 | Orpheus and Eurydice ; or, the Wandering Minstrel |  |
The Curtain rises on a fireside group, in a locality which will soon be obvious,
but which there is no occasion to mention by name. Proserpine, setting the
tea things. Pluto, toasting a muffin on the prongs of his fork. Cerberus
asleep on the hearth-rug.
Plu.
My dear, just ring for coals, it's dreadful weather,
Make up the fire, and let's be snug together.
[He proceeds to butter the muffin, which Cerberus smells. Pluto raps him smartly on one of his noses.
Lie down! his hunger does n't seem to stop;
Has n't the dog's-meat man brought round his sop?
A precious night—upon the Stygian dyke
For Charon's boat; 't will founder—wherry like!
The roads in such a state, too—all want paving,
Remind me, dear, (we must n't be too saving,
And cures are more expensive than preventions)—
To order in a load of Good Intentions.
[A knock. Cerberus growls.
Lie down, you whelp. My dear, he's such a snarler,
I wonder you allow him in the parlour.
See who it is.
Pros.
(going to door.)
It's Charon!
Plu.
Ask him in.
[Enter Charon in a pilot coat and glazed hat.
Pros.
Why, I declare he's dripping to the skin.
Cha.
A fare, sir.
Plu.
Male or female?
Cha.
Gal!
Plu.
Admit her.
Cha.
(Calling outside.)
Now then, ma'am.
[Enter Eurydice, carrying a bandbox, umbrella, and pattens.
Plu.
Brother Jove! a splendid critter.
Cha.
Hanythink more, sir?
Plu.
No, you may retire.
Mix him a glass, my love, of liquid fire.
[Exit Charon.
Eur.
This is the place, then! Well, upon my word—
Plu.
Do n't mention it—it's name is never heard.
But may I ask the name of the divinity
Who with her presence honours this vicinity?
Eur.
Why, though I hate impertinent inquisitors,
It's only right that folks should know their visitors.
SONG (Eurydice).
Plu.
Take you away from here! to earth? Get out!
Eur.
I mean to—
Plu.
Bother!
Eur.
You—beyond a doubt;
And that ere long—
Plu.
Stuff! Once within our wickets,
You come to stop. We do n't give pass out tickets.
SONG (Pluto).
(Air.—It's no use knockin' at de door.)
You have just come from town, and it's very plain to me,
You're wholly unacquainted with the sort of thing you'll see.
You may read, above our gate, inscribed in letters clear,
“Of getting out, all hope abandon, ye who enter here.”
And it's no use knocking at the door any more,
It's no use knocking at the door.
CHORUS.
And it's no use knockin', &c.
Eur.
We'll see.
Plu.
Oh yes, we'll see—but, as you're come,
I think you'd better make yourself at home.
So, ere your spouse our bell and knocker wrings off,
Step up with Mrs. P., and take your things off.
CONCERTED.
(Air.—Goin' ober de mountain.)
Eur.
I'll be off, you'll very soon see;
Plu.
Make haste down and have some tea.
Eur.
Soon to hear him say, in accents bold—
Plu.
Well, if you prefer your muffins cold—
Eur.
“Re raw! my true love,
Oh come along my darling!”
(To Pluto)
Much distress'd to leave you,
But do n't let my parting grieve you.
Plu.
(derisively)
Yah! yah! yah! yah! yah!
Yah! yah! yah! yah! you!
Eur.
“Oh, come along from this low place,
I'm going over the mountains.”
CHORUS.
Yah yah! &c.
[Exit Eurydice, escorted by Proserpine, carrying a bedroom
candlestick.
Plu.
What an idea! unheard of, I must say!
Get out of here, indeed; I wish she may.
Yet I must take precautions with the slut,
She seems so sharp; who knows but she might cut.
With bolts and bars I'll make her fast—but steady.
Hang it! the jade seems fast enough already;
And with her tongue's incipient noise and chatter,
To shut her up, appears no easy matter.
Yet I must try; with heavy chains and thick locks,
That shall defy e'en transatlantic picklocks.
[A street organ is heard outside, playing “Jeannette and Jeannot.” Pluto starts, with an agonized expression of countenance. Cerberus growls.
What's that? Good heavens!
[The tune is continued with increased violence.
Help! Be quiet! Mercy!
(Holding his ears.)
He does n't seem inclined to—Vice versy.
Oh dear! (Runs to window.)
Be off!
Orp.
(Outside.)
I shan't.
Plu.
Leave off!
Orp.
I won't.
[The tune increases in loudness; the agony of Pluto in intensity.
Plu.
What's to be done? it's getting louder.
(With a yell of anguish.)
Don't!
Our peace of mind for ever 't will destroy.
Hie Cerberus! Good doggy! At him, boy.
[He opens the door, urging Cerberus to the attack in the usual manner. Orpheus enters, partly dressed as an Italian boy, playing an organ. Cerberus rushes at him growling, but is met boldly by Orpheus, who plays the organ full in his face. Unable to stand the infliction, Cerberus runs away, yelping.
Plu.
I say, move on—or I shall make you.
Orp.
Shall you?
Of peace and quietness I know the value.
Plu.
(Offering him a sixpence,)
Take this and go about your bus'ness.
Orp.
Stuff!
Plu.
Well, here's another—
Orp.
Pshaw! not half enough.
Plu.
I offer'd you a shilling.
Orp.
Yes—you did I see;
But I, Sir, don't move on—under Eurydice.
Plu.
Who art thou slave, whose noise our aching sconce hurts?
Orp.
Professor Orpheus—from the Ancient Concerts.
SONG.
[He follows Pluto round the stage, playing and singing to
the symphony; Pluto holding his ears.
Plu.
I say, let's come to terms.
Orp.
My wife!
Plu.
I can't—
You ask too much; but pray desist—
Orp.
I shan't.
SECOND VERSE.
Orp.
Give me my wife, or else your life you'll find
Like Mantilini's—“One demnition grind.”
Plu.
Never!
Orp.
Then I resume my dulcet strain,
For I can turn—and turn—and turn again.
[Turning the handle.
I'll play a waltz—
Plu.
Oh, heavens! mind your stops;
I hate all dances, though the son of Ops.
[Orpheus plays.
Monstrum horrendum—cease thy painful twingings—
Direst machine of all informe ingens!
Behold me kneeling by your side—who would n't
Kneel e'en by Jupiter's. By Jove! I could n't.
See, I turn suppliant—I—Ammon's brother!
Orp.
For that good turn—I'll treat you with another.
[Grinds.
Plu.
Hold! I give in—'tis useless to rebel.
Orp.
It must be so. Pluto, thou reason'st well.
Plu.
I'll give you up your wife—mine, too—if wanted,
Rather than be by such a nuisance haunted.
Though of concession it's a fearful stretcher—
Orp.
Look sharp, or else—
[Threatens to play.
Plu.
“That strain again!” I'll fetch her.
[Exit precipitately.
Orp.
Come! for subduing wrong, oppression, crimes,
I wield an organ—pow'rful as the Times,
“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,
And soften”—everybody knows the rest.
I question, if the rudest Goth or Vandal,
Could well resist my overtures by Handle.
Pluto! (calling)
I can't stand here all night, you know,
Settle my little claim, and let me go,
Or you shall hear from me without delay—
Plu.
(Running in.)
None of your airs, old fellow—drop it, pray.
Orp.
My wife, then—
Plu.
Here she comes.
Enter Eurydice.
Orp.
My life!
Eur.
My joy!
Orp.
My lost Eurydice!
Eur.
My minstrel boy!
Orp.
Pack up your things!
Plu.
Oh, yes—by all means pack!
Eur.
And have you really come to take me back?
Orp.
(To Pluto.)
She need n't stop?
Plu.
Not e'en to tea or sup;
She's quite a riddle—so I give her up.
Be off about your bus'ness—I entreat,
And pray remove it to some other street.
Orp.
But we must have safe conduct—
Plu.
Baneful stranger!
It's conduct such as yours in which there's danger.
Orp.
(Threatening the organ.)
At once decide—
Plu.
For forms I'm no great stickler—
I hate all rows, and that sort in partic'lar.
Charon!
Enter Charon.
Cha.
Your honour?
Plu.
(Pointing out Orp. and Eur.)
Fares for earth—the trouble
I'll pay you for—
Cha.
Back fares is always double.
Plu.
All right—
Orp.
Come dearest, since it seems we're free—
Plu.
Stop—won't you say good night to Mrs. P.?
N'importe—You've got your wife back, and I'm glad on 't.
(Aside)
Some day I hope and trust he'll wish he had n't.
Orp.
(To audience.)
The pow'r of Music—as I think we've shown
All I require—is, for its length—you'll own
That never was a story of more glee
Than this of Orpheus and Eurydice.
42
My dear, just ring for coals, it's dreadful weather,
Make up the fire, and let's be snug together.
[He proceeds to butter the muffin, which Cerberus smells. Pluto raps him smartly on one of his noses.
Lie down! his hunger does n't seem to stop;
Has n't the dog's-meat man brought round his sop?
A precious night—upon the Stygian dyke
For Charon's boat; 't will founder—wherry like!
The roads in such a state, too—all want paving,
Remind me, dear, (we must n't be too saving,
And cures are more expensive than preventions)—
To order in a load of Good Intentions.
[A knock. Cerberus growls.
Lie down, you whelp. My dear, he's such a snarler,
I wonder you allow him in the parlour.
See who it is.
Pros.
(going to door.)
It's Charon!
43
Ask him in.
[Enter Charon in a pilot coat and glazed hat.
Pros.
Why, I declare he's dripping to the skin.
Cha.
A fare, sir.
Plu.
Male or female?
Cha.
Gal!
Plu.
Admit her.
Cha.
(Calling outside.)
Now then, ma'am.
[Enter Eurydice, carrying a bandbox, umbrella, and pattens.
Plu.
Brother Jove! a splendid critter.
Cha.
Hanythink more, sir?
Plu.
No, you may retire.
Mix him a glass, my love, of liquid fire.
[Exit Charon.
Eur.
This is the place, then! Well, upon my word—
Plu.
Do n't mention it—it's name is never heard.
44
Who with her presence honours this vicinity?
Eur.
Why, though I hate impertinent inquisitors,
It's only right that folks should know their visitors.
SONG (Eurydice).
(Air—Jenny Jones.)
My name 's Eury-dī-ce, excuse the penultimate,
Made long, as the music and metre entails.
My father and mother pronounce it Eur-y̆-dice,
Good truth, that's the way, but the prosody fails.
And indeed o'er all rules, both of grammar and poetry,
Those of sweet music I prize far above,
For, indeed, in my heart, I do love that accomplishment,
And Orpheus, my husband and master, I love.
I started from earth and the vale of my fathers,
As Fate had decreed o'er the Styx I should pass;
But I do n't care two pins for my present predicament,
And I sha n't even say “Woe is me,” or “Alas!”
For my husband has vowed to release and restore me,
To my home, and what's more, to my music, above!
For indeed, in my heart I do love that accomplishment,
And Orpheus, my husband and master, I love.
My name 's Eury-dī-ce, excuse the penultimate,
Made long, as the music and metre entails.
My father and mother pronounce it Eur-y̆-dice,
Good truth, that's the way, but the prosody fails.
And indeed o'er all rules, both of grammar and poetry,
Those of sweet music I prize far above,
For, indeed, in my heart, I do love that accomplishment,
And Orpheus, my husband and master, I love.
45
As Fate had decreed o'er the Styx I should pass;
But I do n't care two pins for my present predicament,
And I sha n't even say “Woe is me,” or “Alas!”
For my husband has vowed to release and restore me,
To my home, and what's more, to my music, above!
For indeed, in my heart I do love that accomplishment,
And Orpheus, my husband and master, I love.
Plu.
Take you away from here! to earth? Get out!
Eur.
I mean to—
Plu.
Bother!
Eur.
You—beyond a doubt;
And that ere long—
Plu.
Stuff! Once within our wickets,
You come to stop. We do n't give pass out tickets.
46
(Air.—It's no use knockin' at de door.)
You have just come from town, and it's very plain to me,
You're wholly unacquainted with the sort of thing you'll see.
You may read, above our gate, inscribed in letters clear,
“Of getting out, all hope abandon, ye who enter here.”
And it's no use knocking at the door any more,
It's no use knocking at the door.
CHORUS.
And it's no use knockin', &c.
Eur.
We'll see.
Plu.
Oh yes, we'll see—but, as you're come,
I think you'd better make yourself at home.
So, ere your spouse our bell and knocker wrings off,
Step up with Mrs. P., and take your things off.
47
(Air.—Goin' ober de mountain.)
Eur.
I'll be off, you'll very soon see;
Plu.
Make haste down and have some tea.
Eur.
Soon to hear him say, in accents bold—
Plu.
Well, if you prefer your muffins cold—
Eur.
“Re raw! my true love,
Oh come along my darling!”
(To Pluto)
Much distress'd to leave you,
But do n't let my parting grieve you.
Plu.
(derisively)
Yah! yah! yah! yah! yah!
Yah! yah! yah! yah! you!
Eur.
“Oh, come along from this low place,
I'm going over the mountains.”
CHORUS.
Yah yah! &c.
48
Plu.
What an idea! unheard of, I must say!
Get out of here, indeed; I wish she may.
Yet I must take precautions with the slut,
She seems so sharp; who knows but she might cut.
With bolts and bars I'll make her fast—but steady.
Hang it! the jade seems fast enough already;
And with her tongue's incipient noise and chatter,
To shut her up, appears no easy matter.
Yet I must try; with heavy chains and thick locks,
That shall defy e'en transatlantic picklocks.
[A street organ is heard outside, playing “Jeannette and Jeannot.” Pluto starts, with an agonized expression of countenance. Cerberus growls.
49
[The tune is continued with increased violence.
Help! Be quiet! Mercy!
(Holding his ears.)
He does n't seem inclined to—Vice versy.
Oh dear! (Runs to window.)
Be off!
Orp.
(Outside.)
I shan't.
Plu.
Leave off!
Orp.
I won't.
[The tune increases in loudness; the agony of Pluto in intensity.
Plu.
What's to be done? it's getting louder.
(With a yell of anguish.)
Don't!
50
Hie Cerberus! Good doggy! At him, boy.
[He opens the door, urging Cerberus to the attack in the usual manner. Orpheus enters, partly dressed as an Italian boy, playing an organ. Cerberus rushes at him growling, but is met boldly by Orpheus, who plays the organ full in his face. Unable to stand the infliction, Cerberus runs away, yelping.
51
I say, move on—or I shall make you.
Orp.
Shall you?
Of peace and quietness I know the value.
Plu.
(Offering him a sixpence,)
Take this and go about your bus'ness.
Orp.
Stuff!
Plu.
Well, here's another—
Orp.
Pshaw! not half enough.
Plu.
I offer'd you a shilling.
Orp.
Yes—you did I see;
But I, Sir, don't move on—under Eurydice.
Plu.
Who art thou slave, whose noise our aching sconce hurts?
Orp.
Professor Orpheus—from the Ancient Concerts.
52
(Orpheus, accompanying himself on the organ.)
Air.—Marble Halls.
The minstrel boy, to Old Scratch, has gone
For his wife in hopes to find her,
The monster organ he has girded on,
Of a wild Italian grinder.
Sound of woe! said the wand'ring bard,
As all the world so fears thee,
E'en Pluto's self—clean off his guard
Will be thrown, when e'er he hears thee.
Air.—Marble Halls.
The minstrel boy, to Old Scratch, has gone
For his wife in hopes to find her,
The monster organ he has girded on,
Of a wild Italian grinder.
Sound of woe! said the wand'ring bard,
As all the world so fears thee,
E'en Pluto's self—clean off his guard
Will be thrown, when e'er he hears thee.
53
Plu.
I say, let's come to terms.
Orp.
My wife!
Plu.
I can't—
You ask too much; but pray desist—
Orp.
I shan't.
54
The minstrel swell—and in language plain,
Declares, if kept asunder
From the spouse he loves, he wont refrain;
For he cannot move on under
The terms just named, which you must allow—
To sink all lies and knavery—
Are cheap as dirt—to suppress this row,
To submit to which is slavery.
Declares, if kept asunder
From the spouse he loves, he wont refrain;
For he cannot move on under
The terms just named, which you must allow—
To sink all lies and knavery—
Are cheap as dirt—to suppress this row,
To submit to which is slavery.
Orp.
Give me my wife, or else your life you'll find
Like Mantilini's—“One demnition grind.”
Plu.
Never!
Orp.
Then I resume my dulcet strain,
For I can turn—and turn—and turn again.
[Turning the handle.
55
Plu.
Oh, heavens! mind your stops;
I hate all dances, though the son of Ops.
[Orpheus plays.
Monstrum horrendum—cease thy painful twingings—
Direst machine of all informe ingens!
Behold me kneeling by your side—who would n't
Kneel e'en by Jupiter's. By Jove! I could n't.
See, I turn suppliant—I—Ammon's brother!
Orp.
For that good turn—I'll treat you with another.
[Grinds.
Plu.
Hold! I give in—'tis useless to rebel.
Orp.
It must be so. Pluto, thou reason'st well.
56
I'll give you up your wife—mine, too—if wanted,
Rather than be by such a nuisance haunted.
Though of concession it's a fearful stretcher—
Orp.
Look sharp, or else—
[Threatens to play.
Plu.
“That strain again!” I'll fetch her.
[Exit precipitately.
Orp.
Come! for subduing wrong, oppression, crimes,
I wield an organ—pow'rful as the Times,
“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,
And soften”—everybody knows the rest.
I question, if the rudest Goth or Vandal,
Could well resist my overtures by Handle.
Pluto! (calling)
I can't stand here all night, you know,
Settle my little claim, and let me go,
57
Plu.
(Running in.)
None of your airs, old fellow—drop it, pray.
Orp.
My wife, then—
Plu.
Here she comes.
Enter Eurydice.
Orp.
My life!
Eur.
My joy!
Orp.
My lost Eurydice!
Eur.
My minstrel boy!
Orp.
Pack up your things!
Plu.
Oh, yes—by all means pack!
Eur.
And have you really come to take me back?
Orp.
(To Pluto.)
She need n't stop?
Plu.
Not e'en to tea or sup;
She's quite a riddle—so I give her up.
58
And pray remove it to some other street.
Orp.
But we must have safe conduct—
Plu.
Baneful stranger!
It's conduct such as yours in which there's danger.
Orp.
(Threatening the organ.)
At once decide—
Plu.
For forms I'm no great stickler—
I hate all rows, and that sort in partic'lar.
Charon!
Enter Charon.
Cha.
Your honour?
Plu.
(Pointing out Orp. and Eur.)
Fares for earth—the trouble
I'll pay you for—
Cha.
Back fares is always double.
59
All right—
Orp.
Come dearest, since it seems we're free—
Plu.
Stop—won't you say good night to Mrs. P.?
N'importe—You've got your wife back, and I'm glad on 't.
(Aside)
Some day I hope and trust he'll wish he had n't.
Orp.
(To audience.)
The pow'r of Music—as I think we've shown
All I require—is, for its length—you'll own
That never was a story of more glee
Than this of Orpheus and Eurydice.
The necessary “make-up” of this gentleman may at first dishearten amateur managers, let them be never so enterprising, by its apparent impracticability. It can, however, be easily accomplished. Papier Maché casts of countenance, of a decidedly canine aspect, may be purchased at any toy shop; and as even two heads are better than one, the effect of a head-dress composed of three, may be imagined. With a little attention to the appropriate action, this character, in the hands of any very young gentleman of active habits, may be made a very funny dog indeed.
| Orpheus and Eurydice ; or, the Wandering Minstrel | |