 | An Original Light English Opera, in Three Acts. Entitled Haddon Hall |  |
ACT II.
Scene I.
—Dorothy Vernon's Door.(Rupert and the Puritans are discovered, sheltering from the storm.)
Puritans.
Hoarsely the wind is howling—
Bitterly bites the blast—
The midnight cat is prowling—
The rain is falling fast—
But what of that?
We'll back ourselves against the howling wind
And the nocturnal cat—
At two to one, bar none.
Rupert.
And not a layer find
Even at that.
Puritans.
Even at that.
Rupert.
The rain falls fast,
In icy blasts:
It's the sort of day when people say
It's much too bad to last.
Puritans.
But it lasts!
Rupert.
It lasts!
Puritans.
It lasts!
My good friend, Simeon, thou who singest songs and art
by way of being a musician, tell me, what is thy private judgment on
these strains with which it is our habit to beguile our lighter moments?
Simeon.
I'sooth, they be saintly airs.
Rupert.
At the same time, dost thou not think, something a trifle
more melodious—
Kill-Joy.
Melody! 'tis the invention of Satan!
Barnabas.
To us hath been revealed the higher law, that discord is
the soul of all true harmony.
Rupert.
Barnabas, thou wert born before thy time, Two centuries
hence, and thou wouldst be a leader amongst musicians; but as things
are, thou art an anachronism.
Verily, we are all anachronisms.
Simeon.
But conscience is a great comforter.
Nicodemus.
Even in such weather as this.
Barnabas.
Troth, 'tis a gruesome night!
Rupert
(glancing at windows).
But they seem to be enjoying themselves
within. High jinks, within. And why are we out of it? This
feast is given in our especial honour, and here we are cooling our heels
in this particularly moist and most unpleasant atmosphere, simply
because our conscientious scruples will not permit us to countenance
such carnal junkettings. But for our consciences we should probably at
this moment be enjoying a stoup of something hot—
Kill-Joy.
With spice in it!
(All sigh and gaze at the windows.)
Rupert.
Our withdrawal has not cast that gloom over the proceedings
which might have been anticipated.
Simeon.
But heed them not! We are the salt of the earth.
Rupert.
My faithful Simeon, is not that an additional reason why
we should be kept in a dry place? This excess of moisture without and
this phenomenal aridity within are beginning to tell upon me. I feel
my Puritanic principles are tottering. It will do me a world of good to
refresh myself at the uncompromising fount of The McCrankie.
Nicodemus.
But where is he?
Rupert.
He is certainly late, but he has a long way to come.
The Island of Rum is situate in a remote part of the west coast of Scotland;
but between you and me, I sometimes wish it were further. The
McCrankie is a Puritan above proof, and a little of him goes a long way
—especially when he accompanies himself on the national instrument.
(Puritans groan.)
Let us hope he will leave it behind him.
(The bagpipes
are heard in the distance.)
Oh, this is worse than the weather!
Enter The McCrankie.
SONG.
McCrankie.
I am lean an' lang an' lanky,
I'm a Moody an' a Sankey,
Wound upo' a Scottish reel!
Pedantic an' puncteelious,
Severe an' superceelious,
Preceese an' atra-beelious—
But meanin' vera weel.
I don't objec tae whiskey,
But I say a'songs are risky,
An' I think a'dances frisky,
An' I've pit the fuitlichts oot!
I am the maist dogmatical,
Three-cornered, autocratical,
Funereal, fanatical,
O'a'the cranks aboot!
An' I wadna sanction smokin';
An' my nose I wad be pokin'
Into ilka body's way.
I'd use my power censorial
In manner dictatorial;
To naebody's memorial
Attention wad I pay;
I'd stap the kittens' playin'
An' forbid the horses' neighin',
But oh, not the ass's brayin',
For I love the ass's bray!
I am the maist mechanical,
Offeecious, puritanical,
Pragmatic an' tyrannical
Production o'the day!
Rupert.
So here thou art at last! Thou hast been long on the
way.
McCrankie.
Houts, mon, business maun be attended tae.
Rupert.
Business? What business?
McCrankie.
If thou but ken't how mony gude folk I had made
meeserable, thou'd say I'd nae wasted my time. I'd scarce set foot
upo' t'bo't that was to hae brought me frae t'Eel o'Rum, when I
behelt a sicht that froze me vera bluid. A sailor-laddie, gangin' on a
cruise, a cuittlin' an' a cuddlin' a braw lassie on t'quay itsel'!
Rupert.
Perhaps she was his sister?
McCrankie.
Aiblins, aiblins! I care nae boddle! Was I tae staun by
an' see cuittlin' an' cuddlin' i'a public place? Na, na. Sae I jist steppit
ashore an' charged 'em wi' disorderly behaviour. That's hoo I missed
t'bo't.
Rupert.
Any more adventures?
McCrankie.
The neist sicht that I seen was some wee bairns
singin' an' dancin' i't'oopen air. I jist gang'd up tae 'em, and somethin'
i'ma vera face took the de'il oot o' 'em. I said, “Hae ye a singin' an' a
dancin' leecence?” They said they hadna; sae I took 'em tae t'jile,
an' when I left 'em greetin' oot their een, I couldna help fa'in on ma
knees, an' giein' the Laird thanks for ha'en made a mon sae unco guid
as me.
Rupert.
No doubt, McCrankie, no doubt, as a work of art thou
dost Providence infinite credit.
McCrankie.
An' ye may say that. T'best day's work it aye did.
I aye said that.
Rupert.
But there is one little matter which rather perplexes me, if
I may mention it without offence.
Oot wi' it!
Rupert.
I have never been able to reconcile thy notorious objection
to the custome of the corps de ballet with this exceedingly liberal display
of thine own personal attractions.
McCrankie.
Mon, it is saved from offence by the deegnity o'the
kilt.
Rupert.
Which is its dignity? That tobacco pouch there?
McCrankie.
Houts, thou doil'd dotard, thou may lauch thy fill,
but Scots wha hae nae breeks aye worn, nae breeks sall they aye wear.
Rupert.
What art thou about now?
McCrankie.
Aweel, aweel, I was jist baskin' i't'licht o'my ain
coontenance, an' gie'in' thanks that I was made sae muckle mair guid
than ithers.
Rupert.
But, McCrankie, my old comrade, strictly between ourselves,
dost think that this exuberant virtue of ours is altogether a matter
for thanksgiving? It makes life somewhat dull, doth it not?
McCrankie
(producing flask).
Aweel, aweel, life hae its campensation.
Here's t'ye!
(drinks).
Hae a drappie?
(Puritans gather
round.)
Rupert.
I don't mind if I do.
(Drinks and returns flask. Puritans
cough.)
McCrankie
(puts flask back in his sporran).
Hae ye caulds, a'o'ye?
Rupert.
My friends, you may withdraw. The McCrankie and I
are about to propound the Puritan programme of posterity, and it is
desirable that we should not be interrupted. Withdraw gracefully, if
ye can—but withdraw.
Simeon.
As usual.
Nicodemus.
Out of it
Puritans.
Always out of it!
McCrankie.
Hae they ga'en awa'?
Rupert.
They have not withdrawn gracefully, but they have
withdrawn.
Rupert and McCrankie.
Our solemn secret tae espy—
So let us plainly say—
Could we create the world anew,—
What we wad vera quickly do,—
If we but had our way!
Like Joshua, we would stop the sun—
The thing is vera simply done—
If we but had our way!
We'd pit an end tae heat an' licht—
An' bring aboot eternal nicht—
If we but had our way!
We'd supervise the plants and flowers—
Prescribe 'em early-closin' hours—
If we but had our way!
We would forbid the rose to smell—
We'd re-instate the curfew bell—
If we but had our way!
No man, in influenzas throes,
Suld be allo'ed tae blaw his nose—
If we but had our way!
No cock should crow, no bird should sing,—
Naebody suld dae onything—
Without our licence, sealed and signed:—
For we wad dominate monkind—
If we but had our way!
Consulted at the planet's birth—
Tho' we'd a lot to say!
Had we been on creation's scene,
A great improvement there'd ha' been—
If we'd but had our way.
But somehow we were clean forgot,
That's why we'll make things piping hot—
And ye the piper pay.
We'll tax ye oop an' tax ye doon,
We'll tax the country, tax the toon,—
If we but have our way.
We'll tax ye hip, and tax ye thigh,—
An' sen' the rate-book oop lift-high,—
And cry, hurray, hurray!
An' what becomes o'science, art,
The law, the temple an' the mart,
We naether ken nor care!
Wha pays his scot an' bears his lot—
A lot will have to bear.
We only know, our lack of sense
Is inconceivably immense!
And now, we hope, ye plainly see
That ye are bigger fools than we—
If we but have our way!
(The door is cautiously opened, and Dorcas appears. Rupert and The McCrankie withdraw into the shadow. Dorcas comes down the steps.)
Dorcas.
Not a sound! Not a whisper! Where can Oswald be?
This is the hour, and this the trysting place.
(Rupert and The McCrankie advance—she screams.)
McCrankie.
Dinna be frichtened, leddy.
Dorcas.
Who art thou?
Rupert.
Permit me to introduce my old friend, The McCrankie,
from the Island of Rum—a Scotch puritan of the most uncompromising
type.
McCrankie.
An' wha is this braw lassie?
Rupert.
Mistress Dorcas, handmaiden to fair Mistress Dorothy.
McCrankie.
I am richt glad tae make thine acquaintance.
Dorcas.
So am not I. Hands off!
McCrankie.
Hout awa', leddy. The nicht is dark—
Rupert.
And there is no one looking.
Dorcas.
So much the worse!
McCrankie.
Sae muckle the better! Thou'rt a sonsie lassie.
Dorcas.
Fie on ye! Fie! Ye are a brace of ill-mannered knaves,
and ought both to be clapped in the stocks!
TRIO.
Rupert.
Hoity-toity, what's a kiss?
McCrankie.
'Tis nae vera shockin'!
Rupert.
Do not take the thing amiss!
McCrankie.
Lass, there's nae ane leukin'!
Dorcas.
Hoity-toity, what's a kiss?
Kissing goes by favour!
Rupert.
And when the kiss
Is a stolen bliss—
McCrankie.
The sweeter is the savour!
Upon my word,
I never heard
A statement more surprising!
Aren't ye afraid
Of with a maid
Your conscience compromising?
The Three.
Upon a light
And starry night,
We might/Ye would consult the latter;
But when the maid
Is in the shade,
It's quite another matter.
Rupert.
Hoity-toity, who's afraid?
McCrankie.
When there's nae ane leukin'!
Rupert.
I could ne'er resist a maid—
McCrankie.
When she shows her stockin'!
Dorcas.
Hoity-toity, man, be mum!
Hast thou had a glassie?
Rupert.
My friend hath come
From the Isle of Rum—
McCrankie.
An' thou'rt a braw, wee lassie!
Dorcas.
Behave thyself,
Thou Highland elf,
Thy conduct is past bearing;
I thought ye both
Had taken oath,
Frivolity forswearing.
The Three.
Like every man,
A Puritan
Admires a waist that's taper,
And on the sly
Will wink his eye
And cut his little caper!
Rupert.
Hoity-toity, what's an oath?
McCrankie.
Eyes were made for hookin'.
Rupert.
We are very human, both—
McCrankie.
When there's nae ane leukin'!
Hoity-toity, things have come
To a pretty passie!
Rupert.
The Isle of Rum
Is a trifle glum—
McCrankie.
An' thou'rt a bonny lassie!
Dorcas.
Thou horrid thing!
Thou Highland fling!
I'm sure thou'st had a glassie!
I won't by you—(box)
Or any two—(box)
Be called a bonny lassie!
Rupert and McCrankie./Dorcas.
Oh, hist and whist!/Oh, hist and whist
Now, don't resist!/Now, do desist,
Why make so great a clatter?/Or I'll create a clatter!
There's none to see,/Do set me free,
So what the d---,/And let me be,
The de'il doth it matter?/And cease your silly chatter.
[Thunder. Exeunt Rupert and McCrankie.
FINALE.
Dorcas.
The West wind howls,
The thunder rolls,
But love keeps warm my heart!
Oh, mistress dear,
To-night and here,
Sweet mistress, must we part?
Enter Oswald.
Oswald.
The horses are saddled and dark is the night,
The stars in the firmament favour our flight;
Each planet its splendour hath graciously veiled;
And the chaste moon herself her effulgence hath paled.
Dorcas.
But the planets are there,
Though their glory they hide;
Though a mask they may wear,
They will smile on the bride!
The stars keep their vigils above her;
Oh, Oswald, dear Oswald, I love her.
Oswald.
Ah, happy maid,
A wife so soon to be,
To be beloved
By one so fair as thee!
To love's sweet vow
I'll listen all life long;
Sing love to me,
And thine I'll be
And live upon thy song;
But sing not now!
If they should pursue!
Do not forsake her,
Oh, my lover true!
Promise me, Oswald, promise thy bride,
That if thou leavst me a maid forlorn,
To weep the day that I e'er was born,
Thou wilt not leave her side!
Oswald.
I swear!
Dorcas.
Now art thou mine,
For ever mine!
Oswald.
And I for ever thine!
(Thunder.)
Manners
(Off).
Flash, lightning, flash,
And roll, thou thunder, roll!
The heavens crash,
But peace is in my soul;
For love is there,
Serene and blest,
And everywhere
Where love is, there is rest.
Enter Manners.
The Three.
Flash, lightning, flash,
And roll, thou thunder, roll!
Thou canst not crush!
Love reigns from pole to pole!
And through the black
Abyss above
Love rolls thee back,
For thou thyself art love.
Flash, lightning, flash,
And roll, thou thunder, roll!
E'en thou art blest;
For love is there,
And everywhere
Where love is, there is rest.
(The door opens and Dorothy appears. Dorcas goes up to close the door.)
[Exit Oswald.
Oh, heart's desire,
I see thee once again!
I seem to hear the heavenly choir
Sing, life is not in vain.
When thou art nigh, oh, true my love,
Again the sky is blue, my love.
Dorothy.
There is no light,
When thou art far away;
Thine absence is to me the night,
Thy presence is the day;
For when I am with thee, my love,
Another world I see, my love!
Manners.
The shadows flit!
There is no darkness now,
For all the stars of heaven sit
Enthroned on thy brow.
Both.
Again I see thee, true my love,
The sky again is blue, my love!
There is no darkness now!
Re-enter Oswald.
Oswald.
The horses are waiting—
Dorcas.
And ready am I!
Manners.
The storm is abating—
Come, love, let us fly!
Dorothy.
Oh, grant me one moment! Dear Haddon, good-bye
Oswald.
The horses are waiting—
Manners.
Come, love, let us fly!
Dorothy.
I ne'er may look on thee
Again—
Who can tell?
The sun shine upon thee!
Farewell!
I have tried to obey thee—
In vain!
Sad am I!
Oh, love me, I pray thee!
Good-bye!
Is this thing sin
That I am doing for thy sake?
Ghostly the night!
Manners.
But calm aye follows storm!
Dorcas.
Hush! what was that?
Oswald.
Thy heart thine ear deceives.
Manners.
'Twas nought!
Dorcas.
Again! Again!
Dorothy.
See yonder form!
All.
Hush! (Pause.)
'Twas but the twinkle of the rustling leaves.
Manners.
Be not afraid! on my strong arm depend!
Dorcas.
See! there is something!
Oswald.
Where?
Manners.
Amongst the trees
Dorcas.
Yea, there is something moving!
Dorothy.
Saints defend!
(Pause.)
All.
'Twas but the branches swaying in the breeze!
Manners.
Now step lightly,
Hold me tightly,
Creep along by yonder wall
All.
Hold me tightly!
Where the deepest shadows fall.
Heaven, befriend us!
Saints defend us!
Fare thee well, old Haddon Hall!
Lightly let our footsteps fall,
Lightly fall, lightly fall, &c.
[Exeunt, pursued by the Puritans.
[As the storm dies away, the scene changes to The Long Gallery, where Sir George, Lady Vernon, and Chorus are discovered.
Enter Major Domo.
Major Domo.
Silence all! Attend your host!
Silence all, and pledge the toast!
Sir George.
'Tis an honoured old tradition,
Open house is Haddon Hall;
Welcome all who seek admission,
Gentle, simple, great and small.
Health and wealth to comrades present,
Welcome one and all the same!
Chorus.
Health to peer and health to peasant!
Health to squire and health to dame!
SONG.
Sir George.
In days of old,
When men were bold,
And the prize of the brave the fair,
We danced and sang
Till the rafters rang
And laughter was everywhere!
Our lives were lives of stress and storm,
But through our veins the blood ran warm—
We only laughed the more!
For mirth was mirth,
And worth was worth
In the grand old days of yore!
Chorus.
To the grand old days,
The grand old days!
The grand old days of yore!
Ere life is old,
And hearts grow cold,
And the autumn gathers grey,
With soul and voice
In your youth rejoice,
And merrily keep your May;
Again let love and manly mirth
And woman's beauty rule the earth
As beauty ruled before;
And once again
Let men be men
As they were in days of yore.
Omnes.
To the grand old days—
The grand old days—
The grand old days of yore!
Enter Rupert and McCrankie bearing in Dorcas, followed by the Puritans.
Rupert.
Eloped, eloped! Betrayed, betrayed!
Abetted by this tricksy maid!
McCrankie.
Eh, mon! eh, mon! t'dochter's flown!
Sir George.
Is this my house, sir, or thine own?
Rupert.
Forgive my friend—let me express
My sorrow for his zeal's excess;
He has only just come
From the Isle of Rum,
And this is his native evening dress.
Sir George.
But why has he come—
Lady Vernon and Dorcas.
Yes, why has he come—
Chorus.
Yes, why has he come from the Isle of Rum?
Sir George.
And having come—
Lady Vernon and Dorcas.
Yes, having come—
Chorus.
Yes, having come from the Isle of Rum—
Sir George.
Cannot thy Gaelic friend be dumb?
Omnes.
Although he has come from the Isle of Rum.
Eh, mon, eh, mon, ye dinna ken,
T'dochter's gane wi' evil men!
Sir George.
What is this tale?
Lady Vernon.
I fear me!
Rupert.
This tale I will succinctly tell,
If you will only hear me.
Chorus.
Oh! tell this tale to us as well;
A tearful tale, I fear me!
Rupert.
We were sheltering all
Underneath a wall,
Very damp and most unhappy;
And to keep us warm
In the pelting storm—
McCrankie.
We were hae'in a wee drappie!
Puritans.
They were having a wee drappie!
Rupert.
We said so, friends!
McCrankie.
We said, we a'
Were bidin' underneath a wa'—
Rupert.
Very damp—
McCrankie.
An' maist unhappy!
Puritans.
Oh yes, we were damp,
And we all had the cramp,
But we had no wee drappie!
Dorcas and Chorus.
That's why you were unhappy?
Puritans.
That's why we were unhappy.
McCrankie.
I was bidin' there
Wi' nae breeks tae wear—
An' a kilt's a wee bit draughty!
Rupert.
When one of the boys
He heard a noise—
McCrankie.
An' we listened, cool an' crafty.
Simeon
(holding up his hand).
Please, I was the boy—
Who heard the noi—
(much interested).
And you listened cool and crafty
Rupert.
To voices speaking—
McCrankie.
Footsteeps creaking—
Both.
Then a silence deep and dead.
Puritans.
Need we mention
Our attention
Was bestowed on what they said?
Chorus.
And what did the voices say?
Tell us, we pray.
Rupert.
Hush, step lightly!
McCrankie.
Haud me tightly!
Puritans.
Lightly let your footsteps fall—
Lightly, lightly, lightly fall!
Lightly fall, &c.
Rupert.
Forward I rushed, this saucy vixen grasping!
McCrankie.
Forrit I fell, an' crackt a Scottish croon!
Puritans.
Backward we flew, until we pulled up gasping!
McCrankie.
I rose agen, but some ane knockt me doon!
Rupert.
A sound of hoofs against the gravel ringing—
McCrankie.
The cluds disperse, that had obscured the moon—
Rupert.
We see a maiden to a horseman clinging!
McCrankie.
We were too late—
Puritans.
Or else we were too soon.
Rupert and McCrankie.
Too late! too late! too late!
Men.
Or else they were too soon!
Sir George.
What means this tale? Why interrupt our sport,
This intrigue of the kitchen to report?
Dorcas.
It means that to-morrow
Thy daughter and pride
Will be, to thy sorrow,
Her true lover's bride.—
Sir George.
My daughter!
Lady Vernon.
My daughter!
All.
Thy daughter!
Rupert.
My cousin and bride!
Away to the water
They gallantly ride!
(Thunder.)
Sir George.
To horse—to horse—the fugitives pursue!
Chorus.
To horse—to horse
Rupert, McCrankie, and Puritans.
To horse—but after you!
Sir George.
Fleet tho' the lightning's flash
Vanish from view,
Surely the thunder's crash
Follows anew.
I will, whatever hap,
Press thro' the holt,
Close as the thunder-clap
After the bolt!
Chorus.
Fleet tho' the lightning's flash
Vanish from view,
Surely the thunder's crash
Follows anew!
Sir George.
To horse—to horse—spare neither steed nor spur!
Chorus.
To horse! To horse!
Rupert, McCrankie, and Puritans.
We will bring up the rear!
All.
To horse! to horse! the fugitives pursue!
[Exeunt Sir George and a few of the Chorus, the rest gather round Lady Vernon.
Lady Vernon.
In vain they will blunder
Thro' holt and thro' brake;
Never yet did the thunder
The lightning o'ertake!
Girls.
Farewell, our gracious hostess,
Of children both bereft;
But love, obedience, troops of friends
Unto thee still are left.
Not ours to break grief's sacred seal
And on thy woe to dwell,
But ours to bend a humble knee
And bid thee fond farewell.
Lady Vernon.
Farewell!
Chorus.
Farewell!
Time, the Controller,
Time, that unravels the tangle of life,
Guard thee from danger,
Prove thy consoler,
And make thee again happy mother and wife!
[Exeunt Lady Vernon and Dorcas.
Servants enter, and extinguish the lights, one by one. The Chorus disperse, and gradually exeunt, singing:—
Brief is all life;
Its storm and strife
Time stills;
And thro' this dream
The nameless scheme
Fulfils;
Until one day
Thro' space is hurled
A vacant world,
Silent and grey.
As the lamps are extinguished, the cold light of dawn steals through the windows. The Servants exeunt, and the curtain falls.
| An Original Light English Opera, in Three Acts. Entitled Haddon Hall | |