 | Thespis ; Or, The Gods Grown Old |  |
ACT I.
Scene.—The ruins of The Temple of the Gods on summit of Mount Olympus. Picturesque shattered columns, overgrown with ivy, etc., R. and L., with entrances to temple (ruined) R. Fallen columns on the stage. Three broken pillars 2 R. E. At the back of stage is the approach from the summit of the mountain. This should be “practicable” to enable large numbers of people to ascend and descend. In the distance are the summits of adjacent mountains. At first all this is concealed by a thick fog, which clears presently. Enter (through fog) Chorus of Stars coming off duty, as fatigued with their night's work.Throughout the night
The constellations
Have given light
From various stations.
When midnight gloom
Falls on all nations,
We will resume
Our occupations.
Solo.
Our light, it's true,
Is not worth mention;
What can we do
To gain attention,
When, night and noon,
With vulgar glaring,
A great big Moon
Is always flaring?
Chorus.
Throughout the night, &c.
Dia.
(shuddering).
Ugh! How cold the nights are! I
don't know how it is, but I seem to feel the night air a great
deal more than I used to. But it is time for the sun to be
rising.
(Calls.)
Apollo.
Ap.
(within).
Hollo!
Dia.
I've come off duty—it's time for you to be getting
up.
Enter Apollo. He is an elderly “buck” with an air of assumed juvenility, and is dressed in dressing gown and smoking cap.
Ap.
(yawning).
I shan't go out to-day. I was out yesterday
and the day before and I want a little rest. I don't know
how it is, but I seem to feel my work a great deal more than
I used to.
Dia.
I'm sure these short days can't hurt you. Why, you
don't rise till six and you're in bed again by five: you should
have a turn at my work and see how you like that—out all
night!
Ap.
My dear sister, I don't envy you—though I remember
when I did—but that was when I was a younger sun I don't
think I'm quite well. Perhaps a little change of air will do
me good. I've a great mind to show myself in London this
winter, they'll be very glad to see me. No! I shan't go out
to-day. I shall send them this fine, thick wholesome fog and
they won't miss me. It's the best substitute for a blazing sun
—and like most substitutes, nothing at all like the real thing.
(To fog.)
Be off with you.
[Fog clears away and discovers the scene described.
Hurried Music. Mercury shoots up from behind precipice at back of stage. He carries several parcels afterwards described. He sits down, very much fatigued.
Mer.
Home at last! A nice time I've had of it.
Dia.
You young scamp you've been down all night again.
This is the third time you've been out this week.
Mer.
Well you're a nice one to blow me up for that.
Dia.
I can't help being out all night.
Mer.
And I can't help being down all night. The nature of
and rise again, when the sun rises.
Dia.
And what have you been doing?
Mer.
Stealing on commission. There's a set of false teeth
and a box of Life Pills—that's for Jupiter—An invisible peruke
and a bottle of hair dye—that's for Apollo—A respirator and a
pair of goloshes—that's for Cupid—A full bottomed chignon,
some auricomous fluid, a box of pearl-powder, a pot of rouge,
and a hare's foot—that's for Venus.
Dia.
Stealing! you ought to be ashamed of yourself!
Mer.
Oh, as the god of thieves I must do something to justify
my position.
Dia. and Ap.
(contemptuously).
Your position!
Mer.
Oh I know it's nothing to boast of, even on earth. Up
here, it's simply contemptible. Now that you gods are too old
for your work, you've made me the miserable drudge of
Olympus—groom, valet, postman, butler, commissionaire, maid
of all work, parish beadle, and original dustman.
Ap.
Your Christmas boxes ought to be something considerable.
Mer.
They ought to be but they're not. I'm treated abominably.
I make everybody and I'm nobody—I go everywhere
and I'm nowhere—I do everything and I'm nothing. I've made
thunder for Jupiter, odes for Apollo, battles for Mars, and love
for Venus. I've married couples for Hymen, and six weeks
afterwards, I've divorced them for Cupid—and in return I get
all the kicks while they pocket the halfpence. And in compensation
for robbing me of the halfpence in question, what
have they done for me?
Ap.
Why they've—ha! ha! they've made you the god of
thieves!
Mer.
Very self-denying of them—there isn't one of them
who hasn't a better claim to the distinction than I have.
From morning to night I must stop at it,
On errands all day I must trudge,
And I stick to my work till I drop at it!
In summer I get up at one
(As a good-natured donkey I'm ranked for it),
Then I go and I light up the Sun,
And Phœbus Apollo gets thanked for it!
Well, well, it's the way of the world,
And will be through all its futurity;
Though noodles are baroned and earled,
There's nothing for clever obscurity!
And I'm bound to obey, though I rate at 'em;
And I not only order their meals,
But I cook 'em, and serve 'em, and wait at 'em.
Then I make all their nectar—I do—
(Which a terrible liquor to rack us is)
And whenever I mix them a brew,
Why all the thanksgivings are Bacchus's!
Well, well, it's the way of the world, &c.
And spelling-books many I've edited!
And for bringing those arts within reach,
That donkey Minerva gets credited.
Then I scrape at the stars with a knife,
And plate-powder the moon (on the days for it),
And I hear all the world and his wife
Awarding Diana the praise for it!
Well, well, it's the way of the world, &c.
[After song—very loud and majestic music is heard.
Dia. and Mer.
(looking off).
Why, who's this? Jupiter, by
Jove!
Enter Jupiter, an extremely old man, very decrepit, with very thin straggling white beard, he wears a long braided dressing-gown, handsomely trimmed, and a silk night-cap on his head. Mercury falls back respectfully as he enters.
Jup.
Good day, Diana—ah Apollo—Well, well, well, what's
the matter? what's the matter?
Dia.
Why, that young scamp Mercury says that we do
nothing, and leave all the duties of Olympus to him! Will you
believe it, he actually says that our influence on earth is
dropping down to nil.
Jup.
Well, well—don't be hard on the lad—to tell you the
truth, I'm not sure that he's very far wrong. Don't let it go
any further, but, between ourselves, the sacrifices and votive
offerings have fallen off terribly of late. Why, I can remember
the time when people offered us human sacrifices—no mistake
about it—human sacrifices! think of that!
Dia.
Ah! those good old days!
Jup.
Then it fell off to oxen, pigs, and sheep.
Ap.
Well, there are worse things than oxen, pigs, and sheep.
Jup.
So, I've found to my cost. My dear sir—between ourselves,
it's dropped off from one thing to another until it has
positively dwindled down to preserved Australian beef! What
do you think of that?
Ap.
I don't like it at all.
You won't mention it—it might go further—
Dia.
It couldn't fare worse.
Jup.
In short, matters have come to such a crisis that there's
no mistake about it—something must be done to restore our
influence, the only question is, What?
Quartette.
Mer.
(coming forward in great alarm).
Enter Mars.
Oh incident unprecedented!
I hardly can believe it's true!
Mars.
Why, bless the boy, he's quite demented!
Why, what's the matter, sir, with you?
Ap.
Speak quickly, or you'll get a warming!
Mer.
Why, mortals up the mount are swarming,
Our temple on Olympus storming,
In hundreds—aye in thousands, too!
All.
Goodness gracious,
How audacious;
Earth is spacious,
Why come here?
Our impeding
Their proceeding
Were good breeding,
That is clear.
Dia.
Jupiter, hear my plea;
Upon the mount if they light,
There'll be an end of me,
I won't be seen by daylight!
Ap.
Tartarus is the place
These scoundrels you should send to—
Should they behold my face
My influence there's an end to!
Jup.
(looking over precipice).
What fools to give themselves so much exertion!
Dia.
(looking over precipice).
A government survey I'll make assertion!
Ap.
(looking over precipice).
Perhaps the Alpine club at their diversion!
Mer.
(looking over precipice).
They seem to be more like a “Cook's Excursion.”
All.
Goodness gracious, etc.
Ap.
If, mighty Jove, you value your existence,
Send them a thunderbolt with your regards!
Jup.
My thunderbolts, though valid at a distance,
Are not effective at a hundred yards.
Mer.
Let the moon's rays, Diana, strike 'em flighty,
Make 'em all lunatics in various styles!
Dia.
My Lunar rays unhappily are mighty
Only at many hundred thousand miles.
All.
Goodness gracious, etc.
[Exeunt Jupiter, Apollo, Diana, and Mercury into ruined temple.
Spark.
Here we are at last on the very summit, and we've
left the others ever so far behind! Why, what's this?
Nice.
A ruined palace! A palace on the top of a mountain.
I wonder who lives here? Some mighty king, I dare say,
with wealth beyond all counting, who came to live up
here—
Sp.
To avoid his creditors! It's a lovely situation for a
country house, though it's very much out of repair.
Nice.
Very inconvenient situation
Sp.
Inconvenient?
Nice.
Yes—how are you to get butter, milk, and eggs up
here? No pigs—no poultry—no postman. Why, I should go
mad.
Sp.
What a dear little practical mind it is! What a wife
you will make!
Nice.
Don't be too sure—we are only partly married—the
marriage ceremony lasts all day.
Sp.
I've no doubt at all about it. We shall be as happy as
a king and queen, though we are only a strolling actor and
actress.
Nice.
It's very kind of Thespis to celebrate our marriage day
by giving the company a pic-nic on this lovely mountain.
Sp.
And still more kind to allow us to get so much ahead of
all the others. Discreet Thespis!
[Kissing her.
Nice.
There now, get away, do! Remember the marriage
ceremony is not yet completed.
Sp.
But it would be ungrateful to Thespis's discretion not to
take advantage of it by improving the opportunity.
Nice.
Certainly not; get away.
Sp.
On second thoughts the opportunity's so good it don't
admit of improvement. There!
[Kisses her.
Nice.
How dare you kiss me before we are quite married?
Sp.
Attribute it to the intoxicating influence of the mountain
air.
Nice.
Then we had better go down again. It is not right to
expose ourselves to influences over which we have no control.
Duet.—Sparkeion and Nicemis.
Sp.
Here far away from all the world,
Dissension and derision,
With Nature's wonders all unfurled
To our delighted vision,
(At least in sight)
To interfere
With our delight,
And two fond lovers sever,
Oh do not free,
Thine hand from mine,
I swear to thee
My love is thine,
For ever and for ever!
Nice.
On mountain top the air is keen,
And most exhilarating,
And we say things we do not mean
In moments less elating.
So please to wait,
For thoughts that crop,
En tête-à-tête,
On mountain top,
May not exactly tally
With those that you
May entertain,
Returning to
The sober plain
Of yon relaxing valley.
Sp.
Very well—if you won't have anything to say to me, I
know who will.
Nice.
Who will?
Sp.
Daphne will.
Nice.
Daphne would flirt with anybody.
Sp.
Anybody would flirt with Daphne. She is quite as
pretty as you and has twice as much back-hair.
Nice.
She has twice as much money, which may account
for it.
Sp.
At all events, she has appreciation. She likes good looks.
Nice.
We all like what we haven't got.
Sp.
She keeps her eyes open.
Nice.
Yes—one of them.
Sp.
Which one?
Nice.
The one she doesn't wink with.
Sp.
Well, I was engaged to her for six months and if she
still makes eyes at me, you must attribute it to force of habit.
Besides—remember—we are only half-married at present.
Nice.
I suppose you mean that you are going to treat me as
shamefully as you treated her. Very well, break it off if you
like. I shall not offer any objection. Thespis used to be very
attentive to me, and I'd just as soon be a manager's wife as
a fifth-rate actor's!
Chorus
—(with dance).
Climbing over rocky mountain,
Skipping rivulet and fountain,
Passing where the willows quiver,
By the ever rolling river,
Swollen with the summer rain.
Threading long and leafy mazes,
Dotted with unnumbered daisies,
Scaling rough and rugged passes,
Climb the hardy lads and lasses,
Till the mountain-top they gain.
First Voice.
Fill the cup and tread the measure,
Make the most of fleeting leisure,
Hail it as a true ally,
Though it perish bye and bye!
Second Voice.
Every moment brings a treasure
Of its own especial pleasure,
Though the moments quickly die,
Greet them gaily as they fly!
Third Voice.
Far away from grief and care,
High up in the mountain air,
Let us live and reign alone,
In a world that's all our own.
Fourth Voice.
Here enthroned in the sky,
Far away from mortal eye,
We'll be gods and make decrees,
Those may honour them who please.
Chorus.
Fill the cup and tread the measure, etc.
After Chorus and Couplets enter Thespis climbing over rocks.
Thes.
Bless you, my people, bless you. Let the revels commence.
After all, for thorough, unconstrained unconventional
enjoyment give me a pic-nic.
Prep.
(very gloomily).
Give him a pic-nic somebody!
Thes.
Be quiet Preposteros—don't interrupt.
Prep.
Ha! ha! shut up again! But no matter.
[Stupidas endeavours, in pantomime, to reconcile him. Throughout the scene Prep. shows symptoms of breaking out into a furious passion, and Stupidas does all he can to pacify and restrain him.
Thes.
The best of a pic-nic is that everybody contributes
what he pleases, and nobody knows what anybody else has
let's see what there is for everybody.
Nice.
I have brought you—a bottle of soda water—for the
claret-cup.
Daph.
I have brought you—a lettuce for the lobster salad.
Sp.
A piece of ice—for the claret-cup.
Prett.
A bottle of vinegar—for the lobster-salad.
Cymon.
A bunch of burrage for the claret-cup!
Tips.
A hard-boiled egg—for the lobster salad!
Stup.
One lump of sugar for the claret-cup!
Prep.
He has brought one lump of sugar for the claret-cup?
Ha! ha! ha!
Stup.
[Laughing melodramatically.
Well, Preposteros, and what have you brought?
Prep.
I have brought two lumps of the very best salt for the
lobster salad.
Thes.
Oh—is that all?
Prep.
All! Ha! Ha! He asks if it is all!
[Stupidas consoles him.
Thes.
But, I say—this is capital so far as it goes—nothing
could be better, but it doesn't go far enough. The claret, for
instance! I don't insist on claret—or a lobster—I don't insist
on lobster, but a lobster salad without a lobster, why, it isn't
lobster salad. Here, Tipseion!
Tipseion
(a very drunken bloated fellow, dressed, however, with scrupulous accuracy and wearing a large medal round his neck).
My Master?
[Falls on his knees to Thes. and kisses his robe.
Thes.
Get up—don't be a fool. Where's the claret? We
arranged last week that you were to see to that?
Tips.
True, dear master. But then I was a drunkard!
Thes.
You were.
Tips.
You engaged me to play convivial parts on the strength
of my personal appearance.
Thes.
I did.
Tips.
You then found that my habits interfered with my
duties as low comedian.
Thes.
True—
Tips.
You said yesterday that unless I took the pledge you
would dismiss me from your company.
Thes.
Quite so.
Tips.
Good. I have taken it. It is all I have taken since
yesterday. My preserver!
[Embraces him.
Thes.
Yes, but where's the wine?
Tips.
I left it behind, that I might not be tempted to violate
my pledge.
Minion!
[Attempts to get at him, is restrained by Stupidas.
Thes.
Now, Preposteros, what is the matter with you?
Prep.
It is enough that I am down-trodden in my profession.
I will not submit to imposition out of it. It is
enough that as your heavy villain I get the worst of it every
night in a combat of six. I will not submit to insult in the
day time. I have come out, ha! ha! to enjoy myself!
Thes.
But look here, you know—virtue only triumphs at
night from seven to ten—vice gets the best of it during the
other twenty-three hours. Won't that satisfy you?
[Stupidas endeavours to pacify him.
Prep.
(irritated to Stup.).
Ye are odious to my sight! get
out of it!
Stup.
(in great terror).
What have I done?
Thes.
Now what is it, Preposteros, what is it?
Prep.
I a—hate him and would have his life!
Thes.
(to Stup.).
That's it—he hates you and would have
your life. Now go and be merry.
Stup.
Yes, but why does he hate me?
Thes.
Oh—exactly.
(To Prep.)
Why do you hate him?
Prep.
Because he is a minion!
Thes.
He hates you because you are a minion. It explains
itself. Now go and enjoy yourselves. Ha! ha! It is well for
those who can laugh—let them do so—there is no extra charge.
The light-hearted cup and the convivial jest for them—but for
me—what is there for me?
Sillimon.
There is some claret cup and lobster salad.
[Handing some.
Thes.
(taking it).
Thank you.
(Resuming.)
What is there
for me but anxiety—ceaseless gnawing anxiety that tears at my
very vitals and rends my peace of mind asunder? There is
nothing whatever for me but anxiety of the nature I have just
described. The charge of these thoughtless revellers is my
unhappy lot. It is not a small charge, and it is rightly termed
a lot, because they are many. Oh why did the gods make me
a manager?
Sill.
(as guessing a riddle).
Why did the gods make him a
manager?
Sp.
Why did the gods make him a manager?
Dap.
Why did the gods make him a manager?
Prett.
Why did the gods make him a manager?
Thes.
No—no—what are you talking about? what do you
mean?
Dap.
I've got it—don't tell us—
No—no—because—because—
Thes.
(annoyed).
It isn't a conundrum—it's a misanthropical
question. Why cannot I join you?
[Retires up centre.
Dap.
(who is sitting with Sparkeion to the annogance of Nicemis who is crying alone).
I'm sure I don't know. We do
not want you. Don't distress yourself on our account—we
are getting on very comfortably—aren't we, Sparkeion?
Spar.
We are so happy that we don't miss the lobster or the
claret. What are lobster and claret compared with the society
of those we love?
[Embracing Daphne.
Dap.
Why, Nicemis, love, you are eating nothing. Aren't
you happy, dear?
Nice.
(spitefully).
You are quite welcome to my share of
everything. I intend to console myself with the society of my
manager.
[Takes Thespsis' arm affectionately.
Thes.
Here I say—this won't do, you know—I can't allow it
—at least before my company—besides, you are half married
to Sparkeion, Sparkeion, here's your half-wife impairing my
influence before my company. Don't you know the story of the
gentleman who undermined his influence by associating with
his inferiors?
All.
Yes, yes,—we know it.
Prep.
(furiously).
I do not know it! It's ever thus!
Doomed to disappointment from my earliest years—
[Stupidas endeavours to console him.
Thes.
There—that's enough. Preposteros—you shall hear it.
On the North South East West Diddlesex junction,
He was conspicuous exceeding,
For his affable ways and his easy breeding.
Although a Chairman of Directors,
He was hand in glove with the ticket inspectors,
He tipped the guards with bran-new fivers,
And sang little songs to the engine drivers.
'Twas told to me with great compunction,
By one who had discharged with unction,
A Chairman of Directors function,
On the North South East West Diddlesex junction.
Fol diddle, lol diddle, lol lol lay.
A silver shovel and a golden poker,
He'd button-hole flowers for the ticket sorters,
And rich Bath-buns for the outside porters.
And he built little villas for the road-side shunters,
And if any were fond of pigeon shooting.
He'd ask them down to his place at Tooting.
'Twas told to me, etc.
That he did all this from a sense of humour,
So instead of signalling and stoking,
They gave themselves up to a course of joking.
Whenever they knew that he was riding,
They shunted his train on lonely siding,
Or stopped all night in the middle of a tunnel,
On the plea that the boiler was a-coming through the funnel.
'Twas told to me, etc.
His train through several counties whirling,
Would set him down in a fit of larking,
At four a. m. in the wilds of Barking.
This pleased his whim and seemed to strike it,
But the general Public did not like it,
The receipts fell, after a few repeatings,
And he got it hot at the annual meetings,
'Twas told to me, etc.
The shares went down to a nominal figure,
These are the sad results proceeding
From his affable ways and his easy breeding!
The line, with its rails and guards and peelers,
Was sold for a song to marine store dealers,
The shareholders are all in the work'us,
And he sells pipe-lights in the Regent Circus.
'Twas told to me with much compunction,
By one who had discharged with unction
A Chairman of Director's function,
On the North South East West Diddlesex junction,
Fol diddle lol diddle lol lol lay!
[After song.
Thes.
It's very hard. As a man I am naturally of an easy
disposition. As a manager, I am compelled to hold myself
aloof, that my influence may not be deteriorated. As a man, I
am inclined to fraternize with the pauper—as a manager I am
compelled to walk about like this: Don't know yah! Don't
know yah! Don't know yah!
[Strides haughtily about the stage. Jupiter, Mars and Apollo, in full Olympian costume appear on the three broken columns. Thespians scream.
Jupiter, Mars and Apollo
(in recit.).
Presumptuous mortal!
Thes.
(same business).
Don't know yah! Don't know yah!
(seated on three broken pillars, still in recit.).
Presumptuous mortal!
Thes.
I do not know you, I do not know you.
Jup., Mars and Apollo
(standing on ground, recit.)
Presumptuous mortal!
Thes.
(recit.).
Remove this person.
[Stup. and Prep. seize Apoll. and Mars.
Jup.
(speaking).
Stop, you evidently don't know me. Allow
me to offer you my card.
[Throws flash paper.
Thes.
Ah yes, it's very pretty, but we don't want any at
present. When we do our Christmas piece I'll let you know.
(Changing his manner.)
Look here, you know, this is a
private party and we haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance.
There are a good many other mountains about, if you must have
a mountain all to yourself. Don't make me let myself down
before my company.
(Resuming.)
Don't know yah! Don't
know yah!
Jup.
I am Jupiter, the King of the Gods. This is Apollo.
This is Mars.
[All kneel to them except Thespis.
Thes.
Oh! then as I'm a respectable man, and rather particular
about the company I keep, I think I'll go.
Jup.
No—no—stop a bit. We want to consult you on a
matter of great importance. There! Now we are alone. Who
are you?
Thes.
I am Thespis of the Thessalian Theatres.
Jup.
The very man we want. Now as a judge of what the
public likes, are you impressed with my appearance as the
father of the gods?
Thes.
Well to be candid with you, I am not. In fact I'm
disappointed.
Jup.
Disappointed?
Thes.
Yes, you see you're so much out of repair. No, you
don't come up to my idea of the part. Bless you, I've played
you often.
Jup.
You have!
Thes.
To be sure I have.
Jup.
And how have you dressed the part?
Thes.
Fine commanding party in the prime of life. Thunderbolt
—full beard—dignified manner—A good deal of this sort
of thing “Don't know yah! Don't know yah! don't know
yah!”
[Imitating, crosses L.
Jup.
(much affected).
I—I'm very much obliged to you. It's
very good of you. I—I—I used to be like that. I can't tell
you how much I feel it. And do you find I'm an impressive
character to play?
Well no, I can't say you are. In fact we don't use you
much out of burlesque.
Jup.
Burlesque!
[Offended, walks up.
Thes.
Yes, it's a painful subject, drop it, drop it. The fact is,
you are not the gods you were—you're behind your age.
Jup.
Well, but what are we to do? We feel that we ought
to do something, but we don't know what.
Thes.
Why don't you all go down to Earth, incog., mingle
with the world, hear and see what people think of you, and
judge for yourselves as to the best means to take to restore your
influence?
Jup.
Ah, but what's to become of Olympus in the meantime?
Thes.
Lor bless you, don't distress yourself about that. I've
a very good company, used to take long parts on the shortest
notice. Invest us with your powers and we'll fill your places
till you return.
Jup.
(aside).
The offer is tempting. But suppose you fail?
Thes.
Fail! Oh, we never fail in our profession. We've
nothing but great successes!
Jup.
Then it's a bargain?
Thes.
It's a bargain.
[They shake hands on it.
Jup.
And that you may not be entirely without assistance,
we will leave you Mercury, and whenever you find yourself in
a difficulty you can consult him.
Enter Mercury (trap C.)
Quartette.
Jup.
So that's arranged—you take my place, my boy,
While we make trial of a new existence.
At length I shall be able to enjoy
The pleasures I have envied from a distance.
Mer.
Compelled upon Olympus here to stop,
While other gods go down to play the hero,
Don't be surprised if on this mountain top
You find your Mercury is down at zero!
Ap.
To earth away to join in mortal acts,
And gather fresh materials to write on,
Investigate more closely several facts,
That I for centuries have thrown some light on!
Dian.
I, as the modest moon with crescent bow,
Have always shown a light to nightly scandal,
I must say I should like to go below,
And find out if the game is worth the candle!
Mer.
Here come your people!
Thes.
People better now!
Air.—Thespis.
While mighty Jove goes down below
With all the other deities,
I fill his place and wear his “clo,”
The very part for me it is.
To mother earth to make a track,
They all are spurred and booted, too,
And you will fill, till they come back,
The parts you best are suited to.
Chorus.
Here's a pretty tale for future Iliads and Odyssies,
Mortals are about to personate the gods and goddesses.
Now to set the world in order, we will work in unity,
Jupiter's perplexity is Thespis's opportunity.
Solo.—Sparkeion.
Phœbus am I, with golden ray,
The god of day, the god of day,
When shadowy night has held her sway,
I make the goddess fly.
'Tis mine the task to wake the world,
In slumber curled, in slumber curled,
By me her charms are all unfurled,
The god of day am I!
Chorus.
The god of day, the god of day,
That part shall our Sparkeion play.
Ha! ha! &c.
The rarest fun and rarest fare,
That ever fell to mortal share!
Ha! ha! &c.
Solo.—Nicemis.
I am the moon, the lamp of night.
I show a light—I show a light.
With radiant sheen I put to flight
The shadows of the sky.
By my fair rays, as you're aware,
Gay lovers swear—gay lovers swear,
While greybeards sleep away their care,
The lamp of night am I!
Chorus.
The lamp of night—the lamp of night,
Nicemis plays, to her delight.
Ha! ha! ha! ha!
The rarest fun and rarest fare,
That ever fell to mortal share.
Ha! ha! ha! ha!
Mighty old Mars, the God of War,
I'm destined for—I'm destined for—
A terribly famous conqueror,
With sword upon his thigh.
When armies meet with eager shout,
And warlike rout, and warlike rout,
You'll find me there without a doubt.
The God of War am I!
Chorus.
The God of War, the God of War.
Great Timidon is destined for!
Ha! ha! ha! ha!
The rarest fun and rarest fare,
That ever fell to mortal share.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! &c.
Solo.—Daphne.
When, as the fruit of warlike deeds,
The soldier bleeds, the soldier bleeds,
Calliope crowns heroic deeds,
With immortality.
From mere oblivion I reclaim
The soldier's name, the soldier's name,
And write it on the roll of fame,
The muse of fame am I!
Chorus.
The muse of fame, the muse of fame,
Calliope is Daphne's name,
Ha! ha! ha! ha!
The rarest fun and rarest fare,
That ever fell to mortal share!
Ha! ha! ha! ha!
Tutti.
Here's a pretty tale!
Enter procession of old Gods, they come down very much astonished at all they see, then passing by, ascend the platform that leads to the descent at the back.
Gods (Jup., Dia., and Apollo) in corner are together.
We will go,
Down below,
Revels rare,
We will share.
Ha! ha! ha!
With a gay
Holiday,
All unknown,
And alone.
Ha! ha! ha!
Tutti.
Here's a pretty tale!
[The Gods, including those who have lately entered in procession, group themselves on rising ground at back. The Thespians (kneeling) bid them farewell.
| Thespis ; Or, The Gods Grown Old | |