forests make him free.
35
Once there, he'll soon get to the top o'th'tree.
Zub.
At least six cats in waiting he'll require,
With paws to take his chesnuts from the fire.
Ali.
They of our civil list shall swell the book.
Zub.
Pull down the bill—the Vizier's place is took.
Ali.
Bring forth the robes of office!
Codja
(detaining him).
Stop! don't go, man.
Ali.
Anything else?
Codja.
A trifle for the showman.
[Touching his hat.
Ali.
True—you shall serve him with his currant-buns,
As Master of the Rolls, and Sally Lunns!
(To Zub.)
And you, as Mistress of the Robes shall care,
To keep his monkey-jackets in repair.
Now, sound! et cetera, and throughout the nation
Chair him, and of our choice make proclamation.
[All shout.
[Attendants bring in a robe of office, in which they clothe the Ape, who is hoisted upon the shoulders of Guards. The characters form a procession, Zubeydeh and Codja taking the lead.
CHORUS.
“Sturm March Galop.”
Zub.
(Dancing before the procession with tambourine.)
Jacko's now in clover. Cymbals bang,
Chorus.
Hurrah!
Zub.
Thump the drums, and let the trumpets clang!
Chorus.
Hurrah!
Jacks in office are these—yes, a gang,
Chorus.
Hurrah!
Greater brutes than our orang-outang!
Chorus.
Hurrah!
Monkey tricks we often see,
In the best society;
Why then heed his monkey shape,
He'll his better's manners ape!
Thump then the drums, and cymbals clang,
Sound the martial trumpets, let the cannon bang,
Shout long life to our orang-outang!
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
Jacko's now in clover, &c.
[Exeunt, U. E. L.
| The Second Calender ; And The Queen of Beauty, who had the Fight with the Genie | |