Alfred the Great ; or, The Minstrel King An Historical Extravaganza |
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Scene Fourth.
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 | Alfred the Great ; or, The Minstrel King |  |
Scene Fourth.
—Ante Room in the Palace at Athelney. Knocks heard as of guests arriving.Enter Edric, L. 1 E., dressed for the evening, putting on his gloves.
Edric.
'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When cabs draw up and early guests alight.
I've hurried somewhat from the regions upper
To choose a place near the best fowls at supper;
And in a gen'ral way, as best I can,
Take mean advantage of my fellow-man.
Song.—I'm off to Charlestown.”
When cabs draw up and early guests alight.
I've hurried somewhat from the regions upper
To choose a place near the best fowls at supper;
And in a gen'ral way, as best I can,
Take mean advantage of my fellow-man.
My last remains of conscience I've rudely torn away,
And gone into the villain line, commencing from to-day.
(drawing dagger)
I mean to stick at nothing that's injurious to my kind,
Nor to stick at anybody—saving safely from behind.
I've turned a scoundrel,
Law and morals scorning;
I've turned a scoundrel, in quite a wholesale way;
Give my respects to all the ugly customers,
I've turned a scoundrel, and open shop to-day.
And gone into the villain line, commencing from to-day.
(drawing dagger)
I mean to stick at nothing that's injurious to my kind,
Nor to stick at anybody—saving safely from behind.
I've turned a scoundrel,
Law and morals scorning;
I've turned a scoundrel, in quite a wholesale way;
Give my respects to all the ugly customers,
I've turned a scoundrel, and open shop to-day.
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Elswith.
(C.)
Please let me take your hat, sir.
(Ceolwulf gives her his damaged helmet—Edric takes it from her, and inspects it carefully)
Ceol.
(L.)
By your leave.
It's met an accident.
Edric.
(R.)
Yes, I perceive.
(aside—comparing it with his own)
My own's worth two of it!
(returns it to Elswith
Elswith.
(aside)
He doesn't know me!
Edric.
(to Ceolwulf)
Pitched off your horse, sir?
Ceol.
Where's the horse could throw me?
No! an encounter with some vulgar dogs,
Whom I sent skipping like so many frogs.
Footpads, I fancy; they the woods infest—
I killed about a score—and spared the rest.
I shouldn't mind, but it's disturbed one's toilet.
Elswith.
(aside)
Come—when a fib's well told, 'twere shame to spoil it.
Trio—Ceolwulf, Elswith and Edric—Air, “Turn on, old Time.”
Ceol.
Elswith.
Ensemble.
Elswith.
Ceol.
Edric.
At end of trio Elswith conducts Ceolwulf out, R., Edric following draws a dagger, and attempts to stab Ceolwulf in a melo-dramatic style; Ceolwulf turns round and eyes him through glass, Edric bows—they exeunt, R.
Ceol.
I've come in time, in our class
(twice)
And rank of life a fault outré.
(twice)
I should have waited for the mass
(twice)
Of vulgar guests for my entreé.
(twice)
(twice)
And rank of life a fault outré.
(twice)
I should have waited for the mass
(twice)
Of vulgar guests for my entreé.
(twice)
Elswith.
He's come in time to tell a mass
(twice)
Of dreadful fibs, in style outré,
(twice)
Yet let his idle stories pass,
(twice)
Nor grudge per line their worth to pay.
(twice)
(twice)
Of dreadful fibs, in style outré,
(twice)
Yet let his idle stories pass,
(twice)
Nor grudge per line their worth to pay.
(twice)
Ensemble.
Elswith.
Like his, oh! there are many tricks,
Which all reporters glibly know,
To make the simplest street-rows pass
For battles grand as Alma's day.
Like his, oh! there are many tricks,
Which all reporters glibly know,
To make the merest garden sticks
Enormous cabbages to grow.
Yes, cabbages to grow.
Yes, cabbages to grow.
Cabbages grow.
Cabbages grow!
Which all reporters glibly know,
To make the simplest street-rows pass
For battles grand as Alma's day.
Like his, oh! there are many tricks,
Which all reporters glibly know,
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Enormous cabbages to grow.
Yes, cabbages to grow.
Yes, cabbages to grow.
Cabbages grow.
Cabbages grow!
Ceol.
Of what avail, one's studied tricks
And graceful bows, if one must go
Into a ball room like an ass,
With no one there to cause dismay,
Except the usual early sticks
Of punctual wall-flowers in a row—
Except the usual early sticks
Of punctual wall-flowers in a row.
Of wall-flowers in a row.
Of wall-flowers in a row.
Row!
And graceful bows, if one must go
Into a ball room like an ass,
With no one there to cause dismay,
Except the usual early sticks
Of punctual wall-flowers in a row—
Except the usual early sticks
Of punctual wall-flowers in a row.
Of wall-flowers in a row.
Of wall-flowers in a row.
Row!
Edric.
Despite his style he seems an ass,
Talk glibly as he may,
This chance I do not mean to pass,
Of making his acquaintance pay.
At whist there are full many tricks,
And dice, if well the die we throw;
While cribbage pegs are single sticks,
With which to lay a greenhorn low.
To lay a greenhorn low.
To lay a greenhorn low.
A greenhorn low.
A greenhorn low.
Talk glibly as he may,
This chance I do not mean to pass,
Of making his acquaintance pay.
At whist there are full many tricks,
And dice, if well the die we throw;
While cribbage pegs are single sticks,
With which to lay a greenhorn low.
To lay a greenhorn low.
To lay a greenhorn low.
A greenhorn low.
A greenhorn low.
Enter Guthrum, L., looking very ill, supported by Ina and Oswith—knocking, L.
Ina.
(R.)
And you consent?
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(C.)
Yes, but we're far from well.
(knock)
Not quite so loud! (bell)
Silence that dreadful bell!
Oswith.
(L.)
For this I am your servant evermore.
(knock)
Guth.
(R.)
Then please to stop that knocking at the door.
Its unendurable—our head will split.
Oswith.
(going, L.)
It shall be silenced—
Guth.
Stay! the room don't quit!
Blest with your love, my chosen son and daughter—
(Edric who has re-entered, R., with Ceolwulf, unobserved, starts on hearing this)
With time's assistance and some Seltzer water,
We may be happy yet!
Edric.
(R.)
If all the same,
Would you just bear in mind my little claim?
Guth.
(C.)
My honest miscreant—my faithful traitor!
Who on our gratitude a claim has greater
What would you like? Our heart and purse command!
Edric.
You're very kind! I'll take that lady's hand—
Oswith.
(L.)
Hands off! 'Tis mine!
Guth.
He speaks the truth.
Edric.
Indeed!
I trust you'll know your own handwriting. Read!
(gives paper)
Guth.
These are our royal pothooks! Yet—pooh! pooh!
We promise our beloved child to you?
Edric.
Of the agreement there's the written trophy, sir.
Guth.
(suddenly remembering, in deep anguish)
Oh! that a man should put a sheriff's officer
Into his mouth to seize upon his brains.
My child, 'tis true, when rack'd by fev'rish pains
We gave that fatal promise yestermorn;
Blame not thy parent—'twas the Hirlas Horn.
Ina.
(L. C.)
I wed no man, save gentle Oswith he!
Oswith.
(L.)
All disputants of that, refer to me.
Guth.
(C.)
This is most awkward; Odin has my oath!
Ina.
And Oswith mine!—
Guth.
Just so; we can't keep both.
(to Edric)
How would you like a consul's situation?
Edric.
A very inefficient consul-ation.
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What's to be done? One can't break heads or hearts.
Who shall decide?
Enter Alfred, L., announcing himself.
Alfred.
The baker with the tarts!
(he carries a tray on his head, a muffin basket on his arm, a bell in his hand, a banjo slung at his back—he walks very majestically—Oswith recognizes him, takes tray and hands it to Servant, R.)
Guth.
(C.—peevishly)
This is annoying! Couldn't you as well
D'ye think, my friend, have rung the area bell?
This is a private room!
Alfred.
(L.—aside)
Oh, fatal blunder!
The force of kingly habit; 'tis no wonder!
My chance of safety lies 'twixt flight and chaff.
(to Guthrum playfully)
Why, as an officer upon the staff,
I thought my place was near the royal person.
Guth.
The staff!
Alfred.
(poking him in the ribs)
Of life, old boy—you've heard a worse un!
Guth.
(aside)
This sample of the British operative
Raises my good opinion of the native.
My friend—
Alfred.
And pitcher, if you like.
Guth.
Why such?
Alfred.
I'm here for pumping on.
Guth.
(aside)
I like him much!
A cause of quarrel 'twixt these two young men, mark:
This youth (Oswith) our page, or footman—
Alfred.
Not from Denmark.
Guth.
What makes you say so?
Alfred.
What! a thing of course, man,
If he's a footman he can't be a 'norseman.
Guth.
(R. aside, delighted)
This is a man to know!
Alfred.
(L.)
Your language spare—
I know the bearings of the whole affair!
Guth.
(surprised)
Mysterious man! if not by incantation,
How came you by this wondrous information?
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Who to the baker's man for talent comes up,
At the great art of picking little crumbs up!
Song.—Alfred—Air, “Nothing More.”
At the great art of picking little crumbs up!
The march of information keeps,
With that of commerce pace;
Our tradesmen teach us all we learn,
In each suburban place.
Your housemaid tells you “Bailiffs
Are in at number four;”
You ask her how she learnt it—
“From the milk”—and nothing more.
With that of commerce pace;
Our tradesmen teach us all we learn,
In each suburban place.
Your housemaid tells you “Bailiffs
Are in at number four;”
You ask her how she learnt it—
“From the milk”—and nothing more.
You hear your cook, Jemima, talk
Across the rails to Jane,
How Mrs. Jones, just up the row,
“Who's took to drink again.
She smugs it in as med'cine,
Through the chemist's aid next door;”
“Good gracious, Jane, who told you that?”
“The pot boy”—nothing more.
Across the rails to Jane,
How Mrs. Jones, just up the row,
“Who's took to drink again.
She smugs it in as med'cine,
Through the chemist's aid next door;”
“Good gracious, Jane, who told you that?”
“The pot boy”—nothing more.
You're called upon to judge the case
Of Mrs. Meagrim Bounce,
Who keeps a brough'm, yet don't consume,
Of meat, per day, an ounce;
While that poor child in buttons,
She starves to death's next door.
You ask, whence comes the knowledge?
“From the butcher—nothing more.”
Of Mrs. Meagrim Bounce,
Who keeps a brough'm, yet don't consume,
Of meat, per day, an ounce;
While that poor child in buttons,
She starves to death's next door.
You ask, whence comes the knowledge?
“From the butcher—nothing more.”
Guth.
Then in your wisdom dark, perchance you can
Suggest a remedy?
Alfred.
I have a plan.
There lacks the cheering feature of a fight!
Let them dispute the prize in friendly strife—
The man who's easy thrashed can't want a wife.
Guth.
A glorious project to our way of thinking,
Guthrum loves fighting more—well—next to drinking,
Go, arm yourselves!
Oswith.
(L.)
Let him expect a smasher!
Edric.
(R., aside)
I shall look up the Somersetshire slasher!
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Our pleasure to express—we feel unable—
And can but say—
Enter Servant, R. 1 E., announcing.
Servant.
(R. 1 E.)
Wittles is on the table!
Exit Servant, R.
Concerted Piece.—Air, “Varsovienne.”
Guth.
Will you take the Princess?
Ceol.
Most decidedly—yes!
Edric.
I must really confess
That I think that a slight.
All.
To the first of the feast
We can all run at least—
Though our speed be decreased
To the end of the fight!
Exeunt, all but Alfred, R. 1 E.
Alfred.
Yes—so far—all goes well—this is the night
That either makes me—or fordoes me quite!
Song.—Air, “Death of Nelson.”
That either makes me—or fordoes me quite!
'Cos in Trafalgar Square
I want my statue there,
(To be paid for I don't say when,)
With the kings and warrior folk,
The hearts of steel and oak,
And the waxy-natur men;
With Napier and with Nelson brave—
A monument of stone to have;
I mean to make a duty—
I mean to make a duty—
Along the line of statues there—
Alfred expects as something rare
His own may prove a beauty!
I want my statue there,
(To be paid for I don't say when,)
With the kings and warrior folk,
The hearts of steel and oak,
And the waxy-natur men;
With Napier and with Nelson brave—
A monument of stone to have;
I mean to make a duty—
I mean to make a duty—
Along the line of statues there—
Alfred expects as something rare
His own may prove a beauty!
Exit, R. 1 E.
| Alfred the Great ; or, The Minstrel King | |