University of Virginia Library

Scene Fourth.

—Inside the Palace at Algiers.
Enter Ali Brown Windsor, R. 1 E., and Rahatlakoum, L. 1 E.
Ali.
You've heard the news, then, that his ship's in sight?
What a relief.

Rahat.
I haven't slept all night.
The scampering and gnawing you'll agree,
Must have been most a gnawing, sir, to me,
Who slept beside the pantry—I'm a mardyr.

Ali.
The pantry?

Rahat.
Yes, my fate's a little harder.

Ali.
I never heard a scratch, but like a dormouse,
Slept though the noise of rats, dear, was enor-mouse.
They've eaten up my soap, my oil, my tapers,
Amongst my shirt fronts kicked up awful capers;
Traps and contrivances quite useless seem—
Not even sacred is my shaving cream.

(cannons—drums—shouts, R.)
Rahat.
He's landed, I can see him. (crosses, R.)


Ali.
You speak truly,
Here comes his idiot factotum, Muley. (music)

Enter Muley, R. 1 E.
Ah, friend, you're pale, you tremble and look grave!

Muley.
I've had a life upon de ocean wave,
Which though a pretty sentiment to sing,
Reduced to facts is quite anoder ting.
We've had a awful passage, I declare.
Being the ship's steward it's too 'ard to bear.
Once as a sailor I had a reputation.
I ill? I'd scorn the basin-sinuation;
But now I'm conquered, slave to sad disasters,
By wind, by water, and the ship three masters.

Enter Guards, Emperor, Dick, the Cat and Rose, R. 1 E.
Emp.
(C.)
Welcome to Court.

Rose.
(R.)
Oh, goodness!

Dick.
(R. C.)
Oh, my gracious!
As we say in the City, it's splendacious!

Rose.
I wonder what this sort of place they call?

Dick.
Why, as it's all gilt, I should say Guildhall.

Emp.
My slaves, for presentation pray prepare 'em.
This is a lady, hem!

Dick.
Hear, hear!

Muley.
(L.)
Yes, harem.

Dick.
She's deuced pretty.

Rose.
Well, what next, I'm sure?

Dick.
What is Morocco for a love? (to Emperor)


Emp.
A Moor!

Dick.
It's something to be king for all that's said.
No wonder, I should think, that you cut trade.
The custom of the country learnt quite soon is,
Once in Morocco, very changed one's tune is.

Emp.
The fact is, friend, that I object to do,
Anything I can set another to;
So being king o'er subjects strong and various,
I choose to make my exploits all vicarious.
My people work, and fight, and sing, and dance for me,
And extra loans for luxuries advance for me.
And were I not thus found in peace and pelf,
A fool to do the dirty work myself.

Dick.
You're right! your sentiments are very pretty,
They are the favourite maxims of the City.
The civic mode of action's somewhat funny—
Do nothing, make a show, and keep the money.

Emp.
Well, now to business. You're, of course, aware
In this position there's no time to spare?
The rats, on pillage and destruction bent,
Have even got into our Parliament.

Dick.
That has an English sound.

Rose.
Don't be absurd!

Dick.
Well, sir, this animal will keep his word.
He will, by execution on your rats,
Keep up the credit of our British cats.
Oh, he'll do wonders if you give him scope,
He hates all rats and is a mice-anthrope!

Emp.
He has an honest look, and I'm aware,
He'll stick to what he says—I've heard him swear.
(to Cat)
Relieve my much oppressed and punished land—
I brought you here on pur-puss, understand.
As to your fortune, do not think you chance it,
You only tell “me-ow,” and I'll advance it.

Concerted Piece, Round—“Three Blind Mice.”
Dick.
Three fine mice!

Mariner.
See how they run!

Muley.
They all run off to save their life.

Rose.
He's caught an old rat and his aged wife.

Ali.
Did ever you see such a thing in your life?
Three fine mice, &c., &c., &c.

(till all the Characters sing it)
Exeunt Cat, Ali, Rahatlakoum and Guards, L.
Emp.
Young man, you are a trump!

Rose.
Why, goodness gracious!

Dick.
What is the matter?

Emp.
Is my sight veracious?

Muley.
Look dere! Ole massa hab de trip survived,
And in a caravan hab just arrived.

Rose.
What's to be done?

Dick.
Keep quiet; not so loud!
I think we'd better leave him with the crowd.
They'll beat him till the City wouldn't know him,
And so discharge the little debt I owe him.
They'll much regret this mad pursuit, I'm thinking.

Enter Ali, L.
Ali.
The rats are disappearing all like winking!

Exit, L.
Emp.
Impossible! the slave of wit's bereft!

Dick.
Tommy's begun.

Enter Ali, L.
Ali.
There's only twenty left!

Exit, L.
Muley.
These Moors get so excited, it don't draw;
They should adopt the African sang fraw.

Emp.
You shall be made a prince!

Rose.
You hear? Oh, my!

Dick.
Delighted! but at present—let us fly!

Concerted Piece—Air, “Brigham Young.”
Emp.
Of this old king only ask a thing
And it's yours with the greatest joy;

Dick.
As safe as any clock, oh! I shall get on in Morocco,
That's better than a 'prentice boy!

Rose.
In this land if inclined you may make up your mind
For a pleasant little change of lives;

Muley.
In the clime of Ramoo Sammy we go in for poly-gamy,
And marry a dozen wives!

Chorus.
Like Brigham, Brigham Young,
Who, I'm happy to relate, survives;
We've an institution great—being permitted by the state,
To have five-and-forty wives!

Dance off, L. 1 E.
Enter, dismally, Alderman, Mrs. Callipash, Sir Highbury, Fitzbabbage, and Philpott, R. 1 E.
Alder.
(R.)
My goodness, here's a state of things!

Mrs. C.
(R.)
You brute!
To let me down first in a parachute!
Why should I be selected for the test?

Sir H.
(C.)
Fiat experimentum, and the rest.
He sent you by the parachute, 'tis true,
But don't believe we better shared than you;
So much I've suffered, both in limb and feature,
I'm but a mass of clay—a poor slain creature!

Alder.
I ne'er met people of such savage sort;
This place is not a sherry table port.
For all their customs much contempt I feel.

Fitz.
And yet the people struck you a good deal.

Sir H.
Your feeble efforts were of course derided;
Why didn't you stick up to them, as I did?

Phil.
(L.)
As to their eyes, a well-directed crack—
I found—intensified the native black.
The licking that one fellow got to-day
Won't make the Moor the merrier, I say!

Alder.
They laughed at me.

Sir H.
The place is, from its sneers,
Not inappropriately named all jeers!

Alder.
Since the balloon broke down—

Phil.
You mean, burst up!

Alder.
I haven't tasted decent bit or sup.
It's tantalising to walk over land which is
Only one-third of what we needed—sandwiches.

Sir H.
Although we did discover, every one,
The land of Ham beneath this bakin' sun.

Mrs. C.
But—oh! my tongue its occupation shirks,
To tell the manners of these dreadful Turks;
The Arabs, too!

Fitz.
(L.)
Well, if they didn't plaze ye,
You should have said in Irish, “Arab, be aisy!’

Alder.
That awful caravan, too—what a ride!
They're only made to carry van outside.

Mrs. C.
Hush! here comes some one.

Phil.
Who is it, I say?

Sir. H.
The very nigger whom we saw that day;
I'll give it him!

Mrs. C.
For goodness' sake, be still!

Sir H.
(aside)
As he's a good deal bigger, p'r'aps I will.

Enter Muley, L.
Muley.
Against my will, I'm sent to bid you come
And see our king—as Yankees say—to hum.

Alder.
To hum?

Mrs. C.
Bee still!

Sir H.
Then, say we'll come, with pleasure.
I hear these fools load visitors with treasure.

Alder.
Alas! their favour often lasts but one day;
It's pearls on Saturday, and die o' Monday?

Fitz.
In hospitality the country shines.

Phil.
(to Mrs. C.)
Fetch out your price-card and your list of wines.

Alder.
I wish I could escape; I dread this day!

Sir H.
A negro stops an egress, though, I say!

Phil.
Cheer up!

Fitz.
We are in for it!

Alder.
We are—worse luck!

Sir H.
Look bold, and brag, though, of our English pluck.
The Government protects us in this nation;
We've got a Consul.

Alder.
That's a consolation.

Concerted Piece.—“Girl with the Golden Hair.”
Sir Highbury, Alderman, Philpott, Muley, Fitzbabbage, Mrs. Callipash.
Phil.
No matter if our Fates will frown;
We'll dare 'em their worst to do!

Alder.
It serves me right for quitting the Town,
And all I foretold's come true!

Mrs. C.
It's all for nought that here we're sent.

Fitz.
Allow me to repeat
That old familiar sentiment,
What says, “Revenge is sweet!”

All.
Sweet!

Sir H.
I vow I'll follow them everywhere,
Every—everywhere!
I'll bet you a crown I'll soon come down
On that chap with the curly hair.

Repeat ensemble.
Muley.
Poor victims ob dis wild-goose chase,
Alone in dis foreign land!
You'd better far hab stayed in your place,
And stuck to your native strand.

Alder.
Although a nigger, your remark
In every point's correct;
And what is worse, we're in the dark
To what we may expect!

All.
—Pect!

Repeat ensemble—dance off, L.