 | The Castle of Otranto |  |
SCENE II.
—The Court Yard of the Castle.—In the centre, a gigantic Helmet, with an enormous bunch of Black Feathers waving above it.Tenants, in consternation, are seen trying to raise the Helmet.—Manfred rushes on frantically, followed by Guests, &c.—Odonto, L.E.
8
Why what is this? Oh, I see thro' the matter,
A trick played by some advertising hatter,
I'd lay a guinea to that helmet's crown,
That some audacious tradesman of the town
Has smuggled this affair into the yard,
As a vile trick, to bore me with his card.
Odo.
Would it were only that—Conrad, your son—
Man.
Out with it—tell me—what's he been and done?
Odo.
Sir, he's been no where, but he's done for here;
Within that monster casque you'll find his bier.
Man.
You're joking, knave! if he's beneath that hat,
His bier, by this time, must be precious flat!
I'll not believe it! no, my life upon it!
No one wou'd dare my Conrad thus to bonnet.
But stay!—has any body got a lever
To give a lift to this gigantic beaver?
[The Helmet is raised at the back; Manfred looks under it.
Alas! he speaks the truth—my son lies low,
Poor little chap, under this great chapeau.
My Conrad gone!—this is a sad disaster,
The die is cast, by this unlucky castor!
Can no one tell me how or whence it came?
Is there no ticket with the hatter's name?
If I knew grief before, this hat has capped it,—
My boy, crush'd 'neath this hated nap, has napped it!
Odo.
Nay, don't take on, my lord.
Man.
But, by-the-bye,
Whence came this helmet? dropp'd it from the sky?
I've heard of raining pitchforks, dogs, and cats,
But ne'er saw—over head—a shower of hats!
Can it be from the stars?
Odo.
My gracious master!
No doubt you're right—Pollux has dropp'd his Castor!
[Exit L.
[A noise is heard outside, and Theodore is dragged in by some Vassals, R.
Man.
What noise is that? there seems no end of fuss to-day.
The.
My lord, your vassals took me into custody
Because they knew me not.
Man.
In times of dangers,
They're very right to keep their eye on strangers.
The.
I see your meaning, but the act I'd scout,
If I'm a propagandist turn me out,
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For propaganda is a proper goose!
A simple youth—I boast not of my wits,
And yet I know the head which the cap fits.
Man.
You think yourself, no doubt, a very quick one—
The head which that cap fits, must be a thick one!
The.
It may be so, my lord—but I could swear,
The helmet fits Alphonso to a hair,
If by his statue I'm allowed to judge—
What's the opinion of your lordship?
Man.
Fudge!
(contemptuously.)
The.
Nay, of the likeness I a bet would make—
Man.
Villain! thou liest— (checking himself)
—under a mistake!
Bronze figures can't take off their hats you know,
A statue must remain in statu quo!
The.
I don't see why your lordship should go on so,
Suppose it is the helmet of Alphonso?
Man.
Suppose me no supposes—by St. Nicholas!
The notion makes me laugh—'tis so ridiculous!
SONG.—Theodore.
Air—“On yonder rock.”—Fra Diavolo.
On yonder Monster Statue
That Helmet you might once behold;
But if the truth might now be told,
Bare is his head and cold.
I see, by looking at you,
Upon my word you doubt would throw:
But whoe'er would insult me so,
I'll tell him where to go—
Tremble! each one my word denying,
I'll surely send him flying
To Old Bogie.
[Odonto runs in out of breath.
Man.
How now! what means this haste? some news, I guess,
By special engine, for the daily press?
Speak it!—for everything may now be true,
Has Hampstead fraternised with Timbuctoo?
Nothing would now surprise me—has Stoke Pogis
Arm'd, to restore the old Venetian Doges?
The.
Has the Arcade of Lowther played the fool,
And wildly hurl'd the beadle from his stool?
Is business at a stand—are all the toys
Seized, by those thorough communists, the boys?
10
Much worse than that!
Man.
You are too slow by half—
I'd have thee an electric telegraph!
Yet, no!—for tho' its news like lightning flies,
It's got a dreadful trick of telling lies!
I've been surprised—hearing it's awful whackers—
Electric fluid should descend to crackers!
Now, let me know the latest news in town;
What's up?—or, rather, I should say, what's down?
Odo.
Alphonso's monster statue.
Man.
Yes—I know!
Odo.
The one that got so quizzed some time ago—
The one they placed at such an egregious height,
Trying in vain to put it out of sight!
That statue I just happened to behold,
And there Alphonso sits, all in the cold,
Without a bit of helmet on his head!
The.
Now don't that tally in with what I said?
Man.
(fiercely enraged.)
I see it all!
The.
What's all this rage about?
Man.
(drawing his sword.)
Thou would'st draw in?
The.
But why should'st thou draw out?
Man.
You've slain my son!
The.
I slew him!—that's too good!
Pray, if I'd wished it, tell me how I could?
He's smother'd, 'neath the helmet, as you see—
You won't attempt to hang that hat on me!
Man.
The fact is clear—we must of course presume
You stole the helmet from Alphonso's tomb.
The.
False is your charge—the helmet's weight will prove it!
Pickford himself wouldn't attempt to move it!
Man.
From such defence as that, young man, forbear—
Pickford, you know, is neither here nor there:
You may possess some necromantic plan,—
In this great move, mischief has led the van!
The.
Count, you speak false!
Man.
An insult!—oh, of course—
No sorcerer can be at a loss for sauce!
Indifferent to me the words you utter,
Were you to fill mine ears with sauce or butter—
With fulsome compliment—or gross abuse—
The same effect on me it would produce.
The.
My lord, your threats I spurn!
Man.
Imposter vile!
[to his Attendants.
Quick! roof him in with that mysterious tile—
He cannot say I wish to put him down,
For see, I give him a place—under the crown!
11
DUET AND CHORUS.
Cho.
Seize him, squeeze him, with the helmet cover him;
Force him in, toss him in, hold him tight;
Smash him, dash him, with the helmet cover him;
If he lies till he dies—serve him right!
Man.
Drag him hence, the juvenile offender;
Death to him who lets the rascal go.
The.
You've a heart that's anything but tender.
But some day I'll come and let you know.
Cho.
Seize him, squeeze him, &c.
| The Castle of Otranto | |