 | An Original Light English Opera, in Three Acts. Entitled Haddon Hall |  |
ACT III.
Scene.—The Ante-chamber.Enter Rupert and Chorus, now arrayed in Puritan costume.
CHORUS.
(Aloud.)
Our heads we bow, the rod we kiss—
(Aside.)
Did ever you hear such a chorus as this?
It's a Puritan's notion of heavenly bliss!
(Aloud.)
The scales have fallen from our eyes—
(Aside.)
We're painfully conscious we're so many guys,
And we're all of us telling a parcel of lies!
(Aloud.)
The truth at last we clearly see—
(Aside.)
Oh, hi diddle, diddle! between you and me,
Our apparent conversion is fiddle-de-dee!
(Aloud.)
Oh, priceless gift! Oh blessed boon!
(Aside.)
It must have been of this identical tune
The apocryphal quadruped perished so soon
(Aloud.)
Oh blessed boon!
(Aside.)
Oh what a tune!
Rupert.
Very good—excellent! That will conclude our lesson for
to-day. As a reward for your good conduct I will now communicate to you
a piece of information which I feel sure you will receive with feelings of
the liveliest satisfaction. The law-suit, which, since the somewhat abrupt
departure of Mistress Dorothy with a handsomer—ahem!—with another
gentleman—I have been prosecuting with the utmost vigour, has at last
terminated in my favour. This hall and these estates now vest in me.
Though with my usual good taste I have not insisted on the immediate
evacuation of my cousin, Sir George, and his good lady, from this day forth
I am the Lord of Haddon—I alone.
(Chorus continue reading, taking
no notice of him. Rupert comes down.)
My announcement has not been
received with the cordiality which I had a right to expect. I have
always understood that on such an occasion it was customary for
retainers, servants, peasants, &c., to break out in a chorus expressive of
delight and admiration.
(Glances at Chorus.)
I have evidently been
misinformed.
Enter Lady Vernon, attended by Dorcas.
'Tis my fair cousin!
Sir, without waste of words, it is not our purpose
to intrude longer on thy hospitality. My husband awaits thee in the
Eagle Tower, prepared to yield to thee the muniments of Haddon and
to say farewell.
Rupert.
I will attend him instantly.
[Exit.
Lady Vernon
(turning to Dorcas).
And farewell thou. And all of
you.
Dorcas.
Our hearts go with thee.
Lady Vernon.
And ours stay with you—bruised, but not broken.
We are Vernons still.
SONG.
Queen of the roses round her;
Never a wayward wind that blows
Breathed on the briar that bound her;
The sunset lingered on her face,
And Phœbus, westward roaming,
Illumined with a golden grace
The empress of the gloaming.
Never a moon at evening rose
But in the twilight found her
Regal in rest, in red repose,
Queen of the roses round her!
Into her soul a sorrow;
Over her head the dewdrops wept,
“She will be dead to-morrow!”
But still a smile upon her cheek,
The morrow found her glowing
In crimson state, on all who seek
Her royal grace bestowing.
Queen of the garden still at noon,
Queen of the roses round her,
Not until eve the pallid moon
Dead in the garden found her!
Dorcas and Chorus.
Dead in the garden lay a rose,
Regal in rest they found her;
Smiling in death's august repose,
Queen of the roses round her!
Meanwhile Sir George has entered.
[Exeunt Dorcas and Chorus.
Sir George.
Alone—alone!
No friendly tone
To bid my heart rejoice.
My son beneath the sighing sea—
My daughter dear estranged from me!
No kindly voice
To say rejoice!
Alone!
Lady Vernon.
Not whilst I live.
Sir George.
Why kneelest thou to me?
Lady Vernon.
Husband, forgive!
A suppliant I to thee!
'Twas I who urged our daughter's flight—
Oh! how can I atone?
Upon that wild and starless night,
The culprit, I alone!
Sir George.
Then it was thou!
Lady Vernon.
My head I humbly bow.
(Sir George raises her.
Sir George.
Bride of my youth, wife of my age,
Who, hand in hand and page by page,
Hast read life's book with me,
Upon whose knee our son hath slept,
Together we have smiled and wept
Over his grave—the sea.
Until we quit life's chequered scene,
Love, let us keep our friendship green;
Friends we have always, always been,
Friends let us always be.
Lady Vernon.
Our years are spent, our heads are grey,
And slowly ebbs the tide away
That bears us out to sea.
Sir George.
I print a kiss upon thy brow;
We are too old to quarrel now;
What have I left but thee?
Both.
Until we quit life's chequered scene,
Love, let us keep our friendship green;
Friends we have always, always been,
Friends let us always be!
[Exeunt.
Rupert.
Methought it good taste not to interrupt them, albeit they
delay their departure unduly. Sooth to say, the position of my poor
cousins is pathetic enough, but it behoves them to accept their lot with
philosophy—as I do.
Enter Dorcas excitedly, followed by Chorus.
How now? How now? Is it so that ye enter our presence?
SCENE.
Dorcas.
In frill and feather spick and span,
A gallant is asking for thee;
I told him to go,
But he wouldn't take “no”—
Oh, he is such a nice young man!
Nance./Gertrude./Deborah.
We told him to go,/But he wouldn't take “no”—/Oh, he is such a nice young man
Rupert.
Oh yes, I know that nice young man
He travels in coffee and tea;
And if you're not in,
Leaves behind him a tin
Or a packet of bad Bohea.
Chorus.
Oh, we all of us know that nice young man
Who travels in coffee and tea,
And if you're not in,
Leaves behind him a tin
Or a packet of bad Bohea.
Dorcas.
Oh, sir, he's such a handsome youth!
The nicest I ever did see!
To tell thee the truth
I have never seen youth,
Who was quite such a youth as he!
[Exit Dorcas.
Nance./Gertrude./Deborah.
To tell thee the truth,/We have never seen youth/Who was quite such a youth as he!
Rupert.
Oh yes, I know that self-same youth!
He dabbles a bit in the arts;
He wants you to hire
What you'll never require,
In a series of monthly parts.
He is partial to hours both dark and late,
He has a quick eye for the spoons,
And long will he wait
With his foot in the gate,
In the dusk of the afternoons.
Flourish. Re-enter Dorcas with Oswald in uniform. He salutes and gives a parchment to Rupert.
Oswald.
Good General Monk, with others therein named,
Hath entered London and the King proclaimed.
And by his order I am here to claim
This ancient manor, in King Charles's name!
Dost thou surrender?
Rupert.
Nothing! I have said!
Oswald.
So be it, sire; thy blood be on thy head!
[Salutes and exit.
Rupert.
Summon my bodyguard! I fear me, friends,
Some evil to my person this portends.
Enter Puritans, one by one, loafing, with their hands in their pockets.
Why this disorder? this rebellious mien?
Where are your books? and why are ye so clean?
Puritans.
Bother our books!
We all intend
Our evil looks
And ways to mend.
We mean to do just what we like,
So we have all come out on strike.
Eight hours we'll moan—
Eight hours we'll sigh—
Eight hours we'll groan—
Eight hours we'll pry!
Simeon.
But for sixteen we will be free!
Puritans.
And so say I!
Chorus.
And so say we!
(Chorus fling down their books.)
Dorcas.
We have thought the matter out
And we know what we're about,
And whatever thou mayst do or say,
We intend to sing in chorus
With the gallants who adore us,
And to merry-make the livelong day!
Singing, Tra, la, la, &c.
Chorus.
Tra, la, la, &c.
To a word of warning hark,
Ere you recklessly embark
On an undertaking so inane
As to dedicate to Cupid
That particularly stupid
And peculiarly weak refrain
Known as Tra, la, la, &c.
Chorus.
Tra, la, la, &c.
Puritans.
From the point of view of wit,
We are open to admit
It's a silly sort of thing to say;
But when musically treated
And sufficiently repeated,
It's effective in its simple way.
So, sing, Tra, la, la, &c.
Chorus.
Tra, la, la, &c.
Rupert.
So, the professional agitator hath been at work here. I
must take counsel with McCrankie. His uncompromising puritanism
will no doubt find a way out of the difficulty.
Enter McCrankie, in breeches.
Odds troth! what means this metamorphosis?
(Chorus gather round.)
McCrankie.
Aweel, aweel, I'll tell ye a'aboot it. I wasna tat weel
last nicht, and sae, tae warm my heart, I jist had—
Rupert.
A wee drappie?
McCrankie.
Wha tauld thee, mon? Sickerly! I had ane wee
drappie.
Chorus.
He had one wee drappie!
McCrankie.
But somegate I felt waur instead o'better; and sae—
weel, I jist had anither wee drappie.
Rupert.
He had two wee drappies!
McCrankie.
But twa wee drappies didna reach the cause.
Rupert.
So thou hadst three?
(McCrankie shakes his head.)
Dorcas.
Four?
Gertrude.
Five?
Nance.
Six?
McCrankie.
Weel, I didna jistly coont.
Rupert.
Well, thou wert past arithmetic; what then?
McCrankie.
I'd fa'an asleep; an' i'my sleep, got crackin' tae mysel'.
An' what dae ye think I said?
Rupert.
Mon, I neither ken nor care.
[Exit.
McCrankie.
Hech, mon! hech, mon! it gars me greet
Tae see thy capers mony,
When nature made the earth sae sweet,
An' life micht be sae bonny.
Why nae accept what fortune sen's
An' learn that earth an' heaven are frien's?
Eneugh o'hanky-panky—
Gie ower thy freaks
An' don the breeks,
An' be a mon, McCrankie!
Puritans and Chorus.
Thou'st got 'em on!
McCrankie
(proudly).
I've got 'em on!
Puritans and Chorus.
Thou'st got 'em on, McCrankie!
McCrankie.
At first I thocht the sudden swap
Was jist a wee bit risky;
But noo they're fastened o'the tap
I feel quite young an' frisky.
To show ye jist the sort o'thing,
I'm gaun tae dance a Heeland fling,
An' if ye'll help, I'll thank 'ee.
A wee bit skirl—
A wee bit whirl—
A fling wi' auld McCrankie!
Chorus.
A wee bit skirl—
A wee bit whirl—
A fling wi' auld McCrankie
FINALE.
(Cannonade off.)
Omnes.
Hark! the cannon! Where to hide us?
Hark! again the trumpet's call!
Friend afar and foe beside us,
Death confronts us one and all!
(Cannonade.)
The door is broken open. Enter Manners, attended by Oswald and others. Re-enter Sir George and Lady Vernon.
God save the King!
These from his hand I bring!
(Gives a warrant to Sir George.)
Time was, Sir Knight, thou spurned me from thy gate;
For my revenge I had not long to wait.
Thee, in King Charles's name, I re-instal
The lord of Haddon and of Haddon's Hall.
Chorus.
God save the King!
Puritans.
God save the King!
Lady Vernon.
But who art thou that bring
Tidings so glad?
Sir George.
Thy name?
Manners.
John Manners.
Sir George.
Rutland's son?
Manners.
The same.
Sir George.
Thou hast done this for me?
Manners.
For one who bore thy name.
(Goes up, and throws open the doors.)
Enter Dorothy, whom he leads down the steps to Sir George and Lady Vernon.
Chorus.
Lo! our mistress Haddon's pride!
Home the bridegroom brings his bride!
Manners.
Another gift, Sir Knight, I bring,
By favour of that greater King
Who rules beyond the grave.
To thee I now present my bride.
A lover, I thy wrath defied;
A son, thy grace I crave.
Dorothy
(kneeling at Sir George's feet).
Oh, father, wilt thou not forgive me now?
Sir George.
Arise, beloved! Thou hast kept thy vow.
Lady Vernon.
And all things yield to such a love as thine.
I could not but obey;
To all who have the ears to hear
Love breathes it every day.
It murmurs to our souls;
Now, thro' the lightning's fiery fork
Reverberant it rolls.
It echoes through the solemn night,
It rings all nature through;
For ever, in the angels' sight
To thine own heart be true!
Sir George, Lady Vernon, Dorothy, and Manners.
Though storms uprise
And cloud the skies,
And thorns where roses grew,
Come sun, come snow,
Come weal, come woe,
To thine own heart be true!
All.
Though storms uprise, &c.
| An Original Light English Opera, in Three Acts. Entitled Haddon Hall | |