 | The Good Woman in the Wood |  |
Scene First.
—Cottage and Garden of the Good Woman in the Wood.Enter Finfin, followed by Myrtis.
Myr.
Dear brother Finfin, prithee don't give way so,
You'll cry your eyes out if you weep all day so;
Why for the loss of a poor starling fret?
Fin.
'Twas given to me by my dear Lirette,
And she will think I held her present light.
Myr.
How was it that you didn't hold it tight?
Fin.
It was so tame—you know as well as I,
To hop the twig I never thought 'twould try;
Came when 'twas called, did as 'twas bid, and would
Have shut the door behind it, if it could.
Myr.
Well, never mind—be comforted, dear brother,
I'll see if I can't catch for you another.
Fin.
It won't be that she gave me. I could never
Love it so much, or think it half so clever.
A flock of starlings can't my peace restore,
For dear Lirette will never love me more!
Enter Lirette.
Lir.
That's quite true, brother—for I don't know how
Lirette could love you more than she does now.
Fin.
What, though I've lost the bird you gave me?
Lir.
Pshaw!
Spite of the proverb, I declare I saw
Two in the bush just now, well worth the one
You had in hand—and sure as any gun
I'll catch them for you.
218
So I offered too,
But nothing I could say to him would do.
Fin.
I own it. Myrtis might have talked for years;
One smile from you has dried up all my tears.
Why should that be?—both sisters and both kind,
Yet only dear Lirette I seem to mind.
Air—Finfin—“Phillis is my only joy.”
One smile from you has dried up all my tears.
Why should that be?—both sisters and both kind,
Yet only dear Lirette I seem to mind.
Lirette is my only joy!
Her I never vex nor teaze.
If I lose my game or toy
She alone can soothe or please.
If in the blues
I mope and muse,
Lirette, smiling and beguiling,
Makes me happier than before!
Her I never vex nor teaze.
If I lose my game or toy
She alone can soothe or please.
If in the blues
I mope and muse,
Lirette, smiling and beguiling,
Makes me happier than before!
Myrtis is to me as kind,
But her kindness cheer me won't!
If she likes me—I don't mind;
She may lump me—if she don't!
Why this should be
I can't well see,
One still slighting,
While delighting
In the other more and more!
But her kindness cheer me won't!
If she likes me—I don't mind;
She may lump me—if she don't!
Why this should be
I can't well see,
One still slighting,
While delighting
In the other more and more!
Lirette is my only joy, &c.
Myr.
The fact is, we don't want another starling,
We want another brother—a nice darling,
That would love me, and make of me a pet,
Exactly as you do of dear Lirette.
Fin., Lir.
That's it! we do!
Fin.
Let's all run, and ask mother
To find us, instantly, another brother.
Lir.
Yes! yes! I'm sure she will, she is so good;
She found us three, you know, here in the wood,
When we were little tiny babies—why,
To find a fourth should she not now go try?
219
Aye! but I shouldn't care for one so small,
I want a brother who is quite as tall
At least as Finfin, who can walk and chat.
Fin.
Ah! I don't think they're found as big as that.
Lir.
You must have patience, Myrtis, till he grows up,
And bring him, just as I have brought this rose up.
(as she is about to gather a rose from the tree, she pricks her finger with a thorn)
Oh!
Fin., Myr.
What's the matter?
Fin.
Oh! a nasty thorn
Has pierced her precious little finger! torn
The skin, and drawn the blood! Quick, let me bind it.
Dame is heard singing outside.
Lir.
It is not much! here's mother! never mind it!
Enter Dame.
Dame.
What do I see? One of my pets in pain?
(runs to Lirette)
Let mother kiss and make it well again.
(kissing her)
Fin.
Will kissing cure it? Oh, my stars, how prime!
Won't I remember that another time.
Lir.
Dear mother, why do flowers so sweet and gay
Have horrid thorns to prick one's finger, pray?
Dame.
To warn you, when at pleasure you would snatch,
Beneath it lurking you may find “Old Scratch!”
Fin.
It only shews me that, to fear a stranger,
He who would gain the prize must scorn the danger.
Dame.
Finfin! I will not have you be so bold!
Lir.
Nay, dearest mother, don't poor Finfin scold.
Dame.
I will! I must! he really has such notions,
He fills my heart with all sorts of emotions.
Lir.
So he does mine; but then they're all so charming.
Dame.
Lirette! (aside)
Good gracious! This grows more alarming!
(aloud)
You must not be so fond of one another.
Fin.
Not fond of Lirette?
Lir.
I! not love my brother?
Dame.
Love him? yes, surely, as a sister may.
Lir.
Law! can I love him any other way?
220
(aside)
“Oh! les enfans terrible!” I protest
I scarcely know what course will be the best.
Of all the questions that e'er posed a nation,
None puzzle one so much as education.
How far to stock young people's heads with knowledge is
A stumbling block amongst the heads of colleges.
And a poor dame like me must needs be beaten,
With what would bother e'en a dame at Eton!
Air—Dame—“We gather shells.”
I scarcely know what course will be the best.
Of all the questions that e'er posed a nation,
None puzzle one so much as education.
How far to stock young people's heads with knowledge is
A stumbling block amongst the heads of colleges.
And a poor dame like me must needs be beaten,
With what would bother e'en a dame at Eton!
While some believe youth good for naught,
Unless they're crammed with every lore;
And others think they should be taught
Perhaps to spell—but little more;
There are who say, “He does as well,
“Whose brains no schooling e'er beguiled;
“My father never learned to spell,
“Yet left a fortune to his child.”
Unless they're crammed with every lore;
And others think they should be taught
Perhaps to spell—but little more;
There are who say, “He does as well,
“Whose brains no schooling e'er beguiled;
“My father never learned to spell,
“Yet left a fortune to his child.”
There's now a college in the Strand,
Where learning's ladder climb you may—
And ragged schools on every hand,
Where what you learn is hard to say.
For education naught we grudge!
Still out one shells—for wisdom wild!
And soon for “Wise as any judge,”
You'll say “As learned as a child.”
Where learning's ladder climb you may—
And ragged schools on every hand,
Where what you learn is hard to say.
For education naught we grudge!
Still out one shells—for wisdom wild!
And soon for “Wise as any judge,”
You'll say “As learned as a child.”
To trust them with the truth I've qualms about it,
Yet fear to trust them longer much without it.
They must not rest under a false impression
Now they've arrived at years of in-discretion.
(aloud)
Children, I've got a story to relate.
Yet fear to trust them longer much without it.
They must not rest under a false impression
Now they've arrived at years of in-discretion.
(aloud)
Children, I've got a story to relate.
All Three.
A story! O, delightful!
(coming forward)
Fin.
Do just wait
Till I have put this chair for you—we'll sit
Around and hear it, mother, every bit.
(places chair for Dame in the centre of the stage—she sits)
Lir.
(seating herself at her feet)
Finfin, sit next to me.
Fin.
Yes, that I will!
221
Indeed you won't! sit there, sir, and sit still,
If it be possible, or you shall go
Into the corner and not hear it.
All Three.
Oh!
Dame.
Well, then, be quiet.
Lir.
We'll be mute as mice.
Fin.
Now, mother, do begin! Oh, ain't it nice.
Dame.
Once on a time there lived a king and queen,
Who were the happiest couple ever seen.
Blessed with two charming babes they loved so dearly,
They smothered them with kisses very nearly.
Fin.
Isn't it capital?
Lir.
Now, Finfin, don't.
Dame.
Perhaps, as Lirette asks you, sir, you won't.
This good king had a brother very cruel,
Who one day put some poison in his gruel.
And soon as ever the poor king was dead,
He clapped the crown on his own wicked head.
Lir.
Oh, what a naughty man!
Fin.
The vile old thief!
Myr.
And the poor queen?
Dame.
She died, alas, of grief.
Lir.
And the two little darlings, whom their mother
And father used with kisses so to smother?
Dame.
The tyrant had no taste for such sweet habits,
He smothered them with onions, just like rabbits.
Fin.
And ate 'em like an ogre?
Dame.
He knows best
What he did with them after they were dressed.
I only know that dished by royal warrant,
The infant heirs were no more heirs apparent.
And their bad uncle to their realms so fair,
Succeeded as King Bruin, called “the Bear.”
(rises)
Lir.
Oh! you don't mean to say the story is o'er?
Dame.
No, I come now to what concerns you more.
The wicked king having thus gained his ends,
Snugly about him quartered all his friends,
His foes he quartered also, I confess,
But hanged them first, which made them like it less.
At least, so thought the widow of a knight,
Who for the good king fallen had in fight.
222
And strove to keep herself by keeping sheep.
One morn, when looking for a lamb astray,
She came where 'neath a lime tree sleeping lay
Three little children.
Lir.
Little children?
Myr.
Three?
Fin.
Just as you found Myrtis, Lirette, and me?
Dame.
Exactly; for it is of you I speak.
Fin.
And it was you who went the lamb to seek?
Why, then the brave knight was my father!
Dame.
No!
Nor am I, dears, your mother.
All Three.
Don't say so.
Fin.
You must—you shall be!
Lir.
We will have no other.
We're old enough to choose now—arn't we, brother?
Fin.
If we belonged another mother to,
Why did not she find us instead of you?
Dame.
Because, poor soul, it was her fate to lose you.
But here's a point that may still more confuse you.
You may not all, perhaps, the children be
Of the same mother.
Fin.
Not Lirette and me?
Dame.
How can I tell? Three helpless pickaninies,
Wrapped in three mantles, worth three hundred guineas,
With golden chains and lockets round your necks.
(Each as I found it still the wearer decks.)
A name, as I suppose, on each was set
In jewels, “Finfin,” “Myrtis,” and “Lirette.”
I brought you home, and up as mine.
Lir.
And so
We are, and will be. I should like to know
What more we want. I'm sure, if I could gain,
By rubbing this small locket on my chain,
Whate'er I wished, as that young Arab scamp,
Aladdin, could, by rubbing his old lamp,
I should be puzzled what request to make,
Unless I wished just for mere wishing's sake,
As I'm so fond of them—A House of Roses!
223
Fin.
And there it is, right slap before our noses.
Dame.
Ne'er till to day was such a house “on view!’
The furniture is all of roses too.
Of damask roses all the curtains fair—
Of China roses all the crockery ware.
With carpets of moss roses 'neath one's feet,
And rooms that are in every sense “en suite.”
Myr.
What if my locket had such virtue in it.
Fin.
Wish something—anything to try—this minute.
Myr.
I wish this poor little potato patch
Was a fine garden, our new house to match.
Music—The scene changes accordingly—In lieu of the small garden and wood, magnificent pleasure grounds extend as far as the eye can reach, with statuettes, fountains, terraces, &c., &c.
Dame.
Of some illusion we are sure the sport.
I'm in a maze, as though at Hampton Court!
Cremorne and Rosherville combined are there.
Paterre ne'er painted such a fine parterre.
With parks and grounds to walk, or hunt, or fish in,
Who can deny we had good grounds for wishing!
Lir.
Now, Finfin, try your locket.
Fin.
Well, then. Here!
I wish some prince would come to hunt the deer
In that fine park by which our garden girt is,
And fall head over ears in love with Myrtis.
Myr.
Law! Fall in love with me?
Lir.
Head over ears?
Wouldn't it hurt him?
Dame.
Very much, my dears.
(to Finfin)
What of such follies, pray, sir, should you know?
Fin.
I've heard you talk of princes doing so
In fairy tales, and so I wished—
(hunting horns in the distance)
Dame.
Why, hark!
Somebody is a hunting in the park.
224
And here's a young man coming up this path.
Dame.
One of you quickly wish he was at Bath.
Myr.
I couldn't; I've not got the heart to do it;
He is so handsome!
Dame.
There! I felt! I knew it!
(hunting horns nearer)
Enter Prince Sylvan.
Prince.
Madam, I beg you twenty thousand pardons;
But I presume you own this house and gardens.
Dame.
I own I occupy them, sir, at present.
Prince.
An occupation, I presume, most pleasant.
Your daughter, I presume, (looking at Myrtis)
the rose most blooming
Of all the bower.
Dame.
Sir, you are too presuming.
Prince.
Forgive me, 'tis a habit on me grown,
Since I've been heir presumptive to the throne.
Dame.
A Prince!
Prince.
Prince Sylvan, step-son to King Bruin.
Fin.
What, the bad King?
Dame.
Boy, this will be our ruin.
Fin.
I'll wish him gone directly—
Dame.
'Tis in vain.
He struck poor Myrtis—she struck him again.
Lir.
Dear mother, when?
Dame.
This moment—at first sight!
Fin.
Well, if he struck her first, she served him right.
Lir.
And look where yonder, underneath the trees,
He begs her to forgive him—on his knees.
Dame.
(seeing Prince Sylvan, who has followed Myrtis up the stage, kneeling to her)
Myrtis! Prince Sylvan!
What are you about?
Prince.
About to marry.
Dame.
What! my leave without?
Prince.
I'm told you are so good—you'll not say no;
To get the licence and the ring I go.
Dame.
Rash Prince! you will not act so madly!
Prince.
Won't I!
(Exit Prince)
225
Myrtis, you don't mean that you love him?
Myr.
Don't I!
Dame.
I'm a dead woman! He'll bring Bruin here!
And Bruin soon will bring me to my bier!
Fin.
But if we wish him not, why then he can't.
Dame.
Well, there's some little hope in that, I grant.
And on that little I must needs rely,
Since Fate has put her finger in the pie.
But if you love me, and would 'scape perdition,
Wish nothing more without my full permission.
Quartette—Dame, Lirette, Finfin, and Myrtis—“Carry me back to Old Virginny.”
Dame.
If little folks had all their wishes
What folly they'd oft betray.
Fin.
I have but one, and oh! to get it—
Dame.
Ah! don't you wish you may?
Lir.
No, let's wait till time's propitious.
Myr.
Or till we need help more.
All Three.
And then we'll wish whate'er you wish us.
Dame.
And wish no wish before.
I then may wish you'll further wish us
Than e'er we were before.
(Exeunt into cottage)
| The Good Woman in the Wood | |