University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—The Temple of Irminsul, prepared for a Fancy Fair. Stalls erected between the uprights of Druidic temple. Roman Soldiers and Priestesses discovered—the latter endeavouring, but in vain, to sell the usual trinkets.
Bellina
(to Ingonda.)
Well, are you doing business at your stall?

Ing.
Business? I can't sell anything at all!
Although all day the fair I walk about it!
(to Arm.)
How are you doing?

Arm.
Doing? oh, don't talk about it!
The whole affair's a failure—that's quite clear.
They all complain that everything's so dear!

Enter Clotilda.
Clo.
The fair a failure? Oh, dear, not at all,
I've taken several shillings at my stall.

Arm.
(spitefully.)
Some people have such very taking ways!

Ing.
Some people have such fascinating traits!

Bel.
Some people are so bold-faced, I observe.

Arm.
Some people have such great command of nerve.

Bel.
Some people have such eyes, with which to hint.

Ing.
Some people use them!

Clo.
(spitefully to Ingonda.)
And some people squint!

(Enter Oroveso with basket containing articles for sale. Soldiers and Priestesses gather round him.)
Oro.
Come buy! buy! buy!—You're all too slow by half!
Who bids for Oroveso's photograph?
(holding up photograph.)
These strawberries ought really to go down.
I kiss them (hisses them)
, and they're yours for half-a-crown!
(Soldiers decline to buy them.)
They don't like strawberries in Cæsar's ranks!
(to a Soldier)
A portrait of Finette, my boy!

Soldier.
No, thanks!
I'm going to be married soon, old chap!

Oro.
Indeed? Allow me!

Sold.
What?

Oro.
A baby's cap! (producing one)

A bib—a rattle—or a caudle cup.
Try a perambulator (Soldier hits him impatiently in the stomach)
—doubled up!
(aside to Clo.)
I'm getting up a raffle—here's the list—

Clo.
For what?

Oro.
A piece of plate—that don't exist!

Clo.
A curious way true charity to kindle!

Oro.
A pious fraud, my dear—a holy swindle.
The secret's safe—enquiries cannot baffle it,
When once it's raffled—why you can't unraffle it.
Here are some curious autographs I've written.
Here's Presto John—the King of Little Britain—
Baron Munchausen—Mr. Justice Byles—
Moses and Aaron—Shakespeare, several styles—
The celebrated judgment signed by Paris—
Bombastes Furioso—Mrs. Harris—

Clo.
And are they genuine?

Oro.
Not that I'm aware.

Arm.
You call that fair?

Oro.
I call it Fancy Fair.

Clo.
A slur on charity I'm much afraid.

Enter Pollio.
Pol.
No—Charity's a shy retiring maid,
Who, fearing folks may give her too much laud,
Parades in Fancy Fairs disguised as Fraud.
But stay, my message hasn't yet been told,
The banquet's waiting—and it's getting cold.
And after that, to keep the game alive,
A Roman will be burnt to death at five.

All.
A Roman!

Pol.
Flavius—sentenced to the tomb
For being found in Adalgisa's room.

Clo.
Found in her room? Ere charge like this you trump any,
Reflect—he p'raps preferred it to her company!

(All laugh.)
Pol.
To bring a charge like this I'm always loth—
Unfortunately he was found in both!

Oro.
Now to the mystic sucking pig draw near,
Uncork the sacerdotal ginger beer!
Incomprehensible rice pudding try!
Attack the sacrificial rump-steak pie!
The Fancy Fair accounts there's none to question.
Let all be revelry—and indigestion.

(Exeunt all except Pollio.)
Enter Adalgisa, L.
Pol.
My Adalgisa? This, indeed, is kind!

Adal.
You here, you wretch?

Pol.
I'm really pained to find
That evidently there is something wrong with you.
Are you not well, my love?

Adal.
Oh, go along with you,
You bold, bad man!

Pol.
Why bless us what a shine!
Come place that tiny little hand in mine.

Adal.
Never again my hand shall there be placed
And don't attempt to take me round the waist,
For Adalgisa's anger you will rouse so—
Are you not Norma's spouse?

Pol.
Well, yes, I spouse so,
But she don't count.

Adal.
Oh, don't she!

Pol.
Not a jot—
She is a Druidess, and—I am not.
That trifling fact, by hap or by intention,
When I was married I forgot to mention.
And so our courts—although she'll be annoyed—
Will probably pronounce the marriage void.
But more of this anon—those rolling drums
Inform me that the culprit Flavius comes.

(Music. Procession enters, with Flavius bound, headed by Oroveso.)
Oro.
Here at the fatal stake we take our stand;
If you have any favour to demand,
To grant that favour we will freely strive.

Fla.
I have—I'd rather not be burnt alive!

(Howls.)
Oro.
Come, come, be cool.

Fla.
How can you ask me, pray,
To take it coolly on a broiling day?
These preparations I can't bear the sight of.
That dreadful pile!

Oro.
A matter to make light of.
Ascend the pile.

Enter Norma.—Chord.
Nor.
Stop! I've a word to say—
As burnings seem the order of the day,
Please tell me what our laws would make you do
If I could point you out a priestess, who,
Neglecting her irrevocable vows,
Had sworn to take a Roman for a spouse?

(Looking sternly at Adalgisa.)
Adal.
(aside to Norma.)
Oh, mercy, Norma—let thine hand be stayed!

Nor.
Say, what would happen?

Oro.
Why, the perjured maid
Would then be punished as our laws require.
We'd strike the martial gong, and bang the liar.
Her name!

Nor.
Her name? her name is—Norma!

Oro.
Eh!

Nor.
Norma, the wife of Pollio!

Pol.
Come, I say!

Nor.
No use—the fact I haven't over-stated,
Thus Pollio's course is checked!

Pol.
Yes—checked and mated!

(Concerted piece.)
Duet—Norma and Pollio.
(Air—Gounod's “Berceuse.”)
Nor.
Oh farewell, oh farewell all the friends—
Friends of my youth!
I've deceived you to compass my ends,
Oh, cruel truth!
And if fair Adalgisa you wed,
As you probably may,
Oh, my love, my love remember
For her I die to-day!
Good bye—good bye, for ever,
For evermore—
For ever—for ever—for evermore!

Pol.
I confess, I confess that I share
Norma's disgrace.
For through me she has broken the fair
Vows of her race!
And if fair Adalgisa I wed,
As I probably may,
Oh, my love, I'll then remember
For her you die to-day!
Good bye, good bye for ever,
For evermore—
For ever—for ever, for evermore!

Nor.
Five minutes more, and they'll apply the link—
Can you, for five short minutes, do you think,
Be faithful to a wife as fond as I?

Pol.
I think I can—at all events, I'll try!
All that five minutes shall with you be spent.
(to Adal.)
By Norma I'm re-borrowed and re-lent!

(Embraces.)
Oro.
Before my very face! With rage I'm bustin';
The tone that it's discussed in is disgustin'.
(furiously)
You are no child of mine!

Adal.
How can you say so?
Oh, Oroveso—don't turn her avay so!

Nor.
My mother died long since—my next relation,
My father, now resigns his situation!
And will not shield me from this angry storm, ah,
Let me be known henceforth as “Nor-pa, Nor-ma!”

Oro.
Ascend the pyre, for mercy we refuse you all;
And please let down your back hair as per usual;
'Twill serve to hide each too attractive feature;
Take out that hideous puff, puff hideous creature;
With tar and turpentine shall Pollio scorch her.
Apply the torch—

Pol.
Oh, horror, this is torch-er!

Oro.
You hesitate? Come, come, apply the torch, man!

Pol.
(throwing down torch)
I shan't—I am a Roman—not a Scorch man!

Oro.
His frame of mind I find I've been mistaking.

Pol.
Oh, Norma, I should like to save your baking,
But, as it seems from what your people say,
That there are difficulties in the way.
I'll die with you, my little children's mother!
This link shall serve to link us to each other!

Oro.
Then shall the task be mine, to fire the jade
Thus perishes the false perfidious maid,
The maid who swore for life, and can't denial it,
To dress in white, and keep her vows in violet.

Small Priestess.
Stop! in that case we all deserve to die,
We all have married Romans on the sly!

(All kneel in couples.)
Arm.
We have.

Ing.
We have, indeed!

Oro.
Oh, have you so!
Wherever do you all expect to go,
You simple, unsophisticated daisies?

Arm.
Alas, we all expect to go—to blazes!

(pointing to pile.)
Pol.
But stay—one word before you burn us.

Oro.
No!

Pol.
This card-case, which I found some time ago,
With anxious care I've hitherto concealed it,
Take it to Rome, and to its owner yield it,
The name's inside.

Oro.
To me that trinket give,
My late-lamented card-case, as I live!
My life of late has been one long-drawn sham,
Now to discover who I really am!
(opens case.)
Ha! ha! Of course! Away concealment, fled.
For I am Julius Cæsar in disguise!
(Throws off disguise and appears as Julius Cæsar. All kneel.)
Shrouded for years in calico and mystery,
Well, of this Gallic war I'll write a history,
If safely I return to land Italic, O,
And call it—let me see—de bello Calico!

Adal.
My husband Julius!

Oro.
Yes, on one condition,
For Cæsar's wife must be above suspicion.

Adal.
It's true I cared for Pollio, but consider,
I always fancied that I was a widder!

Pol.
Come, please light up, or are you going, pray,
To keep us shivering up here all day?

(Priest about to apply torch.)
Oro.
Stay, stay. Although it's written, I confess,
That every defalcating Druidess
Shall certainly be burnt upon a pyre,
It doesn't specify the kind of fire.
(struck by an idea).
Red fire!

Nor.
Of course! Illumination mock,
We have a quantity of that in stock!

Pol.
Come, light up, please! Fizz! (red fire)
. There, the king is done;
We've all passed through the fire—yes, every one!
And rise, to bring about more social crashes
As rose the fabled Phœnix from his ashes!
(Norma comes forward.)
So ends our play. I come to speak the tag,
With downcast eyes, and faltering steps, that lag,
I'm cowed and conscienc-stricken—for to-night
We have, no doubt, contributed our mite
To justify that topic of the age,
The degradation of the English stage.
More courage to my task, I, p'rhaps. might bring,
Were this a drama with real everything—
Real cabs—real lime-light, too, in which to bask—
Real turnpike-keepers, and real Grant and Gask!
But no—the piece is common-place, grotesque,
A solemn folly—a proscribed burlesque!
So for burlesque I plead. Forgive our rhymes;
Forgive the jokes you've heard five thousand times;
Forgive each breakdown, cellar-flap, and clog,
Our low-bred songs—our slangy dialogue;
And, above all—oh, ye with double barrel—
Forgive the scantiness of our apparel!

Finale—Everybody.
Air—“Boolabang.” (Ching Chow Hi.)
Please you, sirs, restrain your fury,
Ding, ding, ding, &c.,
Don't be hard upon our play,
Ladies, you are judge and jury,
Give a gentle verdict pray!

Curtain.