University of Virginia Library

Scene First.

—The Fields of Fancy. Music.
Enter from R. U. E., through cave and down steps to stage, twelve Fairies; Fancy up trap, R. C., with a letter.
Fancy.
And so this Christmas, '62 and '3
They want a new piece at the Adelphee;
Something admitting of no end of fun—
A subject, too, that never has been done,
If possible. And so to Fancy they
Have sent, imagining that Fancy's play
May help them out. Alas! they well might know
A play of fancy's now considered slow,
Bygone, old-fashioned, can't a smile provoke—oh!
Nothing to chuckle at, it's quite ro-coa-coa.
Plays must be highly spiced for modern taste,
The age must run and read, and time won't waste.
I must assistance seek:—Romance, attend!
Enter Romance and Claptrap up traps, R.
Romance, good morrow! Welcome! Who's your friend?

Romance
(introducing, C.)
Allow me, Fancy, Claptrap, (whispers Fancy)
Friend in need,
You can't get on without him.

Fancy
(L.)
Oh, indeed!

Claptrap
(R.)
I'm he who prompts the author, I confess,
To write of “lovely woman in distress.”
To make his virtuous peasant say, “This breast,
Although 'tis clad in economic vest,
Contains a heart—a—” All that sort of thing.
I make my heroes from a high rock fling
Themselves into the waves. 'Tis I who bid
Six pirates fall before one jack-tar's quid.
'Tis I who prompt the lover in the play,
When he's a glorious platitude to say,
Never to speak it, but to spout it—shout it!
In fact, I'm Claptrap, and that's all about it.

Fancy
(L.)
Something we should concoct, with three to do it—

Enter Folly suddenly, L. trap.
Folly.
You'd far best trust to me, I'll pull you through it!

Romance.
(R. C.)
And who are you, sir?

Folly.
(L. C.)
I am Folly—dear
To me's this special season of the year.
As much a part of Christmas time is Folly,
As snow, plum pudding, indigestion, holly.
You want a subject—what do you suggest?
Fancy, you're surely wersed in all that's best.

Fancy
(L.)
My brain I've racked in in hopes ideas to gain;
Gone through our acting drama but in vain.
See nothing feasible I really can, sir.

Folly
(L. C.)
Well, what say you, Romance? (Romance shrugs her shoulder)
That's a rum answer.
Claptrap, you can suggest a theme, no doubt.

Claptrap.
I can't suggest, I only carry out.
When you've the subject, plot, and situations,
I can oblige you p'raps with some sensations.

Folly.
And Boxing-night we're just upon the brink of—
Really it's very terrible to think of.

Song—Folly—“There was a little man.”
There is a certain man,
Who is hard up for a plan,
Where upon to hang his parody and pun, pun, pun;
There is no subject new:
I don't know one—do you?
It's extremely sad, but everything's been done, done, done.

Chorus
—It's extremely sad, &c.

[Folly]
D'Anois tales, and every baby 'un,
And all the Nights Arabian,
Have of't been used as vehicles for fun, fun, fun;
And down here in the west he
Can find nothing for travestie,
For the merry folks this Christmas in Lon-don-don-don.

Chorus
—For the merry, &c.

[Folly]
There are some eight, nine or ten p'raps,
That will do well o'er again p'raps,
And I fancy that George Barnwell may be one, one, one;

Romance.
George Barnwell! yes, it would, sir;

Claptrap.
George Barnwell! very good, sir;

Folly.
Then George Barnwell we'll determine shall be done, done, done.

Chorus
—Then George Barnwell, &c.

Claptrap.
I'll lend thee a hand;

Folly.
Thou art kind.

Romance.
And I another;

Folly.
I myself have all the other.

Romance
(R. C.)
I'll plan the story on a new foundation;

Claptrap
(R.)
I'll pop in now and then a “situation.”

Fancy
(L.)
Fancy shall lend her free, unfettered aid;

Folly
(L. C.)
You will! then Folly's Christmas piece is made;
Avoiding personality—scurrility,
Only 'gainst shams exhibiting hostility;
Wreathing a garland of jest, prank, and pun,
Pointing a moral too amidst our fun.
We'll shew the woes of a would-be patrician,
The grief to which comes Brummagem ambition;
I, in the form of Lady Milwood, will
With foolish thoughts his brain and bosom fill;
And shew the bitter grief and melancholy
Resulting from a wild pursuit of folly.
Come! Is the notion good—what do you say?

Fancy.
Our soul's in arms—

All.
And eager for the play.

Song—Folly—“Rataplan.”
Such a plan, such a plan, such a plan, plan, plan,
Such a plan must turn out all right;
So I'll set about my task at once, and commence this very night:
This young man, this young man, this young man, man, man,
Must be taught a lesson slight;
I'll make his present dark, so that his future may be bright!
As Milwood, I
Will charm his eye,
And captive lead his sense;
And I'll dress,
And confess
That I love,
Far above
That poor youth, all the universe—yes.

Chorus.
—Such a plan, &c.

(Ballet march off up platform—Folly, Claptrap, Fancy and Romance sink through four front traps to Chorus)