 | Young and Handsome |  |
173
Scene Third.
—Interior of Alidor's Cottage—In the panels are paintings of “Cybele and Atys” and of “Paris and Ænone.”Enter Mordicanta.
Mor.
So Young and Handsome has been at her tricks,
And Old Nick yet, to serve me, has done nix.
I'll put my shoulder to Miss Fortune's wheel,
And try on Cupid a rogue's march to steal.
(retires)
Enter Alidor.
Ali.
Wonders will never cease! Outside! 'tis night;
Inside my cottage is as noon-day bright!
The obligation, though, would be still greater,
Were more light thrown on the illuminator.
Is that sweet shepherdess my benefactress?
If so, she is a most consummate actress;
If not, I'm in a deuce of a quandary—
I lose my fair, or I affront my fairy!
Mordicanta touches the wall with her crutch and retires again, and the paintings in the panels change—“Atys” appears frantic, and “Paris” is seen dead.
Ha! To my question comes an answer magical.
Shewing, of these two tales, the turn up tragical.
Where Atys knelt to Cybele, the pompous,
The perjured shepherd now is seen non-compos!
And where Ænone called false Paris master,
Paris lies cold as cast in his own plaster!
Each an immortal beauty's love could slight,
And verdict in both cases, “Serve him right.”
It's a broad hint, I own it to my shame;
But, madam fairy, you're the most to blame!
How could you be so shockingly unwise
To let that shepherdess my heart surprise?
Why didn't you first shew yourself to me,
And then, perhaps—
(the panel opens and discovers the portrait of a beautiful female, attired as a fairy queen—below is an inscription, “On her love depends your fate.”)
Good gracious! Can that be
Her portrait?
(reading the inscription)
On her love depends my fate!
Thanks for the warning—but it's rather late.
A splendid creature I must needs confess;
If I had never seen my shepherdess.
(the other panel opens and discovers the portrait of the Princess in her shepherdess's dress,—under the portrait is an inscription, “Forget her or she will destroy you.”)
Ha! here she is—just as she was this morning!
And 'neath her portrait there's another warning—
She will destroy me! Well, then I say, let her,
And I'll forgive her; but I can't forget her.
No, though my funeral bier that mischief's brewing,
Like Jaffier, I'm in love and pleased with ruin.
Air—Alidor—“I love her.”
Inside my cottage is as noon-day bright!
The obligation, though, would be still greater,
Were more light thrown on the illuminator.
Is that sweet shepherdess my benefactress?
If so, she is a most consummate actress;
If not, I'm in a deuce of a quandary—
I lose my fair, or I affront my fairy!
Mordicanta touches the wall with her crutch and retires again, and the paintings in the panels change—“Atys” appears frantic, and “Paris” is seen dead.
Ha! To my question comes an answer magical.
Shewing, of these two tales, the turn up tragical.
Where Atys knelt to Cybele, the pompous,
The perjured shepherd now is seen non-compos!
And where Ænone called false Paris master,
Paris lies cold as cast in his own plaster!
Each an immortal beauty's love could slight,
And verdict in both cases, “Serve him right.”
It's a broad hint, I own it to my shame;
But, madam fairy, you're the most to blame!
How could you be so shockingly unwise
To let that shepherdess my heart surprise?
Why didn't you first shew yourself to me,
And then, perhaps—
(the panel opens and discovers the portrait of a beautiful female, attired as a fairy queen—below is an inscription, “On her love depends your fate.”)
Good gracious! Can that be
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On her love depends my fate!
Thanks for the warning—but it's rather late.
A splendid creature I must needs confess;
If I had never seen my shepherdess.
(the other panel opens and discovers the portrait of the Princess in her shepherdess's dress,—under the portrait is an inscription, “Forget her or she will destroy you.”)
Ha! here she is—just as she was this morning!
And 'neath her portrait there's another warning—
She will destroy me! Well, then I say, let her,
And I'll forgive her; but I can't forget her.
No, though my funeral bier that mischief's brewing,
Like Jaffier, I'm in love and pleased with ruin.
I love her—not Sam Lover
Himself how much in words could say;
Nor even Stephen Glover
Set music to them I could play,
'Tis so beyond all measure;
No Manchester Art Treasure
Could give me half such pleasure
As that charmant portrait.
I love her, &c.
(Exit Alidor)
Himself how much in words could say;
Nor even Stephen Glover
Set music to them I could play,
'Tis so beyond all measure;
No Manchester Art Treasure
Could give me half such pleasure
As that charmant portrait.
I love her, &c.
Mor.
(advances)
Curses!
Cupid appears.
Cupid.
You see, old lady, it won't do.
Love's too strong for you.
Mor.
Oh, you viper, you!
Cupid.
The rogue's march now I beat, and you're the marcher;
You're an arch hard, but Cupid is an archer!
Mor.
Were justice known to you, I might demand some.
I am your slave, as much as Young and Handsome,
Why favour her, and make me your derision?
Cupid.
Madam, your passion quite obscures your vision.
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But leave to chance, or fate, their inclination;
The youth you love inclines towards another,
Take my advice, and love him—like a mother.
Mor.
Monster! I see you'll drive me to despair!
Cupid.
Well! you won't be the first I've driven there!
Mor.
You are no gentleman!
Cupid.
I don't pretend to be.
Mor.
When of your tyranny is there an end to be?
Cupid.
When the world ends which love was made to revel in;
And where he is defied to play the devil in!
Mor.
Two can play at that game, as you shall find.
(Exit furiously)
Cupid.
Poor woman! she's gone quite out of her mind!
To mar their bliss she'll do her worst no doubt.
But love will keep for them a bright look out;
Ho! Alidor! awake! a friend to see!
(calling off)
Re-enter Alidor.
Ali.
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Cupid.
'Tis Love's!
Ali.
I thought so, by the tone seraphic!
Cupid.
I bring to you a message telegraphic.
(hands paper)
Ali.
(reading)
“From Young and Handsome to her Alidor!
Hasten forthwith to the Château des Fleurs.”
Yes, “Young and Handsome!” That must be her name!
No mortal has to it a fairer claim!
But where on earth is this divine château?
And which the way to it?
Cupid.
That love will shew.
Ali.
Then please to do it, at a railroad pace!
Annihilate, in short, both time and space,
And make two lovers happy.
Cupid.
I'll my best
Do, to grant your prodigious bold request.
176
Cupid.
Over the land! over the sea!
Swifter than any bird Cupid can flee
Over the land! over the sea!
Going, we shall not be long;
So march! march! march!
In double quick time,
To love's magical rhyme!
March! march! march!
Ye minutes and miles to my song.
Over the land, &c.
Swifter than any bird Cupid can flee
Over the land! over the sea!
Going, we shall not be long;
So march! march! march!
In double quick time,
To love's magical rhyme!
March! march! march!
Ye minutes and miles to my song.
Over the land, &c.
Ali.
Over the land! over the sea!
Sweet Young and Handsome, I'm flying to thee,
Over the land! over the sea!
Somebody's coming ere long!
So march! march! march!
Ye scenes and ye hours,
To the castle of flowers,
March! march! march;
In double quick time to our song.
Sweet Young and Handsome, I'm flying to thee,
Over the land! over the sea!
Somebody's coming ere long!
So march! march! march!
Ye scenes and ye hours,
To the castle of flowers,
March! march! march;
In double quick time to our song.
Both.
Over the land, &c.
| Young and Handsome | |