University of Virginia Library

Scene First.

—Hall in the Castle of the Duchess Grognon—Hunting music heard.
Enter Domestics.
Chorus—“Bright Chanticleer.”
Bright chanticleer proclaims the dawn,
And hark, that distant horn;
The king he is a hunting gone,
As sure as you are born.
Come let us to the windows throng,
Of hounds I hear the cry,
I'll wager, boys, it won't be long,
Before the king comes by.
With a hey, ho, chivy!
Hark forward! hark forward! tantivy, &c.

Enter Grognon.
Grog.
How now, ye knaves! what's all this noise about?

But.
An't please your grace, the royal hounds is out.

Grog.
Is 'em! and pray what follows, Ignoramus?

But.
What follows? why the King

Grog.
The King! that's famous!
The King, you booby, keeps his room—his bed,
Weeping a wife who has been three years dead.
Who ever heard of such preposterous grief?
Her money died with her, 'tis my belief,
Or he'd have left off mourning long before;
Not that he loved her less, but loves gold more.
Meanwhile, his ugly daughter rules the roast.

But.
Ugly! her Royal Highness is the toast
Of all the beaux!

Groom.
The fairest of the fair!

Grog.
(striking them)
Ye lying knaves, take that, and that—dost dare
To contradict me? Graciosa! stuff!
A toast she may be, for she's brown enough,
And some court fools with such fine words may butter her;
But any slave of mine, who shall be utterer
Of such vile falsehoods, on the rack shall linger!
There is more beauty in my little finger
Than Graciosa has in her whole body.

Enter Page, followed by Lord Nimroddy.
Page.
His Majesty's Grand Huntsman, Lord Nimroddy.

Grog.
My lord—

Lord N.
Your grace's most devoted.

Grog.
Pray
Be seated.

Lord N.
Pardon me, I come to say,
The King, whilst riding through your grace's park
Benignly condescended to remark
The sun was most insufferably hot;
And seeing o'er the trees a chimney pot,
Sagaciously conceived a roof was nigh,
And soon this castle caught his piercing eye;
Whereon he honoured me with his commands
To kiss your grace's most illustrious hands,
And tell you that his Majesty will deign
To visit you, with all his noble train!

Grog.
The King abroad again! O, tidings glorious!
Again I shall behold the great Uxorious.
What changed our sovereign to these blest conditions?

Lord N.
The last opinion of his nine physicians.
For nine long days they've been in consultation,
And came at length to the determination
The danger of a broken heart to check,
By giving him a chance to break his neck;
So grief for his lost wife in hopes to smother,
They recommend hunting—

Grog.
(aside)
For another?
Gigantic thought! He shall not need hunt far.
(aloud)
What, ho! there! Idle rascals as you are!
Fling wide the castle gates, than lightning faster,
I fly, my lord, to meet our royal master.
(Exeunt Grognon, &c.—Flourish of trumpets)

Re-enter Grognon, with the King, attended.
March and Chorus—“Evelyn's Bower.”
O joy to the hour
When to this ancient tower
The great King Uxorious came, came, came!
His presence so bright, overpowers us quite.

King.
The sun has served me much the same, same, same.

Chorus.
Then the sun has been vastly to blame, blame, blame.

Grog.
How has your servant e'er deserved the honour
Your Majesty is pleased to heap upon her?

King.
Don't mention it! We're glad to see your grace
Looking in such remarkable good case.
(aside)
For, sooth to say, the case is very fair.

Grog.
Will't please your Majesty to take a chair?

King.
Yes, and a drop of something cool to drink.

Grog.
I wonder what your Majesty would think
Of some champagne?

King.
If long enough in ice
My Majesty would think it very nice!

She signs to Butler and Page, who go out and re-enter, the first with cellar key, and the other with a salver, on which are three goblets.
Grog.
Mine's in the wood still, but so cold my cellar
It needs no ice. Canary, Calcavella,
Malmsey, Tokay, Hock, Burgundy, whate'er
Your Majesty prefers, you'll find it there.

King.
Frankly I tell you I prefer champagne.

Grog.
To turn your royal eyes this way, sir, deign;
Here's my small stock of wine.

Music—The Butler unlocks a large pair of folding doors, at the back of stage, and discovers the interior of a vaulted cellar filled with large wine barrels—a gold hammer upon the top of one of them.
King.
Small! goodness gracious!
No wine vaults in the world are half so spacious
Or so well filled; that is if all those pipes
Are really full of wine, and not of swipes.

Grog.
We'll set that question quickly, sire, at rest;
I'll tap this golden sherry as a test.

Music—She strikes the cask three times with the hammer— The bung flies out, and guineas and other gold coin flow into a goblet held by the Page—The Butler replaces bung hastily.
King.
Golden, indeed! why these are guineas, madam!

Grog.
Dear me! I'd quite forgotten that I had 'em!

King.
Sure this must be some coinage of the brain.

Grog.
No, 'tis the current coinage of your reign.

King.
And all full weight. (aside)
Had I my will, good lack,
Wouldn't I turn that sherry into sack!

Grog.
(aside)
The King is smitten—and secure my game is—

King.
My thirst increases. (aside)
“Auri sacra fames!”

Grog.
It's some mistake; this Burgundy we'll try.

Music—Taps another cask, and rubies and pearls flow out; same business by Page and Butler.
King.
Rubies and pearls! my throat gets very dry!

Grog.
Provoking! who has tamper'd with my wine!

King.
I wish somebody tamper'd so with mine.
(aside)
Had I that precious barrel in my clutch,
I don't think I could take a drop too much.

Grog.
But you preferred champagne, sire; there should be
Some very sparkling here!

Music—Taps third cask, and diamonds come out.
King.
What do I see?
Diamonds, or I'm a Dutchman!

Grog.
I protest
Most gracious sire, that I am quite distress'd.

King.
Distress'd! and mistress of this mighty treasure?

Grog,
Indeed, it vexes me beyond all measure,
That I can only offer you this trash
Instead of a cool draught.

King.
Draught! if you'd cash.
The draught I'd draw upon you—

Grog.
With delight,—
On one condition!

King.
Name it.

Grog.
Honour bright?

King.
Whate'er it be, I swear to grant it, Duchess;
For such reward no service sure too much is!

Grog.
Make me your queen!

King.
To-day,—this very minute!

Grog.
There is my hand, sire, and the key is in it.

Trio and Chorus—“I should like to marry.”
King.
(aside)

Grog.
(aside)

Lord N.

(Exeunt)