SCENE. The fishing village of Rederring (in Cornwall). RoseMaybud's cottage is seen L.Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids. They range themselves in front ofRose's cottage.CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.Fair is Rose as bright May-day;Soft is Rose as the warm west-wind;Sweet is Rose as the new-mown hay—Rose is queen of maiden-kind!Rose, all glowingWith virgin blushes, say—Is anybody goingTo marry you to-day?SOLO—ZORAH.Every day, as the days roll on,Bridesmaids' garb we gaily don,Sure that a maid so fairly famedCan't long remain unclaimed.Hour by hour and day by day,Several months have passed away,Though she's the fairest flower that blows,No one has married Rose!CHORUS.Rose, all glowingWith virgin blushes, say—Is anybody goingTo marry you to-day?ZORAH. Hour by hour and day by day,Months have passed away.CHORUS. Fair is Rose as bright Mayday, etc.(Enter Dame Hannah, from cottage.)HANNAH. Nay, gentle maidens, you sing well but vainly, forRose is still heart-free, and looks but coldly upon her manysuitors.ZORAH. It's very disappointing. Every young man in thevillage is in love with her, but they are appalled by her beautyand modesty, and won't declare themselves; so, until she makesher own choice, there's no chance for anybody else.RUTH. This is, perhaps, the only village in the world thatpossesses an endowed corps of professional bridesmaids who arebound to be on duty every day from ten to four—and it is atleast six months since our services were required. The piouscharity by which we exist is practically wasted!ZOR. We shall be disendowed—that will be the end of it!Dame Hannah—you're a nice old person—you could marry if youliked. There's old Adam—Robin's faithful servant—he loves youwith all the frenzy of a boy of fourteen.HAN. Nay—that may never be, for I am pledged!ALL. To whom?HAN. To an eternal maidenhood! Many years ago I wasbetrothed to a god-like youth who woo'd me under an assumed name.But on the very day upon which our wedding was to have beencelebrated, I discovered that he was no other than Sir RodericMurgatroyd, one of the bad Baronets of Ruddigore, and the uncleof the man who now bears that title. As a son of that accursedrace he was no husband for an honest girl, so, madly as I lovedhim, I left him then and there. He died but ten years since, butI never saw him again.ZOR. But why should you not marry a bad Baronet ofRuddigore?RUTH. All baronets are bad; but was he worse than otherbaronets?HAN. My child, he was accursed.ZOR. But who cursed him? Not you, I trust!HAN. The curse is on all his line and has been, ever sincethe time of Sir Rupert, the first Baronet. Listen, and you shallhear the legend:LEGEND—HANNAH.Sir Rupert MurgatroydHis leisure and his richesHe ruthlessly employedIn persecuting witches.With fear he'd make them quake—He'd duck them in his lake—He'd break their bonesWith sticks and stones,And burn them at the stake!CHORUS. This sport he much enjoyed,Did Rupert Murgatroyd—No sense of shameOr pity cameTo Rupert Murgatroyd!Once, on the village green,A palsied hag he roasted,And what took place, I ween,Shook his composure boasted;For, as the torture grimSeized on each withered limb,The writhing dame`Mid fire and flameYelled forth this curse on him:"Each lord of Ruddigore,Despite his best endeavour,Shall do one crime, or more,Once, every day, for ever!This doom he can't defy,However he may try,For should he stayHis hand, that dayIn torture he shall die!"The prophecy came true:Each heir who held the titleHad, every day, to doSome crime of import vital;Until, with guilt o'erplied,"I'll sin no more!" he cried,And on the dayHe said that say,In agony he died!CHORUS. And thus, with sinning cloyed,Has died each Murgatroyd,And so shall fall,Both one and all,Each coming Murgatroyd!(Exeunt Chorus of Bridesmaids.)(Enter Rose Maybud from cottage, with small basket on her arm.)HAN. Whither away, dear Rose? On some errand of charity,as is thy wont?ROSE. A few gifts, dear aunt, for deserving villagers. Lo,here is some peppermint rock for old gaffer Gadderby, a set offalse teeth for pretty little Ruth Rowbottom, and a pound ofsnuff for the poor orphan girl on the hill.HAN. Ah, Rose, pity that so much goodness should not helpto make some gallant youth happy for life! Rose, why dost thouharden that little heart of thine? Is there none hereaway whomthou couldst love?ROSE. And if there were such an one, verily it would illbecome me to tell him so.HAN. Nay, dear one, where true love is, there is littleneed of prim formality.ROSE. Hush, dear aunt, for thy words pain me sorely. Hungin a plated dish-cover to the knocker of the workhouse door, withnaught that I could call mine own, save a change of baby-linenand a book of etiquette, little wonder if I have always regardedthat work as a voice from a parent's tomb. This hallowed volume(producing a book of etiquette), composed, if I may believe thetitle-page, by no less an authority than the wife of a LordMayor, has been, through life, my guide and monitor. By itssolemn precepts I have learnt to test the moral worth of all whoapproach me. The man who bites his bread, or eats peas with aknife, I look upon as a lost creature, and he who has notacquired the proper way of entering and leaving a room is theobject of my pitying horror. There are those in this village whobite their nails, dear aunt, and nearly all are wont to use theirpocket combs in public places. In truth I could pursue thispainful theme much further, but behold, I have said enough.HAN. But is there not one among them who is faultless, inthine eyes? For example—young Robin. He combines the mannersof a Marquis with the morals of a Methodist. Couldst thou notlove him?ROSE. And even if I could, how should I confess it untohim? For lo, he is shy, and sayeth naught!BALLAD—ROSE.If somebody there chanced to beWho loved me in a manner true,My heart would point him out to me,And I would point him out to you.(Referring But here it says of those who point—to book.) Their manners must be out of joint—You may not point—You must not point—It's manners out of joint, to point!Ah! Had I the love of such as he,Some quiet spot he'd take me to,Then he could whisper it to me,And I could whisper it to you.(Referring But whispering, I've somewhere met,to book.) Is contrary to etiquette:Where can it be (Searching book.)Now let me see—(Finding reference.)Yes, yes!It's contrary to etiquette!(Showing it to Dame Hannah.)If any well-bred youth I knew,Polite and gentle, neat and trim,Then I would hint as much to you,And you could hint as much to him.(Referring But here it says, in plainest print,to book.) "It's most unladylike to hint"—You may not hint,You must not hint—It says you mustn't hint, in print!Ah! And if I loved him through and through—(True love and not a passing whim),Then I could speak of it to you,And you could speak of it to him.(Referring But here I find it doesn't doto book.) To speak until you're spoken to.Where can it be? (Searching book.)Now let me see—(Finding reference.)Yes, yes!"Don't speak until you're spoken to!"(Exit Dame Hannah.)ROSE. Poor aunt! Little did the good soul think, when shebreathed the hallowed name of Robin, that he would do even aswell as another. But he resembleth all the youths in thisvillage, in that he is unduly bashful in my presence, and lo, itis hard to bring him to the point. But soft, he is here!(Rose is about to go when Robin enters and calls her.)ROBIN. Mistress Rose!ROSE. (Surprised.) Master Robin!ROB. I wished to say that—it is fine.ROSE. It is passing fine.ROB. But we do want rain.ROSE. Aye, sorely! Is that all?ROB. (Sighing.) That is all.ROSE. Good day, Master Robin!ROB. Good day, Mistress Rose! (Both going—both stop.)ROSE. I crave pardon, I—ROB. I beg pardon, I—ROSE. You were about to say?—ROB. I would fain consult you—ROSE. Truly?ROB. It is about a friend.ROSE. In truth I have a friend myself.ROB. Indeed? I mean, of course—ROSE. And I would fain consult you—ROB. (Anxiously.) About him?ROSE. (Prudishly.) About her.ROB. (Relieved.) Let us consult one another.DUET-ROBIN and ROSEROB. I know a youth who loves a little maid—(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)Silent is he, for he's modest and afraid—(Hey, but he's timid as a youth can be!)ROSE. I know a maid who loves a gallant youth,(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)She cannot tell him all the sad, sad truth—(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)ROB. Poor little man!ROSE. Poor little maid!ROB. Poor little man!ROSE. Poor little maid!BOTH. Now tell me pray, and tell me true,What in the world should the (young man\maiden) do?ROB. He cannot eat and he cannot sleep—(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)Daily he goes for to wail—for to weep—(Hey, but he's wretched as a youth can be!)ROSE. She's very thin and she's very pale—(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)Daily she goes for to weep—for to wail—(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)ROB. Poor little maid!ROSE. Poor little man!ROB. Poor little maid!ROSE. Poor little man!BOTH. Now tell me pray, and tell me true,What in the world should the (young man\maiden) do?ROSE. If I were the youth I should offer her my name—(Hey, but her face is a sight for to see!)ROB. If were the maid I should fan his honest flame—(Hey, but he's bashful as a youth can be!)ROSE. If I were the youth I should speak to her to-day—(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)ROB. If I were the maid I should meet the lad half way—(For I really do believe that timid youth willdie!)ROSE. Poor little man!ROB. Poor little maid!ROSE. Poor little man!ROB. Poor little maid!BOTH. I thank you, (miss\sir), for your counsel true;I'll tell that (youth\maid) what (he\she) ought todo!(Exit ROSE.)ROB. Poor child! I sometimes think that if she wasn'tquite so particular I might venture—but no, no—even then Ishould be unworthy of her!(He sits desponding. Enter Old Adam.)ADAM. My kind master is sad! Dear Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd—ROB. Hush! As you love me, breathe not that hated name.Twenty years ago, in horror at the prospect of inheriting thathideous title, and with it the ban that compels all who succeedto the baronetcy to commit at least one deadly crime per day, forlife, I fled my home, and concealed myself in this innocentvillage under the name of Robin Oakapple. My younger brother,Despard, believing me to be dead, succeeded to the title and itsattendant curse. For twenty years I have been dead and buried.Don't dig me up now.ADAM. Dear master, it shall be as you wish, for have I notsworn to obey you for ever in all things? Yet, as we are herealone, and as I belong to that particular description of good oldman to whom the truth is a refreshing novelty, let me call you byyour own right title once more! (Robin assents.) Sir RuthvenMurgatroyd! Baronet! Of Ruddigore! Whew! It's like eighthours at the seaside!ROB. My poor old friend! Would there were more like you!ADAM. Would there were indeed! But I bring you goodtidings. Your foster-brother, Richard, has returned fromsea—his ship the Tom-Tit rides yonder at anchor, and he himselfis even now in this very village!ROB. My beloved foster-brother? No, no—it cannot be!ADAM. It is even so—and see, he comes this way!(Exeunt together.)(Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids.)CHORUS.From the briny seaComes young Richard, all victorious!Valorous is he—His achievements all are glorious!Let the welkin ringWith the news we bringSing it—shout it—Tell about it—Safe and sound returneth he,All victorious from the sea!(Enter Richard. The girls welcome him as he greets oldacquaintances.)BALLAD—RICHARD.I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop,And, off Cape Finistere,A merchantman we see,A Frenchman, going free,So we made for the bold Mounseer,D'ye see?We made for the bold Mounseer.CHORUS. So we made for the bold Mounseer,D'ye see?We made for the bold Mounseer.But she proved to be a Frigate—and she up with herports,And fires with a thirty-two!It come uncommon near,But we answered with a cheer,Which paralysed the Parley-voo,D'ye see?Which paralysed the Parley-voo!CHORUS. Which paralysed the Parley-voo,D'ye see?Which paralysed the Parley-voo!Then our Captain he up and he says, says he,"That chap we need not fear,—We can take her, if we like,She is sartin for to strike,For she's only a darned Mounseer,D'ye see?She's only a darned Mounseer!"CHORUS. For she's only a darned Mounseer,D'ye see?She's only a darned Mounseer!"But to fight a French fal-lal—it's like hittin' of agal!It's a lubberly thing for to do;For we, with all our faults,Why, we're sturdy British salts,While she's only a Parley-voo,D'ye see?While she's only a poor Parley-voo!"CHORUS. While she's only a Parley-voo,D'ye see?While she's only a poor Parley-voo!'So we up with our helm, and we scuds before the breezeAs we gives a compassionating cheer;Froggee answers with a shoutAs he sees us go about,Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,D'ye see?Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!CHORUS. Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,D'ye see?Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!And I'll wager in their joy they kissed each other'scheek(Which is what them furriners do),And they blessed their lucky starsWe were hardy British tarsWho had pity on a poor Parley-voo,D'ye see?Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!CHORUS. Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo,D'ye see?Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!(HORNPIPE.)(Exeunt Chorus.)(Enter Robin.)ROB. Richard!RICH. Robin!ROB. My beloved foster-brother, and very dearest friend,welcome home again after ten long years at sea! It is such deedsas yours that cause our flag to be loved and dreaded throughoutthe civilized world!RICH. Why, lord love ye, Rob, that's but a trifle to whatwe have done in the way of sparing life! I believe I may say,without exaggeration, that the marciful little Tom-Tit has sparedmore French frigates than any craft afloat! But 'taint for aBritish seaman to brag, so I'll just stow my jawin' tackle andbelay. (Robin sighs.) But 'vast heavin', messmate, what'sbrought you all a-cockbill?ROB. Alas, Dick, I love Rose Maybud, and love in vain!RICH. You love in vain? Come, that's too good! Why,you're a fine strapping muscular young fellow—tall and strong asa to'-gall'n'-m'st—taut as a forestay—aye, and a barrowknightto boot, if all had their rights!ROB. Hush, Richard—not a word about my true rank, whichnone here suspect. Yes, I know well enough that few men arebetter calculated to win a woman's heart than I. I'm a finefellow, Dick, and worthy any woman's love—happy the girl whogets me, say I. But I'm timid, Dick; shy—nervous—modest—retiring—diffident—and I cannot tell her, Dick, I cannot tellher! Ah, you've no idea what a poor opinion I have of myself,and how little I deserve it.RICH. Robin, do you call to mind how, years ago, we sworethat, come what might, we would always act upon our hearts'dictates?ROB. Aye, Dick, and I've always kept that oath. In doubt,difficulty, and danger I've always asked my heart what I shoulddo, and it has never failed me.RICH. Right! Let your heart be your compass, with a clearconscience for your binnacle light, and you'll sail ten knots ona bowline, clear of shoals, rocks, and quicksands! Well, now,what does my heart say in this here difficult situation? Why, itsays, "Dick," it says—(it calls me Dick acos it's known me froma babby)—"Dick," it says, "you ain't shy—you ain'tmodest—speak you up for him as is!" Robin, my lad, just you layme alongside, and when she's becalmed under my lee, I'll spin hera yarn that shall sarve to fish you two together for life!ROB. Will you do this thing for me? Can you, do you think?Yes (feeling his pulse). There's no false modesty about you.Your—what I would call bumptious self-assertiveness (I mean theexpression in its complimentary sense) has already made you abos'n's mate, and it will make an admiral of you in time, if youwork it properly, you dear, incompetent old impostor! My dearfellow, I'd give my right arm for one tenth of your modestassurance!SONG—ROBIN.My boy, you may take it from me,That of all the afflictions accurstWith which a man's saddledAnd hampered and addled,A diffident nature's the worst.Though clever as clever can be—A Crichton of early romance—You must stir it and stump it,And blow your own trumpet,Or, trust me, you haven't a chance!If you wish in the world to advance,Your merits you're bound to enhance,You must stir it and stump it,And blow your own trumpet,Or, trust me, you haven't a chance!Now take, for example, my case:I've a bright intellectual brain—In all London cityThere's no one so witty—I've thought so again and again.I've a highly intelligent face—My features cannot be denied—But, whatever I try, sir,I fail in—and why, sir?I'm modesty personified!If you wish in the world to advance, etc.As a poet, I'm tender and quaint—I've passion and fervour and grace—From Ovid and HoraceTo Swinburne and Morris,They all of them take a back place.Then I sing and I play and I paint:Though none are accomplished as I,To say so were treason:You ask me the reason?I'm diffident, modest, and shy!If you wish in the world to advance, etc.(Exit Robin.)RICH. (looking after him). Ah, it's a thousand pities he'ssuch a poor opinion of himself, for a finer fellow don't walk!Well, I'll do my best for him. "Plead for him as though it wasfor your own father"—that's what my heart's a-remarkin' to mejust now. But here she comes! Steady! Steady it is! (EnterRose—he is much struck by her.) By the Port Admiral, but she'sa tight little craft! Come, come, she's not for you, Dick, andyet—she's fit to marry Lord Nelson! By the Flag of Old England,I can't look at her unmoved.ROSE. Sir, you are agitated—RICH. Aye, aye, my lass, well said! I am agitated, trueenough!—took flat aback, my girl; but 'tis naught—'twill pass.(Aside.) This here heart of mine's a-dictatin' to me likeanythink. Question is, Have I a right to disregard itspromptings?ROSE. Can I do aught to relieve thine anguish, for itseemeth to me that thou art in sore trouble? Thisapple—(offering a damaged apple).RICH. (looking at it and returning it). No, my lass,'tain't that: I'm—I'm took flat aback—I never see anything likeyou in all my born days. Parbuckle me, if you ain't theloveliest gal I've ever set eyes on. There—I can't say fairerthan that, can I?ROSE. No. (Aside.) The question is, Is it meet that anutter stranger should thus express himself? (Refers to book.)Yes—"Always speak the truth."RICH. I'd no thoughts of sayin' this here to you on my ownaccount, for, truth to tell, I was chartered by another; but whenI see you my heart it up and it says, says it, "This is the verylass for you, Dick"—"speak up to her, Dick," it says—(it callsme Dick acos we was at school together)—"tell her all, Dick," itsays, "never sail under false colours—it's mean!" That's whatmy heart tells me to say, and in my rough, common-sailor fashion,I've said it, and I'm a-waiting for your reply. I'm a-tremblin',miss. Lookye here—(holding out his hand). That's narvousness!ROSE (aside). Now, how should a maiden deal with such anone? (Consults book.) "Keep no one in unnecessary suspense."(Aloud.) Behold, I will not keep you in unnecessary suspense.(Refers to book.) "In accepting an offer of marriage, do so withapparent hesitation." (Aloud.) I take you, but with a certainshow of reluctance. (Refers to book.) "Avoid any appearance ofeagerness." (Aloud.) Though you will bear in mind that I am farfrom anxious to do so. (Refers to book.) "A little show ofemotion will not be misplaced!" (Aloud.) Pardon this tear!(Wipes her eye.)RICH. Rose, you've made me the happiest blue-jacket inEngland! I wouldn't change places with the Admiral of the Fleet,no matter who he's a-huggin' of at this present moment! But,axin' your pardon, miss (wiping his lips with his hand), might Ibe permitted to salute the flag I'm a-goin' to sail under?ROSE (referring to book). "An engaged young lady should notpermit too many familiarities." (Aloud.) Once! (Richard kissesher.)DUET—RICHARD and ROSE.RICH. The battle's roar is over,O my love!Embrace thy tender lover,O my love!From tempests' welter,From war's alarms,O give me shelterWithin those arms!Thy smile alluring,All heart-ache curing,Gives peace enduring,O my love!ROSE. If heart both true and tender,O my love!A life-love can engender,O my love!A truce to sighingAnd tears of brine,For joy undyingShall aye be mine,BOTH. And thou and I, love,Shall live and die, love,Without a sigh, love—My own, my love!(Enter Robin, with Chorus of Bridesmaids.)CHORUS.If well his suit has sped,Oh, may they soon be wed!Oh, tell us, tell us, pray,What doth the maiden say?In singing are we justified,Hall the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!Let the nuptial knot be tied:In fair phrasesHymn their praises,Hail the Bridegroom—hall the Bride?ROB. Well—what news? Have you spoken to her?RICH. Aye, my lad, I have—so to speak—spoke her.ROB. And she refuses?RICH. Why, no, I can't truly say she do.ROB. Then she accepts! My darling! (Embraces her.)BRIDESMAIDS.Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride! etc.ROSE (aside, referring to her book). Now, what should amaiden do when she is embraced by the wrong gentleman?RICH. Belay, my lad, belay. You don't understand.ROSE. Oh, sir, belay, I beseech you!RICH. You see, it's like this: she accepts—but it's me!ROB. You! (Richard embraces Rose.)BRIDESMAIDS.Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!When the nuptial knot is tied—ROB. (interrupting angrily). Hold your tongues, will you!Now then, what does this mean?RICH. My poor lad, my heart grieves for thee, but it's likethis: the moment I see her, and just as I was a-goin' to mentionyour name, my heart it up and it says, says it—"Dick, you'vefell in love with her yourself," it says; "be honest andsailor-like—don't skulk under false colours—speak up," it says,"take her, you dog, and with her my blessin'!"BRIDESMAIDS.Hail the Bridegroom—hail the bride—ROB. Will you be quiet! Go away! (Chorus makes faces athim and exeunt.) Vulgar girls!RICH. What could I do? I'm bound to obey my heart'sdictates.ROB. Of course—no doubt. It's quite right—I don'tmind—that is, not particularly—only it's—it is disappointing,you know.ROSE (to Robin). Oh, but, sir, I knew not that thou didstseek me in wedlock, or in very truth I should not have hearkenedunto this man, for behold, he is but a lowly mariner, and verypoor withal, whereas thou art a tiller of the land, and thou hastfat oxen, and many sheep and swine, a considerable dairy farm andmuch corn and oil!RICH. That's true, my lass, but it's done now, ain't it,Rob?ROSE. Still it may be that I should not be happy in thylove. I am passing young and little able to judge. Moreover, asto thy character I know naught!ROB. Nay, Rose, I'll answer for that. Dick has won thylove fairly. Broken-hearted as I am, I'll stand up for Dickthrough thick and thin!RICH. (with emotion). Thankye, messmate! that's well said.That's spoken honest. Thankye, Rob! (Grasps his hand.)ROSE. Yet methinks I have heard that sailors are butworldly men, and little prone to lead serious and thoughtfullives!ROB. And what then? Admit that Dick is not a steadycharacter, and that when he's excited he uses language that wouldmake your hair curl. Grant that—he does. It's the truth, andI'm not going to deny it. But look at his good qualities. He'sas nimble as a pony, and his hornpipe is the talk of the fleet!RICH. Thankye, Rob! That's well spoken. Thankye, Rob!ROSE. But it may be that he drinketh strong waters which dobemuse a man, and make him even as the wild beasts of the desert!ROB. Well, suppose he does, and I don't say he don't, forrum's his bane, and ever has been. He does drink—I won't denyit. But what of that? Look at his arms—tattooed to theshoulder! (Rich. rolls up his sleeves.) No, no—I won't hear aword against Dick!ROSE. But they say that mariners are but rarely true tothose whom they profess to love!ROB. Granted—granted—and I don't say that Dick isn't asbad as any of 'em. (Rich. chuckles.) You are, you know you are,you dog! a devil of a fellow—a regular out-and-out Lothario!But what then? You can't have everything, and a better hand atturning-in a dead-eye don't walk a deck! And what anaccomplishment that is in a family man! No, no—not a wordagainst Dick. I'll stick up for him through thick and thin!RICH. Thankye, Rob, thankye. You're a true friend. I'veacted accordin' to my heart's dictates, and such orders as themno man should disobey.ENSEMBLE—RICHARD, ROBIN, and ROSE.In sailing o'er life's ocean wideYour heart should be your only guide;With summer sea and favouring wind,Yourself in port you'll surely find.SOLO—RICHARD.My heart says, "To this maiden strike—She's captured you.She's just the sort of girl you like—You know you do.If other man her heart should gain,I shall resign."That's what it says to me quite plain,This heart of mine.SOLO—ROBIN.My heart says, "You've a prosperous lot,With acres wide;You mean to settle all you've gotUpon your bride."It don't pretend to shape my actsBy word or sign;It merely states these simple facts,This heart of mine!SOLO—ROSE.Ten minutes since my heart said "white"—It now says "black".It then said "left"—it now says "right"—Hearts often tack.I must obey its latest strain—You tell me so. (To Richard.)But should it change its mind again,I'll let you know.(Turning from Richard to Robin, who embraces her.)ENSEMBLE.In sailing o'er life's ocean wideNo doubt the heart should be your guide;But it is awkward when you findA heart that does not know its mind!(Exeunt Robin with Rose L., and Richard, weeping, R.)(Enter Mad Margaret. She is wildly dressed in picturesque tatters,and is an obvious caricature of theatrical madness.)SCENA—MARGARET.Cheerily carols the larkOver the cot.Merrily whistles the clerkScratching a blot.But the larkAnd the clerk,I remark,Comfort me not!Over the ripening peachBuzzes the bee.Splash on the billowy beachTumbles the sea.But the peachAnd the beachThey are eachNothing to me!And why?Who am I?Daft Madge! Crazy Meg!Mad Margaret! Poor Peg!He! he! he! he! (chuckling).Mad, I?Yes, very!But why?Mystery!Don't call!Whisht! whisht!No crime—'Tis onlyThat I'mLove-lonely!That's all!BALLAD—MARGARET.To a garden full of posiesCometh one to gather flowers,And he wanders through its bowersToying with the wanton roses,Who, uprising from their beds,Hold on high their shameless headsWith their pretty lips a-pouting,Never doubting—never doubtingThat for Cytherean posiesHe would gather aught but roses!In a nest of weeds and nettlesLay a violet, half-hidden,Hoping that his glance unbiddenYet might fall upon her petals.Though she lived alone, apart,Hope lay nestling at her heart,But, alas, the cruel awakingSet her little heart a-breaking,For he gathered for his posiesOnly roses—only roses!(Bursts into tears.)(Enter Rose.)ROSE. A maiden, and in tears? Can I do aught to soften thysorrow? This apple—(offering apple).MAR. (Examines it and rejects it.) No! (Mysteriously.)Tell me, are you mad?ROSE. I? No! That is, I think not.MAR. That's well! Then you don't love Sir DespardMurgatroyd? All mad girls love him. I love him. I'm poor MadMargaret—Crazy Meg—Poor Peg! He! he! he! he! (chuckling).ROSE. Thou lovest the bad Baronet of Ruddigore? Oh,horrible—too horrible!MAR. You pity me? Then be my mother! The squirrel had amother, but she drank and the squirrel fled! Hush! They sing abrave song in our parts—it runs somewhat thus: (Sings.)"The cat and the dog and the little puppeeSat down in a—down in a—in a——I forget what they sat down in, but so the song goes!Listen—I've come to pinch her!ROSE. Mercy, whom?MAR. You mean "who".ROSE. Nay! it is the accusative after the verb.MAR. True. (Whispers melodramatically.) I have come topinch Rose Maybud!ROSE. (Aside, alarmed.) Rose Maybud!MAR. Aye! I love him—he loved me once. But that's allgone, fisht! He gave me an Italian glance—thus (business)—andmade me his. He will give her an Italian glance, and make herhis. But it shall not be, for I'll stamp on her—stamp on her--stamp on her! Did you ever kill anybody? No? Why not?Listen—I killed a fly this morning! It buzzed, and I wouldn'thave it. So it died—pop! So shall she!ROSE. But, behold, I am Rose Maybud, and I would fain notdie "pop."MAR. You are Rose Maybud?ROSE. Yes, sweet Rose Maybud!MAR. Strange! They told me she was beautiful! And heloves you! No, no! If I thought that, I would treat you as theauctioneer and land-agent treated the lady-bird—I would rend youasunder!ROSE. Nay, be pacified, for behold I am pledged to another,and lo, we are to be wedded this very day!MAR. Swear me that! Come to a Commissioner and let me haveit on affidavit! I once made an affidavit—but it died—it died--it died! But see, they come—Sir Despard and his evil crew!Hide, hide—they are all mad—quite mad!ROSE. What makes you think that?MAR. Hush! They sing choruses in public. That's madenough, I think. Go—hide away, or they will seize you! Hush!Quite softly—quite, quite softly!(Exeunt together, on tiptoe.)(Enter Chorus of Bucks and Blades, heralded by Chorus ofBridesmaids.)CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.Welcome, gentry,For your entrySets our tender hearts a-beating.Men of station,AdmirationPrompts this unaffected greeting.Hearty greeting offer we!CHORUS OF BUCKS AND BLADES.When thoroughly tiredOf being admired,By ladies of gentle degree—degree,With flattery sated,High-flown and inflated,Away from the city we flee—we flee!From charms intramuralTo prettiness ruralThe sudden transitionIs simply Elysian,So come, Amaryllis,Come, Chloe and Phyllis,Your slaves, for the moment, are we!ALL. From charms intramural, etc.CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.The sons of the tillageWho dwell in this villageAre people of lowly degree—degree.Though honest and active,They're most unattractive,And awkward as awkward can be—can be.They're clumsy clodhoppersWith axes and choppers,And shepherds and ploughmenAnd drovers and cowmen,And hedgers and reapersAnd carters and keepers,But never a lover for me!ENSEMBLE.BRIDESMAIDS. BUCKS AND BLADES.So welcome gentry, etc. When thoroughly tired, etc.(Enter Sir Despard Murgatroyd.)SONG AND CHORUS—SIR DESPARD.SIR D. Oh, why am I moody and sad?CH. Can't guess!SIR D. And why am I guiltily mad?CH. Confess!SIR D. Because I am thoroughly bad!CH. Oh yes—SIR D. You'll see it at once in my face.Oh, why am I husky and hoarse?CH. Ah, why?SIR D. It's the workings of conscience, of course.CH. Fie, fie!SIR D. And huskiness stands for remorse,CH. Oh my!SIR D. At least it does so in my case!SIR D. When in crime one is fully employed—CH. Like you—SIR D. Your expression gets warped and destroyed:CH. It do.SIR D. It's a penalty none can avoid;CH. How true!SIR D. I once was a nice-looking youth;But like stone from a strong catapult—CH. (explaining to each other). A trice—SIR D. I rushed at my terrible cult—CH. (explaining to each other). That's vice—SIR D. Observe the unpleasant result!CH. Not nice.SIR D. Indeed I am telling the truth!SIR D. Oh, innocent, happy though poor!CH. That's we—SIR D. If I had been virtuous, I'm sure—CH. Like me—SIR D. I should be as nice-looking as you're!CH. May be.SIR D. You are very nice-looking indeed!Oh, innocents, listen in time—CH. We doe,SIR D. Avoid an existence of crime—CH. Just so—SIR D. Or you'll be as ugly as I'm—CH. (loudly). No! No!SIR D. And now, if you please, we'll proceed.(All the girls express their horror of Sir Despard. As heapproaches them they fly from him, terror-stricken, leavinghim alone on the stage.)SIR D. Poor children, how they loathe me—me whose handsare certainly steeped in infamy, but whose heart is as the heartof a little child! But what is a poor baronet to do, when awhole picture gallery of ancestors step down from their framesand threaten him with an excruciating death if he hesitate tocommit his daily crime? But ha! ha! I am even with them!(Mysteriously.) I get my crime over the first thing in themorning, and then, ha! ha! for the rest of the day I do good—Ido good—I do good! (Melodramatically.) Two days since, I stolea child and built an orphan asylum. Yesterday I robbed a bankand endowed a bishopric. To-day I carry off Rose Maybud andatone with a cathedral! This is what it is to be the sport andtoy of a Picture Gallery! But I will be bitterly revenged uponthem! I will give them all to the Nation, and nobody shall everlook upon their faces again!(Enter Richard.)RICH. Ax your honour's pardon, but—SIR D. Ha! observed! And by a mariner! What would youwith me, fellow?RICH. Your honour, I'm a poor man-o'-war's-man, becalmed inthe doldrums—SIR D. I don't know them.RICH. And I make bold to ax your honour's advice. Doesyour honour know what it is to have a heart?SIR D. My honour knows what it is to have a completeapparatus for conducting the circulation of the blood through theveins and arteries of the human body.RICH. Aye, but has your honour a heart that ups and looksyou in the face, and gives you quarter-deck orders that it's lifeand death to disobey?SIR D. I have not a heart of that description, but I have aPicture Gallery that presumes to take that liberty.RICH. Well, your honour, it's like this—Your honour had anelder brother—SIR D. It had.RICH. Who should have inherited your title and, with it,its cuss.SIR D. Aye, but he died. Oh, Ruthven!—RICH. He didn't.SIR D. He did not?RICH. He didn't. On the contrary, he lives in this herevery village, under the name of Robin Oakapple, and he's a-goingto marry Rose Maybud this very day.SIR D. Ruthven alive, and going to marry Rose Maybud! Canthis be possible?RICH. Now the question I was going to ask your honour is--Ought I to tell your honour this?SIR D. I don't know. It's a delicate point. I think youought. Mind, I'm not sure, but I think so.RICH. That's what my heart says. It says, "Dick," it says(it calls me Dick acos it's entitled to take that liberty), "thatthere young gal would recoil from him if she knowed what hereally were. Ought you to stand off and on, and let this younggal take this false step and never fire a shot across her bows tobring her to? No," it says, "you did not ought." And I won'tought, accordin'.SIR D. Then you really feel yourself at liberty to tell methat my elder brother lives—that I may charge him with his crueldeceit, and transfer to his shoulders the hideous thraldom underwhich I have laboured for so many years! Free—free at last!Free to live a blameless life, and to die beloved and regrettedby all who knew me!DUET—SIR DESPARD and RICHARD.RICH. You understand?SIR D. I think I do;With vigour unshakenThis step shall be taken.It's neatly planned.RICH. I think so too;I'll readily bet itYou'll never regret it!BOTH. For duty, duty must be done;The rule applies to every one,And painful though that duty be,To shirk the task were fiddle-de-dee!SIR D. The bridegroom comes—RICH. Likewise the bride—The maidens are veryElated and merry;They are her chums.SIR D. To lash their prideWere almost a pity,The pretty committee!BOTH. But duty, duty must be done;The rule applies to every one,And painful though that duty be,To shirk the task were fiddle-de-dee!(Exeunt Richard and Sir Despard.)(Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids and Bucks.)CHORUS OF BRIDESMAIDS.Hail the bride of seventeen summers:In fair phrasesHymn her praises;Lift your song on high, all comers.She rejoicesIn your voices.Smiling summer beams upon her,Shedding every blessing on her:Maidens greet her—Kindly treat her—You may all be brides some day!CHORUS OF BUCKS.Hail the bridegroom who advances,Agitated,Yet elated.He's in easy circumstances,Young and lusty,True and trusty.ALL. Smiling summer beams upon her, etc.(Enter Robin, attended by Richard and Old Adam, meeting Rose,attended by Zorah and Dame Hannah. Rose and Robin embrace.)MADRIGAL.ROSE, DAME HANNAH, RICHARD, OLD ADAM with CHORUS.ROSE. When the buds are blossoming,Smiling welcome to the spring,Lovers choose a wedding day—Life is love in merry May!GIRLS. Spring is green—Fal lal la!Summer's rose—Fal lal la!QUARTET. It is sad when summer goes,Fa la!MEN. Autumn's gold—Fah lal la!Winter's grey—Fah lal la!QUARTET. Winter still is far away—Fa la!CHORUS. Leaves in autumn fade and fall,Winter is the end of all.Spring and summer teem with glee:Spring and summer, then, for me!Fa la!HANNAH. In the spring-time seed is sown:In the summer grass is mown:In the autumn you may reap:Winter is the time for sleep.GIRLS. Spring is hope—Fal lal la!Summer's joy—Fal lal la!QUARTET. Spring and summer never cloy.Fa la!MEN. Autumn,toil—Fal lal la!Winter, rest—Fal lal la!QUARTET. Winter, after all, is best—Fal la!CHORUS. Spring and summer pleasure you,Autumn, aye, and winter too—Every season has its cheer,Life is lovely all the year!Fa la!(Gavotte.)(After Gavotte, enter Sir Despard.)SIR D. Hold, bride and bridegroom, ere you wed each other,I claim young Robin as my elder brother!His rightful title I have long enjoyed:I claim him as Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd!CHORUS. O wonder!ROSE (wildly). Deny the falsehood, Robin, as you should,It is a plot!ROB. I would, if conscientiously I could,But I cannot!CHORUS. Ah, base one! Ah, base one!SOLO—ROBIN.As pure and blameless peasant,I cannot, I regret,Deny a truth unpleasant,I am that Baronet!CHORUS. He is that Baronet!ROBIN. But when completely ratedBad Baronet am I,That I am what he's statedI'll recklessly deny!CHORUS. He'll recklessly deny!ROB. When I'm a bad Bart. I will tell taradiddles!CHORUS. He'll tell taradiddles when he's a bad Bart.ROB. I'll play a bad part on the falsest of fiddles.CHORUS. On very false fiddles he'll play a bad part!ROB. But until that takes place I must be conscientious—CHORUS. He'll be conscientious until that takes place.ROB. Then adieu with good grace to my morals sententious!CHORUS. To morals sententious adieu with good grace!ZOR. Who is the wretch who hath betrayed thee?Let him stand forth!RICH. (coming forward). 'Twas I!ALL. Die, traitor!RICH. Hold! my conscience made me!Withhold your wrath!SOLO—RICHARD.Within this breast there beats a heartWhose voice can't be gainsaid.It bade me thy true rank impart,And I at once obeyed.I knew 'twould blight thy budding fate—I knew 'twould cause thee anguish great—But did I therefore hesitate?No! I at once obeyed!ALL. Acclaim him who, when his true heartBade him young Robin's rank impart,Immediately obeyed!SOLO—ROSE (addressing Robin).Farewell!Thou hadst my heart—'Twas quickly won!But now we part—Thy face I shun!Farewell!Go bend the kneeAt Vice's shrine,Of life with meAll hope resign.Farewell! Farewell! Farewell!(To Sir Despard.) Take me—I am thy bride!BRIDESMAIDS.Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!When the nuptial knot is tied;Every day will bring some joyThat can never, never cloy!(Enter Margaret, who listens.)SIR D. Excuse me, I'm a virtuous person now—ROSE. That's why I wed you!SIR D. And I to Margaret must keep my vow!MAR. Have I misread you?Oh, joy! with newly kindled rapture warmed,I kneel before you! (Kneels.)SIR D. I once disliked you; now that I've reformed,How I adore you! (They embrace.)BRIDESMAIDS.Hail the Bridegroom-hail the Bride!When the nuptial knot is tied;Every day will bring some joyThat can never, never cloy!ROSE. Richard, of him I love bereft,Through thy design,Thou art the only one that's left,So I am thine! (They embrace.)BRIDESMAIDS.Hail the Bridegroom—hail the Bride!Let the nuptial knot be tied!DUET—ROSE and RICHARD.Oh, happy the lilyWhen kissed by the bee;And, sipping tranquilly,Quite happy is he;And happy the fillyThat neighs in her pride;But happier than any,A pound to a penny,A lover is, when heEmbraces his bride!DUET—SIR DESPARD and MARGARET.Oh, happy the flowersThat blossom in June,And happy the bowersThat gain by the boon,But happier by hoursThe man of descent,Who, folly regretting,Is bent on forgettingHis bad baronetting,And means to repent!TRIO—HANNAH, ADAM, and ZORAH.Oh, happy the blossomThat blooms on the lea,Likewise the opossumThat sits on a tree,But when you come across 'em,They cannot compareWith those who are treadingThe dance at a wedding,While people are spreadingThe best of good fare!SOLO—ROBIN.Oh, wretched the debtorWho's signing a deed!And wretched the letterThat no one can read!But very much betterTheir lot it must beThan that of the personI'm making this verse on,Whose head there's a curse on—Alluding to me!Repeat ensemble with Chorus.(Dance)(At the end of the dance Robin falls senseless on the stage.Picture.)END OF ACT I