University of Virginia Library

Scene Fifth.

—Ranelagh—a brilliant scene, and, though correct in points of detail, suggestive by its adjuncts of Cremorne—on a supper box, R., in large letters, “Ranelagh Sherry,” “This way to the Dogs and Monkeys,” “Fireworks at Eleven,” “The Ranelagh Supper half-a-crown,” “Signor Dislocatisnecki on the Treble Trapeze at Nine,” “Circus at Seven.”
Music.—Company gaily dressed à la Watteau are promenading the grounds—Waiters dressed between the Cremorne waiter and the waiter of the period, are carrying sherry cobblers and trays of tea about—a Master of the Ceremonies is walking about with an air of authority.
Enter the Lessee.
Lessee.
To-night some profit I may hope to get,
Miraculous to say, it isn't wet;
I've had these gardens open now three months,
And had it fine, I may say, scarcely once;
For my directorship it's very plain,
Is what one calls a managerial reign.

Enter Fastman, smoking, L.
Fast.
Halloa, old boy!

Lessee.
I hope I see you well!

Fast.
That fellow on the trapéze is a sell!

Lessee.
You don't mean that he's been and gone and fell?
How he's kept on so long I can't divine;
I hope he's not broke anything—of mine.

Fast.
Oh! he's a deal too careful, man, to fall,
And that's what I complain of.

Lessee.
Oh, that's all!

Fast.
Of course, if he'd create a great sensation,
The acrobat must take a lofty station,
Sight-seers love a highly seasoned dish;
In fact, were you to take them at their wish,
They'd have the trapeze swing athwart the sky.
It's dangerous game, and people like it high;
And if you want my tin, likewise, my pals,
Give us a ballet, man, and lots of gals.

Lessee.
We'll see about it.

Fast.
Do so, and look here,
We think your shilling supper dooced dear,
Drop it to sixpence and throw in some beer.

Lessee.
Then how am I to pay.

Fast.
Oh, bother that!
Your entertainment, like your Bass, is flat;
Your shows are only fit for cads or tars,
And nothing draws, not even your cigars.

Lessee.
Anything else you'd like me, sir, to do?

Fast.
Yes, put me on the free list.

Lessee.
Eh?

Fast.
For two.

Retires.
Music.—Enter Lady Milwood, L. 2 E., as if looking about for some one amongst the crowd.
Milwood.
'Tis here De Barnwell comes each night I hear,
And smokes cigars extremely cheap, poor dear;
Gazing upon me with devouring eyes,
And doing the most awful things in sighs.
His uncle's in my way, with threats unpleasant;
“'Tis here, but not engendered,” just at present.
I see a way to foil the hateful villain.
Sir Charles, your hand, sir, for the next cotillon.

M. C.
Now, carpe diem, the occasion seize;
Gentlemen, take your partners, if you please.

Music—a dance, à cotillon, by the Characters and Ballet, 24 in number—all go off.
Enter Barnwell, slowly.
Barn.
I am alone with conscience, where is she?
Moving amidst her splendid company—
With lords and ladies, who with flatteries sate her.
Jealousy racks my tortured bosom—Waiter!
Enter Waiter, L.
Methinks I see her—dandies at her side—
Who would a numble youth like me deride.
Oh, Milwood, would I from your thrall were free!
What madness will you drive one to? One tea!
I am in haste, so look alive, be quick!
How loathsome's food—some bread and butter, thick!
(the Waiter places a small tray, with bread and butter, tea and watercresses, on a little table, R. C. Barnwell sits at it)
This banquet's not what one might term a ch'ice 'un—
This tea is not enticin', it ain't hyson;
The butter's salt, the bread like me is sad,
The water creases ain't so very bad.
I think I might consume two more such pieces—
I really find my appetite in creases.
I do this every night without variety,
Fondly imagining I'm in society;
I can't repress a sigh—alas, you see
This is the way I do so sigh at tea.
Punch Song—“Puritan's Daughter.”

Enter Milwood, R. U. E.
Barn.
Another cup, I think, I'll take—encore! (Milwood seizes his arm)
Your ladyship.

Milwood
(L.)
Forbear, and eat no more.

Barn.
Most lovely of thy sex, I ain't eat none yet.

Milwood.
Bah!

Barn.
Queen of my soul, I haven't done yet.

Milwood.
Come here, I'd speak with you, there's no one by,
Don't mind your cup o' tea, look up at I,
You have an uncle. (chord)
He's my foe—no words
He dies.

Barn.
Oh dear, the tea's all turned to curds;
I don't feel well—you don't mean—

Millwood.
Yes, I do!

Barn.
Only a little?

Millwood.
No, completely through!

(he staggers and leans against chair)
Duet—Milwood—“Martha.”
You list to me,
I would be free,
From a villain whom I detest to see;
You understand,
This daring hand
Courage has, and nerve to do the deed.
When you know
That one blow
Is sufficient me to make
Happy you
That will do
I am certain for my sake;
Yes, I am certain for my sake—
Think of what's at stake!
Milwood, Milwood, prays De Barnwell—
Prays De Barnwell her to rid;
If her love her George would a'rn well,
He will do as he is bid,
He will do as he is bid.

George
—“Mrs. Johnson.”
Your meaning is as clear as mud;
A deed you mean—mean of be-lud;
You've only got to say the wud,
It's with my wishes conson-
Ant—when I say ant, I mean
Not ant, but uncle;—all serene!
A wretched quip, which would, I ween,
Enrage poor Doctor Johnson.

Air—Milwood—“Black Sal.”
Milwood.
Get your best weapons ready this wretch to annihilate;

Barn.
Yes, I will arm myself, just as the nervous do,

Milwood.
'Gainst those low ruffians who do the laws so violate,

Barn.
When they're some shy neighbourhoods agoing through.

Milwood.
When of this plague I am rid I shall happy be,
Say I may trust to your arm, say I may.

Barn.
Make yourself easy, I'll arm myself cap-a-pie,
As if burglaree and garotting was my lay.

(both dance “Black Sal and Dusty Bob” jig off, R. and L.—enter all the Visitors, and dance an umbrella dance as scene closes)