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_ ACT I
[Scene.-- Tower Green]
[Phoebe discovered spinning.]
[No. 1. When maiden loves, she sits and sighs
(INTRODUCTION and SONG)
Phoebe]
PHOEBE.
When maiden loves, she sits and sighs,
She wanders to and fro;
Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes,
And to all questions she replies,
With a sad "Heigh-ho!"
'Tis but a little word--"Heigh-ho!"
So soft, 'tis scarcely heard--"Heigh-ho!"
An idle breath--
Yet life and death
May hang upon a maid's "Heigh-ho!"
When maiden loves, she mopes apart,
As owl mopes on a tree;
Although she keenly feels the smart,
She cannot tell what ails her heart,
With its sad "Ah, me!"
'Tis but a foolish sigh--"Ah, me!"
Born but to droop and die--"Ah, me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
"Ah, me!", "Ah, me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
[PHOEBE weeps]
[Enter WILFRED]
WILFRED.
Mistress Meryll!
PHOEBE.
[looking up]
Eh! Oh! it's you, is it? You may go
away,if you like. Because I don't want you, you know.
WILFRED.
Haven't you anything to say to me?
PHOEBE.
Oh yes! Are the birds all caged? The wild beasts all
littered down? All the locks, chains, bolts, and bars
in good order? Is the Little Ease sufficiently
comfortable? The racks, pincers, and thumbscrews all
ready for work? Ugh! you brute!
WILFRED.
These allusions to my professional duties are in
doubtful taste. I didn't become a head-jailer because
I like head-jailing. I didn't become an assistant-
tormentor because I like assistant-tormenting. We
can't all be sorcerers, you know. [PHOEBE is annoyed]
Ah! you brought that upon yourself.
PHOEBE.
Colonel Fairfax is not a sorcerer. He's a man of
science and an alchemist.
WILFRED.
Well, whatever he is, he won't be one for long, for
he's to be beheaded to-day for dealings with the
devil. His master nearly had him last night, when the
fire broke out in the Beauchamp [pronounced Bee'cham] Tower.
PHOEBE.
Oh! how I wish he had escaped in the confusion! But
take care; there's still time for a reply to his
petition for mercy.
WILFRED.
Ah! I'm content to chance that. This evening at half-
past seven-- ah!
[Gesture of chopping off a head.]
PHOEBE.
You're a cruel monster to speak so unfeelingly of the
death of a young and handsome soldier.
WILFRED.
Young and handsome! How do you know he's young and
handsome?
PHOEBE.
Because I've seen him every day for weeks past taking
his exercise on the Beauchamp
[pronounced Bee'cham]
Tower.
WILFRED.
Curse him!
PHOEBE.
There, I believe you're jealous of him, now. Jealous
of a man I've never spoken to! Jealous of a poor soul
who's to die in an hour!
WILFRED.
I am! I'm jealous of everybody and everything. I'm
jealous of the very words I speak to you-- because they
reach your ears-- and I mustn't go near 'em!
PHOEBE.
How unjust you are! Jealous of the words you speak to
me! Why, you know as well as I do that I don't even
like them.
WILFRED.
You used to like 'em.
PHOEBE.
I used to pretend I like them. It was mere politeness
to comparative strangers.
[Exit PHOEBE, with spinning wheel]
WILFRED.
I don't believe you know what jealousy is! I don't
believe you know how it eats into a man's heart-- and
disorders his digestion-- and turns his interior into
boiling lead. Oh, you are a heartless jade to trifle
with the delicate organization of the human interior.
[No. 1A. When jealous torments
(OPTIONAL SONG)
Wilfred]
WILFRED.
When jealous torments rack my soul,
My agonies I can't control,
Oh, better sit on red hot coal
Than love a heartless jade.
The red hot coal will hurt no doubt,
But red hot coals in time die out,
But jealousy you can not rout,
Its fires will never fade.
It's much less painful on the whole
To go and sit on red hot coal
'Til you're completely flayed,
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade,
Than love a heartless jade.
The kerchief on your neck of snow
I look on as a deadly foe,
It goeth where I dare not go
And stops there all day long.
The belt that holds you in its grasp
Is to my peace of mind a rasp,
It claspeth what I can not clasp,
Correct me if I'm wrong.
It's much less painful on the whole
To go and sit on red hot coal
'Til you're completely flayed,
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade,
Than love a heartless jade.
The bird that breakfasts on your lip,
I would I had him in my grip,
He sippeth where I dare not sip,
I can't get over that.
The cat you fondle soft and sly,
He layeth where I dare not lie.
We're not on terms, that cat and I.
I do not like that cat.
It's much less painful on the whole
To go and sit on red hot coal
'Til you're completely flayed,
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade,
Than love a heartless jade.
Or ask a kindly friend to crack
Your wretched bones upon the rack
Than love a heartless jade.
[Exit WILFRED. Enter people excitedly, followed by YEOMEN
of the Guard with SERGEANT MERYLL at rear.]
[No. 2. Tower warders, Under orders
(Double Chorus)
CROWD and YEOMEN, with Solo 2ND YEOMEN]
CROWD.
Tower warders,
Under orders,
Gallant pikemen, valiant sworders!
Brave in bearing,
Foemen scaring,
In their bygone days of daring!
Ne'er a stranger
There to danger--
Each was o'er the world a ranger;
To the story
Of our glory
Each a bold, a bold contributory!
YEOMEN.
In the autumn of our life,
Here at rest in ample clover,
We rejoice in telling over
Our impetuous May and June.
In the evening of our day,
With the sun of life declining,
We recall without repining
All the heat of bygone noon,
We recall without repining
All the heat,
We recall, recall
All of bygone noon.
2ND YEOMAN.
This the autumn of our life,
This the evening of our day;
Weary we of battle strife,
Weary we of mortal fray.
But our year is not so spent,
And our days are not so faded,
But that we with one consent,
Were our loved land invaded,
Still would face a foreign foe,
As in days of long ago,
Still would face a foreign foe,
As in days of long ago,
As in days of long ago,
As in days of long ago.
YEOMEN.
Still would face a foreign foe,
As in days of long ago.
CROWD.
Tower warders,
Under orders,
Gallant pikemen, valiant sworders!
Brave in bearing, Foemen scaring,
In their bygone days of daring!
CROWD. YEOMEN.Tower warders, This the autumn of our life
Under orders,
Gallant pikemen,
Valiant sworders
Brave in bearing, This the evening of our day;
Foemen scaring,
In their bygone days of daring!
Ne'er a stranger Weary we of battle strife,
There to danger
Each was o'er the world a ranger:
To the story Weary we of mortal fray.
Of our glory
Each a bold,
A bold contributory.
To the story This the autumn of our life.
Of our glory
Each a bold contributory! This the evening of our day,
Each a bold contributory! This the evening of our day.
[
Exit CROWD. Manent YEOMEN. Enter DAME CARRUTHERS.]
DAME.
A good day to you!
2ND YEOMAN..
Good day, Dame Carruthers. Busy to-day?
DAME.
Busy, aye! the fire in the Beauchamp [pronounced
Bee'cham] last night has given me work enough. A dozen
poor prisoners-- Richard Colfax, Sir Martin Byfleet,
Colonel Fairfax, Warren the preacher-poet, and half-a-
score others-- all packed into one small cell, not six
feet square. Poor Colonel Fairfax, who's to die to-
day, is to be removed to no. 14 in the Cold Harbour
that he may have his last hour alone with his
confessor; and I've to see to that.
2ND YEOMAN.
Poor gentleman! He'll die bravely. I fought under him
two years since, and he valued his life as it were a
feather!
PHOEBE.
He's the bravest, the handsomest, and the best young
gentleman in England! He twice saved my father's life;
and it's a cruel thing, a wicked thing, and a
barbarous thing that so gallant a hero should lose his
head-- for it's the handsomest head in England!
DAME.
For dealings with the devil. Aye! if all were beheaded
who dealt with him, there'd be busy things on Tower
Green.
PHOEBE.
You know very well that Colonel Fairfax is a student
of alchemy-- nothing more, and nothing less; but this
wicked Tower, like a cruel giant in a fairy-tale, must
be fed with blood, and that blood must be the best and
bravest in England, or it's not good enough for the
old Blunderbore. Ugh!
DAME.
Silence, you silly girl; you know not what you say. I
was born in the old keep, and I've grown grey in it,
and, please God, I shall die and be buried in it; and
there's not a stone in its walls that is not as dear
tome as my right hand.
[No. 3. When our gallant Norman foes
(SONG WITH CHORUS)
Dame Carruthers and Yeomen]
DAME.
When our gallant Norman foes
Made our merry land their own,
And the Saxons from the Conqueror were flying,
At his bidding it arose,
In its panoply of stone,
A sentinel unliving and undying.
Insensible, I trow,
As a sentinel should be,
Though a queen to save her head should
come a-suing,
There's a legend on its brow
That is eloquent to me,
And it tells of duty done and duty doing.
The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
CHORUS.
The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
DAME.
Within its wall of rock
The flower of the brave
Have perished with a constancy unshaken.
From the dungeon to the block,
From the scaffold to the grave,
Is a journey many gallant hearts have taken.
And the wicked flames may hiss
Round the heroes who have fought
For conscience and for home in all its beauty,
But the grim old fortalice
Takes little heed of aught
That comes not in the measure of its duty.
The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
CHORUS.
The screw may twist and the rack may turn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
And men may bleed and men may burn,
O'er London town and all its hoard,
O'er London town and its golden hoard
I keep my silent watch and ward!
[Exeunt all but PHOEBE. Enter SERGEANT MERYLL.]
PHOEBE.
Father! Has no reprieve arrived for the poor
gentleman?
MERYLL.
No, my lass; but there's one hope yet. Thy brother
Leonard, who, as a reward for his valour in saving his
standard and cutting his way through fifty foes who
would have hanged him, has been appointed a Yeoman of
the Guard, will arrive to-day; and as he comes
straight from Windsor, where the Court is, it may be--
it may be-- that he will bring the expected reprieve
with him.
PHOEBE.
Oh, that he may!
MERYLL.
Amen to that! For the Colonel twice saved my life, and
I'd give the rest of my life to save his! And wilt
thou not be glad to welcome thy brave brother, with
the fame of whose exploits all England is a-ringing?
PHOEBE.
Aye, truly, if he brings the reprieve.
MERYLL.
And not otherwise?
PHOEBE.
Well, he's a brave fellow indeed, and I love brave
men.
MERYLL.
All brave men?
PHOEBE.
Most of them, I verily believe! But I hope Leonard
will not be too strict with me-- they say he is a very
dragon of virtue and circumspection! Now, my dear old
father is kindness itself, and----
MERYLL.
And leaves thee pretty well to thine own ways, eh?
Well, I've no fears for thee; thou hast a feather-
brain, but thou'rt a good lass.
PHOEBE.
Yes, that's all very well, but if Leonard is going to
tell me that I may not do this and I may not do that,
and I must not talk to this one, or walk with that
one, but go through the world with my lips pursed up
and my eyes cats down, like a poor nun who has
renounced mankind-- why, as I have not renounced
mankind, and don't mean to renounce mankind, I won't
have it-- there!
MERYLL.
Nay, he'll not check thee more than is good for thee,
Phoebe! He's a brave fellow, and bravest among brave
fellows, and yet it seems but yesterday that he robbed
the Lieutenant's orchard.
[No. 3A. A laughing boy
(OPTIONAL SONG)
Sergeant Meryll]
MERYLL.
A laughing boy but yesterday,
A merry urchin blithe and gay,
Whose joyous shout came ringing out
Unchecked by care or sorrow.
Today a warrior all sunbrown,
When deeds of soldierly renown
Are not the boast of London town,
A veteran tomorrow, today a warrior,
A veteran tomorrow!
When at my Leonard's deeds sublime,
A soldier's pulse beats double time,
And grave hearts thrill as brave hearts will
At tales of martial glory.
I burn with flush of pride and joy,
A pride unbittered by alloy,
To find my boy, my darling boy,
The theme of song and story,
To find my darling boy
The theme of song and story!
To find my boy, my darling boy,
The theme of song and story!
[Enter LEONARD MERYLL]
LEONARD.
Father!
MERYLL.
Leonard! my brave boy! I'm right glad to see thee, and
so is Phoebe!
PHOEBE.
Aye-- hast thou brought Colonel Fairfax's reprieve?
LEONARD.
Nay, I have here a despatch for the Lieutenant, but no
reprieve for the Colonel!
PHOEBE.
Poor gentleman! poor gentleman!
LEONARD.
Aye, I would I had brought better news. I'd give my
right hand-- nay, my body-- my life, to save his!
MERYLL.
Dost thou speak in earnest, my lad?
LEONARD.
Aye, father-- I'm no braggart. Did he not save thy
life? and am I not his foster-brother?
MERYLL.
Then hearken to me. Thou hast come to join the Yeomen
of the Guard!
LEONARD.
Well?
MERYLL.
None has seen thee but ourselves?
LEONARD.
And a sentry, who took scant notice of me.
MERYLL.
Now to prove thy words. Give me the despatch and get
thee hence at once! Here is money, and I'll send thee
more. Lie hidden for a space, and let no one know.
I'll convey a suit of Yeoman's uniform to the
Colonel's cell-- he shall shave off his beard, so that
none shall know him, and I'll own him as my son, the
brave Leonard Meryll, who saved his flag and cut his
way through fifty foes who thirsted for his life. He
will be welcomed without question by my brother-
Yeomen, I'll warrant that. Now, how to get access to
the Colonel's cell? [To PHOEBE] The key is with they
sour-faced admirer, Wilfred Shadbolt.
PHOEBE.
[demurely]
I think-- I say, I think-- I can get anything
I want from Wilfred. I think-- mind I say, I think-- you
may leave that to me.
MERYLL.
Then get thee hence at once, lad-- and bless thee for
this sacrifice.
PHOEBE.
And take my blessing, too, dear, dear Leonard!
LEONARD.
And thine. eh? Humph! Thy love is newborn; wrap it up
carefully, lest it take cold and die.
[No. 4. Alas! I waver to and fro
(TRIO)
Phoebe, Leonard, and Meryll]
PHOEBE.
Alas! I waver to and fro!
Dark danger hangs upon the deed!
ALL.
Dark danger hangs upon the deed!
LEONARD.
The scheme is rash and well may fail;
But ours are not the hearts that quail,
The hands that shrink, the cheeks that pale
In hours of need!
ALL.
No, ours are not the hearts that quail,
The hands that shrink, the cheeks that pale
The hands that shrink, the cheeks that pale
In hours of need!
MERYLL.
The air I breathe to him I owe:
My life is his-- I count it naught!
PHOEBE.
and LEONARD That life is his-- so count it naught!
MERYLL.
And shall I reckon risks I run
When services are to be done
To save the life of such an one?
Unworthy thought! Unworthy thought!
PHOEBE.
and LEONARD And shall we reckon risks we run
To save the life of such an one?
ALL.
Unworthy thought! Unworthy thought!
We may succeed-- who can foretell?
May heav'n help our hope--
May heav'n help our hope,
farewell!
May heav'n help our hope,
Help our hope,
farewell!
[LEONARD embraces MERYLL and PHOEBE, and then exits. PHOEBE weeping.]
MERYLL.
[goes up to PHOEBE]
Nay, lass, be of good cheer, we
may save him yet.
PHOEBE.
Oh! see, after-- they bring the poor gentleman from the
Beauchamp! [pronounced Bee'cham] Oh, father! his hour
is not yet come?
MERYLL.
No, no-- they lead him to the Cold Harbour Tower to
await his end in solitude. But softly-- the Lieutenant
approaches! He should not see thee weep.
[Enter FAIRFAX, guarded by YEOMEN.
The LIEUTENANT enters, meeting him.]
LIEUT.
Halt! Colonel Fairfax, my old friend, we meet but sadly.
FAIRFAX.
Sir, I greet you with all good-will; and I thank you
for the zealous acre with which you have guarded me
from the pestilent dangers which threaten human life
outside. In this happy little community, Death, when
he comes, doth so in punctual and business-like
fashion; and, like a courtly gentleman, giveth due
notice of his advent, that one may not be taken
unawares.
LIEUT.
Sir, you bear this bravely, as a brave man should.
FAIRFAX.
Why, sir, it is no light boon to die swiftly and
surely at a given hour and in a given fashion! Truth
to tell, I would gladly have my life; but if that may
not be, I have the next best thing to it, which is
death. Believe me, sir, my lot is not so much amiss!
PHOEBE.
[aside to MERYLL]
Oh, father, father, I cannot bear it!
MERYLL.
My poor lass!
FAIRFAX.
Nay, pretty one, why weepest thou? Come, be comforted.
Such a life as mine is not worth weeping for.
[sees MERYLL]
Sergeant Meryll, is it not?
[to LIEUTENANT]
May I greet my old friend?
[Shakes MERYLL's hand; MERYLL begins to weep]
Why, man, what's all this? Thou
and I have faced the grim old king a dozen times, and
never has his majesty come to me in such goodly
fashion. Keep a stout heart, good fellow-- we are
soldiers, and we know how to die, thou and I. Take my
word for it, it is easier to die well than to live
well-- for, in sooth, I have tried both.
[No. 5. Is life a boon?
(BALLAD)
Fairfax]
FAIRFAX.
Is life a boon?
If so, it must befall
That Death, whene'er he call,
Must call too soon.
Though fourscore years he give,
Yet one would pray to live
Another moon!
What kind of plaint have I,
Who perish in July,
who perish in July?
I might have had to die,
Perchance, in June!
I might have had to die,
Perchance, in June!
Is life a thorn?
Then count it not a whit!
Nay, count it not a whit!
Man is well done with it;
Soon as he's born
He should all means essay
To put the plague away;
And I, war-worn,
Poor captured fugitive,
My life most gladly give--
I might have had to live,
Another morn!
I might have had to live,
Another morn!
[At the end, PHOEBE is led off, weeping, by MERYLL.]
FAIRFAX.
And now, Sir Richard, I have a boon to beg. I am in
this strait for no better reason than because my
kinsman, Sir Clarence Poltwhistle, one of the
Secretaries of State, has charged me with sorcery, in
order that he may succeed in my estate, which devolves
to him provided I die unmarried.
LIEUT.
As thou wilt most surely do.
FAIRFAX.
Nay, as I will most surely not do, by your worship's
grace! I have a mind to thwart this good cousin of mine.
LIEUT.
How?
FAIRFAX.
By marrying forthwith, to be sure!
LIEUT.
But heaven ha' mercy, whom wouldst thou marry?
FAIRFAX.
Nay, I am indifferent on that score. Coming Death hath
made of me a true and chivalrous knight, who holds all
womankind in such esteem that the oldest, and the
meanest, and the worst-favoured of them is good enough
for him. So, my good Lieutenant, if thou wouldst serve
a poor soldier who has but an hour to live, find me
the first that comes-- my confessor shall marry us, and
her dower shall be my dishonoured name and a hundred
crowns to boot. No such poor dower for an hour of
matrimony!
LIEUT.
A strange request. I doubt that I should be warranted
in granting it.
FAIRFAX.
There never was a marriage fraught with so little of
evil to the contracting parties. In an hour she'll be
a widow, and I-- a bachelor again for aught I know!
LIEUT.
Well, I will see what can be done, for I hold thy
kinsman in abhorrence for the scurvy trick he has
played thee.
FAIRFAX.
A thousand thanks, good sir; we meet again in this
spot in an hour or so. I shall be a bridegroom then,
and your worship will wish me joy. Till then,
farewell.
[To GUARD]
I am ready, good fellows.
[Exit with GUARD into Cold Harbour Tower]
LIEUT.
He is a brave fellow, and it is a pity that he should
die. Now, how to find him a bride at such short
notice? Well, the task should be easy! [Exit]
[Enter JACK POINT and ELSIE MAYNARD, pursued by a CROWD of
men and women. POINT and ELSIE are much terrified; POINT,
however, assuming an appearance of self-possession.]
[No. 6. Here's a man of jollity
(CHORUS)
People, Elsie, and Jack Point]
CHORUS.
Here's a man of jollity,
Jibe, joke, jollify!
Give us of your quality,
Come, fool, follify!
If you vapour vapidly,
River runneth rapidly,
Into it we fling
Bird who doesn't sing!
Give us an experiment
In the art of merriment;
Into it we throw
Cock who doesn't crow!
Banish your timidity,
And with all rapidity
Give us quip and quiddity--
Willy-nilly, O!
River none can mollify;
Into it we throw
Fool who doesn't follify,
Cock who doesn't crow!
Banish your timidity,
And with all rapidity
Give us quip and quiddity--
Willy-nilly, O!
POINT.
[alarmed]
My masters, I pray you bear with us, and we
will satisfy you, for we are merry folk who would make
all merry as ourselves. For, look you, there is humour
in all things, and the truest philosophy is that which
teaches us to find it and to make the most of it.
ELSIE.
[struggling with 1ST CITIZEN]
Hands off, I say,
unmannerly fellow!
[she boxes his ears]
POINT.
[to 1ST CITIZEN]
Ha! Didst thou hear her say, "Hands off"?
1ST CITIZEN.
Aye, I heard her say it, and I felt her do it! What then?
POINT.
Thou dost not see the humour of that?
1ST CITIZEN.
Nay, if I do, hang me!
POINT.
Thou dost not? Now, observe. She said, "Hands off!
"Whose hands? Thine. Off whom? Off her. Why? Because
she is a woman. Now, had she not been a woman, thine
hands had not been set upon her at all. So the reason
for the laying on of hands is the reason for the
taking off of hands, and herein is contradiction
contradicted! It is the very marriage of pro with con;
and no such lopsided union either, as times go, for
pro is not more unlike con than man is unlike woman--
yet men and women marry every day with none to say,
"Oh, the pity of it!" but I and fools like me! Now
wherewithal shall we please you? We can rhyme you
couplet, triolet, quatrain, sonnet,rondolet, ballade,
what you will. Or we can dance you saraband, gondolet,
carole, pimpernel, or Jumping Joan.
ELSIE.
Let us give them the singing farce of the Merryman and
his Maid-- therein is song and dance too.
ALL.
Aye, the Merryman and his Maid!
[No. 7. I have a song to sing, O!
(DUET)
Elsie and Point]
POINT.
I have a song to sing, O!
ELSIE.
Sing me your song, O!
POINT.
It is sung to the moon
By a love-lorn loon,
Who fled from the mocking throng, O!
It's a song of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
ELSIE.
I have a song to sing, O!
POINT.
Sing me your song, O!
ELSIE.
It is sung with the ring
Of the songs maids sing
Who love with a love life-long, O!
It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
POINT.
I have a song to sing, O!
ELSIE.
Sing me your song, O!
POINT.
It is sung to the knell
Of a churchyard bell,
And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O!
It's a song of a popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
ELSIE.
I have a song to sing, O!
POINT.
Sing me your song, O!
ELSIE.
It is sung with a sigh
And a tear in the eye,
For it tells of a righted wrong, O!
It's a song of the merrymaid, once so gay,
Who turned on her heel and tripped away
From the peacock popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble heart that he did not prize:
So she begged on her knees, with downcast eyes,
For the love of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
BOTH.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more,
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me--lack-a-day-dee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more,
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
1ST CITIZEN.
Well sung and well danced!
2ND CITIZEN.
A kiss for that, pretty maid!
ALL.
Aye, a kiss all round.
[CROWD gathers around her]
ELSIE.
[drawing dagger]
Best beware! I am armed!
POINT.
Back, sirs-- back! This is going too far.
2ND CITIZEN.
Thou dost not see the humour of it, eh? Yet there is
humour in all things-- even in this.
[Trying to kiss her]
ELSIE.
Help! Help!
[Enter LIEUTENANT with GUARD. CROWD falls back]
LIEUT.
What is the pother?
ELSIE.
Sir, we sang to these folk, and they would have repaid
us with gross courtesy, but for your honour's coming.
LIEUT.
[to CROWD]
Away with ye! Clear the rabble.
[GUARDS push CROWD off, and go off with them]
Now, my girl, who are you, and what do you here?
ELSIE.
May it please you, sir, we are two strolling players,
Jack Point and I, Elsie Maynard, at your worship's
service. We go from fair to fair, singing, and
dancing, and playing brief interludes; and so we make
a poor living.
LIEUT.
You two, eh? Are ye man and wife?
POINT.
No, sir; for though I'm a fool, there is a limit to my
folly. Her mother, old Bridget Maynard, travels with
us (for Elsie is a good girl), but the old woman is a-
bed with fever, and we have come here to pick up some
silver to buy an electuary for her.
LIEUT.
Hark ye, my girl! Your mother is ill?
ELSIE.
Sorely ill, sir.
LIEUT.
And needs good food, and many things that thou canst not buy?
ELSIE.
Alas! sir, it is too true.
LIEUT.
Wouldst thou earn an hundred crowns?
ELSIE.
An hundred crowns! They might save her life!
LIEUT.
Then listen! A worthy but unhappy gentleman is to be
beheaded in an hour on this very spot. For sufficient
reasons, he desires to marry before he dies, and he
hath asked me to find him a wife. Wilt thou be that wife?
ELSIE.
The wife of a man I have never seen!
POINT.
Why, sir, look you, I am concerned in this; for though
I am not yet wedded to Elsie Maynard, time works
wonders, and there's no knowing what may be in store
for us. Have we your worship's word for it that this
gentleman will die to-day?
LIEUT.
Nothing is more certain, I grieve to say.
POINT.
And that the maiden will be allowed to depart the very
instant the ceremony is at an end?
LIEUT.
The very instant. I pledge my honour that it shall be so.
POINT.
An hundred crowns?
LIEUT.
An hundred crowns!
POINT.
For my part, I consent. It is for Elsie to speak.
[No. 8. How say you, maiden, will you wed
(TRIO)
Elsie, Point, and Lieutenant]
LIEUT.
How say you, maiden, will you wed
A man about to lose his head?
For half an hour
You'll be his wife,
And then the dower
Is your for life.
A headless bridegroom why refuse?
If truth the poets tell,
Most bridegrooms, 'ere they marry,
Lose both head and heart as well!
ELSIE.
A strange proposal you reveal,
It almost makes my senses reel.
Alas! I'm very poor indeed,
And such a sum I sorely need.
My mother, sir, is like to die.
This money life may bring.
Bear this in mind, I pray,
If I consent to do this thing!
POINT.
Though as a general rule of life
I don't allow my promised wife,
My lovely bride that is to be,
To marry anyone but me,
Yet if the fee is promptly paid,
And he, in well-earned grave,
Within the hour is duly laid,
Objection I will waive!
Yes, objection I will waive!
ALL.
Temptation, oh, temptation,
Were we, I pray, intended
To shun, what e'er our station,
Your fascinations splendid;
Or fall, whene'er we view you,
Head over heels into you?
Head over heels, Head over heels,
Head over heels into you!
Head over heels, Head over heels,
Head over heels, Right into you!
Head over heels, Head over heels, etc.
Temptation, oh, temptation!
[During this, the LIEUTENANT has whispered to WILFRED
(who has entered). WILFRED binds ELSIE's eyes with a
kerchief, and leads her into the Cold Harbour Tower]
LIEUT.
And so, good fellow, you are a jester?
POINT.
Aye, sir, and like some of my jests, out of place.
LIEUT.
I have a vacancy for such an one. Tell me, what are
your qualifications for such a post?
POINT.
Marry, sir, I have a pretty wit. I can rhyme you
extempore; I can convulse you with quip and
conundrum;I have the lighter philosophies at my
tongue's tip; I can be merry, wise, quaint, grim, and
sardonic, one by one, or all at once; I have a pretty
turn for anecdote; I know all the jests-- ancient and
modern-- past, present, and to come; I can riddle you
from dawn of day to set of sun, and, if that content
you not, well on to midnight and the small hours. Oh,
sir, a pretty wit, I warrant you-- a pretty, pretty wit!
[No. 9. I've jibe and joke
(SONG)
Point]
POINT.
I've jibe and joke
And quip and crank
For lowly folk
And men of rank.
I ply my craft
And know no fear.
But aim my shaft
At prince or peer.
At peer or prince-- at prince or peer,
I aim my shaft and know no fear!
I've wisdom from the East and from the West,
That's subject to no academic rule;
You may find it in the jeering of a jest,
Or distil it from the folly of a fool.
I can teach you with a quip, if I've a mind;
I can trick you into learning with a laugh;
Oh, winnow all my folly, folly, folly, and you'll find
A grain or two of truth among the chaff!
Oh, winnow all my folly, folly, folly, and you'll find
A grain or two of truth among the chaff!
I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,
The upstart I can wither with a whim;
He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,
But his laughter has an echo that is grim.
When they're offered to the world in merry guise,
Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will,
For he who'd make his fellow,
fellow, fellow creatures wise
Should always gild the philosophic pill!
For he who'd make his fellow,
fellow, fellow creatures wise
Should always gild the philosophic pill!
LIEUT.
And how came you to leave your last employ?
POINT.
Why, sir, it was in this wise. My Lord was the
Archbishop of Canterbury, and it was considered that
one of my jokes was unsuited to His Grace's family
circle. In truth, I ventured to ask a poor riddle,
sir-- Wherein lay the difference between His Grace and
poor Jack Point? His Grace was pleased to give it up,
sir. And thereupon I told him that whereas His Grace
was paid 10,000 a year for being good, poor Jack Point
was good-- for nothing. 'Twas but a harmless jest, but
it offended His Grace, who whipped me and set me in
the stocks for a scurril rogue, and so we parted. I
had as lief not take post again with the dignified clergy.
LIEUT.
But I trust you are very careful not to give offence.
I have daughters.
POINT.
Sir, my jests are most carefully selected, and
anything objectionable is expunged. If your honour
pleases, I will try then first on your honour's
chaplain.
LIEUT.
Can you give me an example? Say that I had sat me down
hurriedly on something sharp?
POINT.
Sir, I should say that you had sat down on the spur of
the moment.
LIEUT.
Humph! I don't think much of that. Is that the best
you can do?
POINT.
It has always been much admired, sir, but we will try
again.
LIEUT.
Well, then, I am at dinner, and the joint of meat is
but half cooked.
POINT.
Why then, sir, I should say that what is underdone
cannot be helped.
LIEUT.
I see. I think that manner of thing would be somewhat
irritating.
POINT.
At first, sir, perhaps; but use is everything, and you
would come in time to like it.
LIEUT.
We will suppose that I caught you kissing the kitchen
wench under my very nose.
POINT.
Under her very nose, good sir-- not under yours! That
is where I would kiss her. Do you take me? Oh, sir, a
pretty wit-- a pretty, pretty wit!
LIEUT.
The maiden comes. Follow me, friend, and we will
discuss this matter at length in my library.
POINT.
I am your worship's servant. That is to say, I trust
I soon shall be. But, before proceeding to a more
serious topic, can you tell me, sir, why a cook's
brain-pan is like an overwound clock?
LIEUT.
A truce to this fooling-- follow me.
POINT.
Just my luck; my best conundrum wasted!
[Exeunt LIEUTENANT and POINT. Enter ELSIE from Tower, led
by WILFRED, who removes the bandage from her eyes, and exits.]
[No. 10. 'Tis done! I am a bride!
(RECITATIVE AND SONG)
Elsie]
ELSIE.
'Tis done! I am a bride! Oh, little ring,
That bearest in thy circlet all the gladness
That lovers hope for, and that poets sing,
What bringest thou to me but gold and sadness?
A bridegroom all unknown, save in this wise,
To-day he dies! To-day, alas, he dies!
Though tear and long-drawn sigh
Ill fit a bride,
No sadder wife than I
The whole world wide!
Ah me! Ah me!
Yet maids there be
Who would consent to lose
The very rose of youth,
The flow'r of life,
To be, in honest truth,
A wedded wife,
No matter whose!
No matter whose!
Ah me! what profit we,
O maids that sigh,
Though gold, though gold should live
If wedded love must die?
Ere half an hour has rung,
A widow I!
Ah, heaven, he is too young,
Too brave to die!
Ah me! Ah me!
Yet wives there be
So weary worn, I trow,
That they would scarce complain,
So that they could
In half an hour attain
To widowhood,
No matter how!
No matter how!
O weary wives
Who widowhood would win,
Rejoice, rejoice, that ye have time
To weary in.
O weary wives
Who widowhood would win,
Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice,
that ye have time
O weary, weary wives, rejoice!
[Exit ELSIE as WILFRED re-enters.]
WILFRED.
[looking after ELSIE]
'Tis an odd freak for a dying
man and his confessor to be closeted alone with a
strange singing girl. I would fain have espied them,
but they stopped up the keyhole. My keyhole!
[Enter PHOEBE with SERGEANT MERYLL. MERYLL remains
in the background, unobserved by WILFRED.]
PHOEBE.
[aside]
Wilfred-- and alone!
WILFRED.
Now what could he have wanted with her? That's what puzzles me!
PHOEBE.
[aside]
Now to get the keys from him.
[Aloud]
Wilfred-- has no reprieve arrived?
WILFRED.
None. Thine adored Fairfax is to die.
PHOEBE.
Nay, thou knowest that I have naught but pity for the
poor condemned gentleman.
WILFRED.
I know that he who is about to die is more to thee
than I, who am alive and well.
PHOEBE.
Why, that were out of reason, dear Wilfred. Do they
not say that a live ass is better than a dead lion?
No, I didn't mean that!
WILFRED.
Oh, they say that, do they?
PHOEBE.
It's unpardonably rude of them, but I believe they put
it in that way. Not that it applies to thee, who art
clever beyond all telling!
WILFRED.
Oh yes, as an assistant-tormentor.
PHOEBE.
Nay, as a wit, as a humorist, as a most philosophic
commentator on the vanity of human resolution.
[PHOEBE slyly takes bunch of keys from WILFRED's waistband
and hands them to MERYLL, who enters the Tower, unnoticed by WILFRED.]
WILFRED.
Truly, I have seen great resolution give way under my
persuasive methods [working with a small thumbscrew].
In the nice regulation of a thumbscrew-- in the
hundredth part of a single revolution lieth all the
difference between stony reticence and a torrent of
impulsive unbosoming that the pen can scarcely follow.
Ha! ha! I am a mad wag.
PHOEBE.
[with a grimace]
Thou art a most light-hearted and
delightful companion, Master Wilfred. Thine anecdotes
of the torture-chamber are the prettiest hearing.
WILFRED.
I'm a pleasant fellow an' I choose. I believe I am the
merriest dog that barks. Ah, we might be passing happy together--
PHOEBE.
Perhaps. I do not know.
WILFRED.
For thou wouldst make a most tender and loving wife.
PHOEBE.
Aye, to one whom I really loved. For there is a wealth
of love within this little heart-- saving up for-- I
wonder whom? Now, of all the world of men, I wonder
whom? To think that he whom I am to wed is now alive
and somewhere! Perhaps far away, perhaps close at
hand! And I know him not! It seemeth that I am wasting
time in not knowing him.
WILFRED.
Now say that it is I-- nay! suppose it for the nonce.
Say that we are wed-- suppose it only-- say that thou
art my very bride, and I thy cherry, joyous, bright,
frolicsome husband-- and that, the day's work being
done, and the prisoners stored away for the night,
thou and I are alone together-- with a long, long
evening before us!
PHOEBE.
[with a grimace]
It is a pretty picture-- but I
scarcely know. It cometh so unexpectedly--
and yet--and yet-- were I thy bride--
WILFRED.
Aye!-- wert thou my bride--?
PHOEBE.
Oh, how I would love thee!
[No. 11. Were I thy bride
(SONG)
Phoebe]
PHOEBE.
Were I thy bride,
Then all the world beside
Were not too wide
To hold my wealth of love--
Were I thy bride!
Upon thy breast
My loving head would rest,
As on her nest
The tender turtle dove--
Were I thy bride!
This heart of mine
Would be one heart with thine,
And in that shrine
Our happiness would dwell--
Were I thy bride!
And all day long
Our lives should be a song:
No grief, no wrong
Should make my heart rebel--
Were I thy bride!
The silvery flute,
The melancholy lute,
Were night-owl's hoot
To my low-whispered coo--
Were I thy bride!
The skylark's trill
Were but discordance shrill
To the soft thrill
Of wooing as I'd woo--
Were I thy bride!
[MERYLL re-enters; gives keys to PHOEBE, who replaces
them at WILFRED's girdle, unnoticed by him. Exit MERYLL.]
The rose's sigh
Were as a carrion's cry
To lullaby
Such as I'd sing to thee,
Were I thy bride!
A feather's press
Were leaden heaviness to my caress.
But then, of course, you see,
I'm not thy bride.
[Exit PHOEBE]
WILFRED.
No, thou'rt not-- not yet! But, Lord, how she woo'd; I
should be no mean judge of wooing, seeing that I have
been more hotly woo'd than most men. I have been woo'd
by maid, widow, and wife. I have been woo'd boldly,
timidly, tearfully, shyly-- by direct assault, by
suggestion, by implication, by inference, and by
innuendo. But this wooing is not of the common order;
it is the wooing of one who must needs me, if she die for it!
[Exit WILFRED. Enter SERGEANT MERRILL, cautiously, from Tower.]
MERYLL.
[looking after them]
The deed is, so far, safely
accomplished. The slyboots, how she wheedled him! What
a helpless ninny is a love-sick man! He is but as a
lute in a woman's hands-- she plays upon him whatever
tune she will. But the Colonel comes. I' faith, he's
just in time, for the Yeomen parade here for his
execution in two minutes!
[Enter FAIRFAX, without beard and moustache,
and dressed in Yeoman's uniform.]
FAIRFAX.
My good and kind friend, thou runnest a grave risk for me!
MERYLL.
Tut, sir, no risk. I'll warrant none here will
recognise you. You make a brave Yeoman, sir! So-- this
ruff is too high; so-- and the sword should hang thus.
Here is your halbert, sir; carry it thus. The Yeomen
come. Now, remember, you are my brave son, Leonard
Meryll.
FAIRFAX.
If I may not bear mine own name, there is none other
I would bear so readily.
MERYLL.
Now, sir, put a bold face on it, for they come.
[No. 12. Oh, Sergeant Meryll, is it true
(FINALE OF ACT I)
Ensemble]
[Enter YEOMEN of the Guard]
YEOMEN.
Oh, Sergeant Meryll, is it true--
The welcome news we read in orders?
Thy son, whose deeds of derring-do
Are echoed all the country through,
Has come to join the Tower Warders?
If so, we come to meet him,
That we may fitly greet him,
And welcome his arrival here
With shout on shout and cheer on cheer,
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
MERYLL.
Ye Tower warders, nursed in war's alarms,
Suckled on gunpowder, and weaned on glory,
Behold my son, whose all-subduing arms
Have formed the theme of many a song and story!
Forgive his aged father's pride; nor jeer
His aged father's sympathetic tear!
[Pretending to weep]
YEOMEN.
Leonard Meryll!
Leonard Meryll!
Dauntless he in time of peril!
Man of power,
Knighthood's flower,
Welcome to the grim old Tower,
To the Tower, welcome thou!
FAIRFAX.
Forbear, my friends, and spare me this ovation,
I have small claim to such consideration;
The tales that of my prowess are narrated
Have been prodigiously exaggerated,
prodigiously exaggerated!
YEOMEN.
'Tis ever thus!
Wherever valor true is found,
True modesty will there abound.
1ST YEOMAN.
Didst thou not, oh, Leonard Meryll!
Standard lost in last campaign,
Rescue it at deadly peril--
Bear it safely back again?
YEOMEN.
Leonard Meryll, at his peril,
Bore it safely back again!
2ND YEOMAN.
Didst thou not, when prisoner taken,
And debarred from all escape,
Face, with gallant heart unshaken,
Death in most appalling shape?
YEOMEN.
Leonard Meryll, faced his peril,
Death in most appalling shape!
FAIRFAX.
[aside]
Truly I was to be pitied,
Having but an hour to live,
I reluctantly submitted,
I had no alternative!
FAIRFAX.
[aloud]
Oh! the tales that are narrated
Of my deeds of derring-do
Have been much exaggerated,
Very much exaggerated,
Scarce a word of them is true!
Scarce a word of them is true!
YEOMEN.
They are not exaggerated,
Not at all exaggerated,
Could not be exaggerated,
Ev'ry word of them is true!
3RD YEOMAN
[optional]
You, when brought to execution,
Like a demigod of yore,
With heroic resolution
Snatched a sword and killed a score.
YEOMEN.
[optional]
Leonard Meryll, Leonard Meryll
Snatched a sword and killed a score!
4TH YEOMAN
[optional]
Then escaping from the foemen,
Boltered with the blood you shed,
You, defiant, fearing no men,
Saved your honour and your head!
YEOMEN.
[optional]
Leonard Meryll, Leonard Meryll
Saved his honour and his head.
FAIRFAX.
[optional]
True, my course with judgement
shaping,
Favoured, too, by lucky star,
I succeeded in escaping
Prison-bolt and prison bar!
FAIRFAX.
[optional]
Oh! the tales that are narrated
Of my deeds of derring-do
Have been much exaggerated,
Very much exaggerated,
Scarce a word of them is true!
Scarce a word of them is true!
YEOMEN.
[optional]
They are not exaggerated,
Not at all exaggerated,
Could not be exaggerated,
Ev'ry word of them is true!
[Enter PHOEBE. She rushes to FAIRFAX. Enter WILFRED.]
PHOEBE.
Leonard!
FAIRFAX.
[puzzled]
I beg your pardon?
PHOEBE.
Don't you know me? I'm little Phoebe!
FAIRFAX.
[still puzzled]
Phoebe? Is this Phoebe?
What! little Phoebe?
[aside]
Who the deuce may she be?
It can't be Phoebe, surely?
WILFRED.
Yes, 'tis Phoebe--
Your sister Phoebe! Your own little sister!
YEOMEN.
Aye, he speaks the truth; 'Tis Phoebe!
FAIRFAX.
[pretending to recognise her]
Sister Phoebe!
PHOEBE.
Oh, my brother!
FAIRFAX.
Why, how you've grown!
I did not recognize you!
PHOEBE.
So many years! Oh, brother!
FAIRFAX.
Oh, my sister!
BOTH.
Oh, brother! Oh, sister!
WILFRED.
Aye, hug him, girl!
There are three thou mayst hug--
Thy father and thy brother and-- myself!
FAIRFAX.
Thyself, forsooth?
And who art thou thyself?
WILFRED.
Good sir, we are betrothed.
[FAIRFAX turns inquiringly to PHOEBE]
PHOEBE.
Or more or less--
But rather less than more!
WILFRED.
To thy fond care
I do commend thy sister.
Be to her
An ever-watchful guardian-- eagle-eyed!
And when she feels (as sometimes she does feel)
Disposed to indiscriminate caress,
Be thou at hand to take those favours from her!
YEOMEN.
Be thou at hand to take those favours from her!
PHOEBE.
Yes, yes.
Be thou at hand to take those favours from me!
WILFRED.
To thy fraternal care
Thy sister I commend;
From every lurking snare
Thy lovely charge defend;
And to achieve this end,
Oh! grant, I pray, this boon--
Oh! grant this boon
She shall not quit my sight;
From morn to afternoon--
From afternoon to night--
From sev'n o'clock to two--
From two to eventide--
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night,
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night
She shall not quit my side!
YEOMEN.
From morn to afternoon--
From afternoon to 'lev'n at night
She shall not quit thy side!
PHOEBE.
So amiable I've grown,
So innocent as well,
That if I'm left alone
The consequences fell
No mortal can foretell.
So grant, I pray, this boon--
Oh! grant this boon
I shall not quit thy sight:
From morn to afternoon--
From afternoon to night--
From sev'n o'clock to two--
From two to eventide--
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night
I shall not quit thy side!
YEOMEN.
From morn to afternoon--
From afternoon to 'lev'n at night
She shall not quit thy side!
FAIRFAX.
With brotherly readiness,
For my fair sister's sake,
At once I answer "Yes"--
That task I undertake--
My word I never break.
I freely grant that boon,
And I'll repeat my plight.
From morn to afternoon-- [kiss]
From afternoon to night-- [kiss]
From sev'n o'clock to two-- [kiss]
From two to evening meal-- [kiss]
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night,
From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night,
That compact I will seal. [kiss]
YEOMEN.
From morn to afternoon,
From afternoon to 'lev'n at night
He freely grants that boon.
[The bell of St. Peter's begins to toll. The CROWD enters;
the block is brought on to the stage, and the HEADSMAN
takes his place. The YEOMEN of the Guard form up. The
LIEUTENANT enters and takes his place, and tells off
FAIRFAX and two others to bring the prisoner to execution.
WILFRED, FAIRFAX, and TWO YEOMEN exeunt to Tower.]
CHORUS.
The prisoner comes to meet his doom;
The block, the headsman, and the tomb.
The funeral bell begins to toll;
May Heav'n have mercy on his soul!
May Heav'n have mercy on his soul!
ELSIE.
Oh, Mercy, thou whose smile has shone
So many a captive heart upon;
Of all immured within these walls,
To-day the very worthiest falls!
ALL.
Oh, Mercy, thou whose smile has shone
So many a captive heart upon;
Of all immured within these walls,
The very worthiest falls.
Oh, Mercy, Oh, Mercy!
[Enter FAIRFAX and TWO YEOMEN from Tower in great excitement.]
FAIRFAX.
My lord! I know not how to tell
The news I bear!
I and my comrades sought the pris'ner's cell--
He is not there!
ALL.
He is not there!
They sought the pris'ner's cell--
he is not there!
FAIRFAX AND TWO YEOMEN.
As escort for the prisoner
We sought his cell, in duty bound;
The double gratings open were,
No prisoner at all we found!
We hunted high, we hunted low,
We hunted here, we hunted there--
The man we sought with anxious care
Had vanished into empty air!
The man we sought with anxious care
Had vanished into empty air!
[Exit LIEUTENANT]
WOMEN.
Now, by my troth, the news is fair,
The man has vanished into air!
ALL.
As escort for the prisoner
We/they sought his cell in duty bound;
The double gratings open were,
No prisoner at all we/they found,
We/they hunted high, we/they hunted low,
We/they hunted here, we/they hunted there,
The man we/they sought with anxious care
Had vanished into empty air!
The man we/they sought with anxious care
Had vanished into empty air!
[Enter WILFRED, followed by LIEUTENANT]
LIEUT.
Astounding news! The pris'ner fled!
[To WILFRED]
Thy life shall forfeit be instead!
[WILFRED is arrested]
WILFRED.
My lord, I did not set him free,
I hate the man-- my rival he!
MERYLL.
The pris'ner gone-- I'm all agape!
LIEUT.
Thy life shall forfeit be instead!
MERYLL.
Who could have helped him to escape?
WILFRED.
My lord, I did not set him free!
PHOEBE.
Indeed I can't imagine who!
I've no idea at all, have you?
[Enter JACK POINT]
DAME.
Of his escape no traces lurk,
Enchantment must have been at work!
ELSIE.
[aside to POINT]
What have I done? Oh, woe is me!
PHOEBE & DAME.
Indeed I can't imagine who!
I've no idea at all, have you?
ELSIE.
I am his wife, and he is free!
POINT.
Oh, woe is you? Your anguish sink!
Oh, woe is me, I rather think!
Oh, woe is me, I rather think!
Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
Whate'er betide
You are his bride,
And I am left
Alone-- bereft!
Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me,
Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
ENSEMBLE.
All frenzied with despair I/they rave,
The grave is cheated of its due.
Who is, who is the misbegotten knave
Who hath contrived this deed to do?
Let search, let search
Be made throughout the land,
Or his/my vindictive anger dread--
A thousand marks, a thousand marks
he'll/I'll hand
Who brings him here, alive or dead,
Who brings him here, alive or dead!
A thousand marks, a thousand marks,
Alive, alive or dead
Alive, alive or dead
Who brings him here, alive, alive, or dead.
[At the end, ELSIE faints in FAIRFAX's arms; all the YEOMEN
and CROWD rush off the stage in different directions, to
hunt for the fugitive, leaving only the HEADSMAN on the
stage, and ELSIE insensible in FAIRFAX's arms.]
[THE END]
W. S. Gilbert's play: Yeomen Of The Guard; Or, The Merryman And His Maid
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