University of Virginia Library

Scene Seventh.

—The Sacred Grove. Statue of Odin, C. Sacrificial pile before it.
Enter Guthrum, Haldane, and Edric, R.
Guth.
(C.)
Mercy! Pooh! Pooh! we're as the Medes and Persians,
Besides, they're men of Wessex here—not Mercians,
This chance of an example's a delightful one—
I hope they've thought of making him a frightful one!

Edric.
(L.)
I've seen to that—the victim's form I've deck'd,
In the most hideous garb I could select—
So to strike terror in each rebel subject,
By shewing them a real revolting object.

Guth.
'Tis well! (to Haldane)
how fares our daughter!

Hald.
(R.)
She at present
Seems under a delusion not unpleasant—
She thinks with Oswith, 'tis her wedding day—

Guth.
Poor child! indulge her wayward fancy's play!

Hald.
We have, sire, e'en in its most wild excesses—
She orders—oh! such heaps of bridal dresses;
Jewels—wreaths—feathers—wedding feasts and coaches—

Guth.
(excited)
Cure her of that—but the cortegé approaches!

Music from Norma.—Changing to “Please to remember the Fifth of November.”
Enter the Sacrificial Procession.—Dunulf, Maude, Oddune, and other Saxons, disguised as Priests and Priestesses of Odin. The Victim (Alfred supposed to be Oswith), is brought in, in a chair a la Guy Fawkes, in imitation of whom he is made up.—Mask—Paper Cap, &c. Danish Soldiers enter in attendance, R. 1 E. The chair is put down on stage, R. C.
Hald.
(L.)
Is this the noble Oswith? Oh! how changed!

Edric.
(in L. corner)
I may say—ha! ha! ha! I am revainged!

Guth.
(to the Victim)
Prisoner on the bars, that is to be,
The Ordeal of Domestic Cookery!
You've one chance left to 'scape from if you will—
And as a raw recruit continue still.
(Victim strikes ridiculous attitudes)
Give up King Alfred's cause? (Victim shakes his head)
In any case
Give up the secret of his hiding-place?
(Victim more violent than before)
At least, desist from such gesticulation,
So unbecoming in your situation.
(Victim continues more violently)
I see my warnings are superfluous!
Light up at once!

Enter Ina, R. 1 E., pale and dishevelled, in the stage maniac style—draws a dagger from her bosom, and is about to stab herself.
Ina.
Oswith! I wed thee thus!

(chord)
The real Oswith runs in, R. 1 E., and arrests her hand—tableau.
Guth.
(L. C.)
Two Oswith's in the field!

(movement on the part of the Danes)
Oswith.
(R., looking at the Victim)
Do I sit there?
Who in my place has dared to take the chair
On this occasion? Ha! I see it all!
That muffled form within my prison wall—
That smell of chloroform—Oh! 'tis most certain.
(to the Victim)
Sir, may I ask, is your name Sidney Carton?

Guth.
The name is immaterial to the end—
Put Oswith down at once—for self and friend!

(pointing to Alfred)
(chord.—Alfred throws off his disguise, and stands armed before Guthrum—Soldiers remove chair)
Alfred.
Let fall thy knife. Butcher and cook in one!
The beef of England isn't to be done!
Britons, strike home! The fires of vengeance kindle!
Explode at once this antiquated swindle!

Music.—The statue of Odin and the altar are blown up and disappear—Oddune, Dunulf, Maude, &c. throw off their disguises, and engage hand to hand with the Danes—Edric runs out, Oswith fights off with Haldane, single combat between Alfred and Guthrum, Guthrum defeated—Saxons re-enter at end of fight victorious.
Alfred.
(standing over Guthrum)
Like any more?

Guth.
Not any, if you please.

Alfred.
(picking him up by his waistband à la pantaloon)
Well, then, jump up, and let's conclude a peace.

Guth.
(humbly)
I'll sing whatever pledge seems fit to you.

Alfred.
I won't be hard; the temp'rance one will do;
Give up the Hirlas Horn and stick to coffee!
Enter Elswith, L. 1 E., and runs to embrace Aflred.
Elswith, my bride! victory's dearest trophy;
Pardon all traitors! Set all captives free!

Enter Oswith, L. 1 E., with Edric in custody, his arm bound behind a stake, Oswith crosses at back to R. C.
Oddune.
(R.)
With this one base exception, plase!

Alfred.
(C.)
Who's he?

Oswith.
(R. C.)
A lot so bad he passes calculation.

Alfred.
Case for exceptional consideration,
He should be handed to our army's fury,
But we'll be merciful. Try him by jury.

Oswith.
The law's not yet invented.

Alfred.
Is is not?
Then Alfred here invents it on the spot.
(coming forward to audience)
We English some such pretext ought to seize
For the protection of our liberties,
Which you'll admit—at least on this occasion,
We've proved extremely great for any nation.

Oswith.
(nudging him)
But there are more than twelve.

Alfred.
Well, that's a fact,
But I shan't challenge them for being packed;
Bring with you ev'ry brother, uncle, cousin,
And my conception of a baker's dozen,
You scarcely will exceed in any case.

Oswith.
Your verdict, eh? (pointing to Alfred)
Right man in the right place?

Alfred.
Right man in the right place? Pray where's a higher place
For me to bake in, than my own snug fire-place?
Provided always, mind, that you're not crusty,
And think me as a baker none so dusty;
I mean to carry on the bus'ness here,
And make my bread by it for many a year,
Though as a fitting mould to bake it in,
You must be good enough to find the tin.
(pause)
An after-thought my novel trade supplies,—
Bakers will dip their fingers in folks' pies,
Where they've no bus'ness—though 't has been my fate,
To stir up dreadful hashes from the grate,
The part I've played is English—thorough-bred!
Would you have liked a thin French rolé instead?
The scene changes discovering Danish Fleet, and the piece terminates by the appearance of the Channel Fleet.
Finale.—“Britons, strike home,” changing to “Rule Britannia.”
'Twas Alfred first that fenced our strand
Around—about the azure main
Rule Britannia, &c.

Curtain.