The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan

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"Oh I love the jolly rattle
Of an orde-al by battle,
There's an end of tittle-tattle
When your enemy is dead.
It's an arrant molly-coddle
Fears a crack upon his noddle
And he's only fit to swaddle
In a downy feather-bed!

Ladies: For a Soldiers: Oh, I
fight's love the
a jolly
kind rattle
of Of an
thing orde-al by battle
That I There's an
love end of
to tittle
look tattle,
up- When your
on, enemy is dead.
So It's an
let arrant
us molly-
sing, coddle
Long Fears a
live crack upon
the his
King, noddle,
And his And he's
son only fit to
Hi- swaddle, In a
la- downy fea-
ri-on! ther bed!

(During this, Hilarion, Florian,
and Cyril are
brought out by the "Daughters of
the Plough".
They are still bound and wear
the robes.

Enter GAMA.)

Gama: Hilarion! Cyril! Florian! dressed as women!
Is this indeed Hilarion?

Hilar.: Yes, it is!

Gama: Why, you look handsome in your women's clothes!
Stick to 'em! Men's attire becomes you not!
(To CYRIL and FLORIAN) And you, young ladies, will you please to
pray
King Hildebrand to set me free again?
Hang on his neck and gaze into his eyes,
He never could resist a pretty face!

Hilar.: You dog, you'll find, though I wear woman's garb,
My sword is long and sharp!

Gama: Hush, pretty one!
Here's a virago! Here's a termagant!
If length and sharpness go for anything,
You'll want no sword while you can wag your tongue!

Cyril: What need to waste your words on such as he?
He's old and crippled.

Gama: Aye, but I've three sons,
Fine fellows, young and muscular, and brave,
They're well worth talking to! Come, what d'ye say?

Arac: Aye, pretty ones, engage yourselves with us,
If three rude warriors affright you not!

Hilar.: Old as you are, I'd wring your shrivelled neck
If you were not the Princess Ida's father.

Gama: If I were not the Princess Ida's father,
And so had not her brothers for my sons,
No doubt you'd wring my neck -- in safety too!
Come, come, Hilarion, begin, begin!
Give them no quarter -- they will give you none.
You've this advantage over warriors
Who kill their country's enemies for pay,--
You know what you are fighting for -- look there!
(Pointing to Ladies on the
battlements)

(Exit Gamma. Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril
are led off.)

SONG (Arac, Guron, Scynthius and Chorus)
"This Helmet, I Suppose"

Arac: This helmet, I suppose,
Was meant to ward off blows,
It's very hot
And weighs a lot,
As many a guardsman knows,
As many a guardsman knows,
As many a guardsman knows,
As many a guardsman knows,
So off, so off that helmet goes.

Others: Yes, yes, yes,
So off that helmet goes!

(Giving their helmets to
attendants)

Arac: This tight-fitting cuirass
Is but a useless mass,
It's made of steel,
And weighs a deal,
This tight-fitting cuirass
Is but a useless mass,
A man is but an ass
Who fights in a cuirass,
So off, so off goes that cuirass.

Others: Yes, yes, yes,
So off goes that cuirass!
(Removing
cuirasses)

Arac: These brassets, truth to tell,
May look uncommon well,
But in a fight
They're much too tight,
They're like a lobster shell,
They're like a lobster shell!

Others: Yes, yes, yes,
They're like a lobster shell.
(Removing
their brassets)

Arac: These things I treat the same
(indicating leg pieces)
(I quite forget their name.)
They turn one's legs
To cribbage pegs--
Their aid I thus disclaim,
Their aid I thus disclaim,
Though I forget their name,
Though I forget their name,
Their aid, their aid I thus disclaim!

Others: Yes, yes, yes,
All: Their aid (we/they) thus disclaim!

(They remove their leg pieces and wear close-fitting shape suits.)

Enter Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril

(Desperate fight between the three Princes
and the three
Knights, during which the Ladies on the
battlements and
the Soldiers on the stage sing the
following chorus):

CHORUS DURING THE FIGHT
"This is our Duty"

Chorus: This is our duty plain towards
Our Princess all immaculate,
We ought to bless her brothers' swords,
And piously ejaculate:
Oh, Hungary!
Oh, Hungary!
Oh, doughty sons of Hungary!
May all success
Attend and bless
Your warlike ironmongery!

Hilarion! Hilarion! Hilarion!

(By this time, Arac, Guron, and
Scynthius are
on the ground, wounded --
Hilarion, Cyril and
Florian stand
over them.)

Princess: (Entering through gate and followed by Ladies,
Hildebrand, and Gama.)
Hold! stay your hands! -- we yield ourselves to you!
Ladies, my brothers all lie bleeding there!
Bind up their wounds -- but look the other way.
(Coming down) Is this the end? (Bitterly to Lady
Blanche)
How say you, Lady Blanche--
Can I with dignity my post resign?
And if I do, will you then take my place?

Blanche: To answer this, it's meet that we consult
The great Potential Mysteries; I mean
The five Subjunctive Possibilities--
The May, the Might, the Would, the Could, the Should.
Can you resign? The Prince May claim you; if
He Might, you Could -- and if you Should, I Would!

Princess: I thought as much! Then to my fate I yield--
So ends my cherished scheme! Oh, I had hoped
To band all women with my maiden throng,
And make them all abjure tyrannic Man!

Hildebd: A noble aim!

Princess: You ridicule it now;
But if I carried out this glorious scheme,
At my exalted name Posterity
Would bow in gratitude!

Hildebd: But pray
reflect --
If you enlist all women in your cause,
And make them all abjure tyrannic Man,
The obvious question then arises, "How
Is this Posterity to be provided?"

Princess: I never thought of that! My Lady Blanche,
How do you solve the riddle?

Blanche: Don't ask me --
Abstract Philosophy won't answer it.
Take him -- he is your Shall. Give in to Fate!

Princess: And you desert me. I alone am staunch!

Hilarion: Madam, you placed your trust in Woman -- well,
Woman has failed you utterly -- try Man,
Give him one chance, it's only fair -- besides,
Women are far too precious, too divine,
To try unproven theories upon.
Experiments, the proverb says, are made
On humble subjects -- try our grosser clay,
And mould it as you will!

Cyril: Remember, too
Dear Madam, if at any time you feel
A-weary of the Prince, you can return
To Castle Adamant, and rule your girls
As heretofore, you know.

Princess: And shall I find
The Lady Psyche here?

Psyche: If Cyril, ma'am,
Does not behave himself, I think you will.

Princess: And you Melissa, shall I find you here?

Melissa: Madam, however Florian turns out,
Unhesitatingly I answer, No!

Gama: Consider this, my love, if your mama
Had looked on matters from your point of view
(I wish she had), why where would you have been?

Blanche: There's an unbounded field of speculation,
On which I could discourse for hours!

Princess: No doubt!
We will not trouble you. Hilarion,
I have been wrong -- I see my error now.
Take me, Hilarion -- "We will walk this world
Yoked in all exercise of noble end!
And so through those dark gates across the wild
That no one knows!" Indeed, I love thee -- Come!

Finale
"With joy abiding"

Princess: With joy abiding,
Together gliding
Through life's variety,
In sweet society,
And thus enthroning
The love I'm owning,
On this atoning
I will rely!

Chorus: It were profanity
For poor humanity
To treat as vanity
The sway of Love.
In no locality
Or principality
Is our mortality
It's sway above!

Hilarion: When day is fading,
With serenading
And such frivolity
Of tender quality--
With scented showers
Of fairest flowers,
The happy hours
Will gaily fly!
The happy hours will gaily fly!

Chorus: It were profanity
For poor humanity
To treat as vanity
The sway of Love.
In no locality
Or principality
Is our mortality
It's sway above!

1st Sops: In no lo- Others:
cality Or princi- Its
pality Is our mor- sway
tality It's sway a- a-
bove! bove!

Princess & With scented Others:
Hilarion: showers Of fairest Its
flowers, The happy sway
hours will gaily a-
fly! bove!

All: In no locality
Or principality
Is our mortality
Above the sway of love!

Curtain

RUDDIGORE

or

The Witch's Curse

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

MORTALS

SIR RUTHVEN MURGATROYD (disguised as Robin Oakapple, a Young
Farmer)
RICHARD DAUNTLESS (his Foster-Brother, a Man-o'-war's man)
SIR DESPARD MURGATROYD, OF RUDDIGORE (a Wicked Baronet)
OLD ADAM GOODHEART (Robin's Faithful Servant)
ROSE MAYBUD (a Village Maiden)
MAD MARGARET
DAME HANNAH (Rose's Aunt)
ZORAH and RUTH (Professional Bridesmaids)

GHOSTS

SIR RUPERT MURGATROYD (the First Baronet)
SIR JASPER MURGATROYD (the Third Baronet)
SIR LIONEL MURGATROYD (the Sixth Baronet)
SIR CONRAD MURGATROYD (the Twelfth Baronet)
SIR DESMOND MURGATROYD (the Sixteenth Baronet)
SIR GILBERT MURGATROYD (the Eighteenth Baronet)
SIR MERVYN MURGATROYD (the Twentieth Baronet)
and
SIR RODERIC MURGATROYD (the Twenty-first Baronet)

Chorus of Officers, Ancestors, Professional Bridesmaids, and
Villagers

ACT I

The Fishing Village of Rederring, in Cornwall

ACT II

The Picture Gallery in Ruddigore Castle

TIME

Early in the 19th Century

ACT I

SCENE. The fishing village of Rederring (in Cornwall). Rose
Maybud's cottage is seen L.

Enter Chorus of Bridesmaids. They range themselves in front of
Rose'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 glowing
With virgin blushes, say--
Is anybody going
To marry you to-day?

SOLO--ZORAH.

Every day, as the days roll on,
Bridesmaids' garb we gaily don,
Sure that a maid so fairly famed
Can'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 glowing
With virgin blushes, say--
Is anybody going
To 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, for
Rose is still heart-free, and looks but coldly upon her many
suitors.
ZORAH. It's very disappointing. Every young man in the
village is in love with her, but they are appalled by her beauty
and modesty, and won't declare themselves; so, until she makes
her own choice, there's no chance for anybody else.
RUTH. This is, perhaps, the only village in the world that
possesses an endowed corps of professional bridesmaids who are
bound to be on duty every day from ten to four--and it is at
least six months since our services were required. The pious
charity 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 you
liked. There's old Adam--Robin's faithful servant--he loves you
with 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 was
betrothed 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 been
celebrated, I discovered that he was no other than Sir Roderic
Murgatroyd, one of the bad Baronets of Ruddigore, and the uncle
of the man who now bears that title. As a son of that accursed
race he was no husband for an honest girl, so, madly as I loved
him, I left him then and there. He died but ten years since, but
I never saw him again.
ZOR. But why should you not marry a bad Baronet of
Ruddigore?
RUTH. All baronets are bad; but was he worse than other
baronets?
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 since
the time of Sir Rupert, the first Baronet. Listen, and you shall
hear the legend:

LEGEND--HANNAH.

Sir Rupert Murgatroyd
His leisure and his riches
He ruthlessly employed
In persecuting witches.
With fear he'd make them quake--
He'd duck them in his lake--
He'd break their bones
With sticks and stones,
And burn them at the stake!

CHORUS. This sport he much enjoyed,
Did Rupert Murgatroyd--
No sense of shame
Or pity came
To 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 grim
Seized on each withered limb,
The writhing dame
`Mid fire and flame
Yelled 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 stay
His hand, that day
In torture he shall die!"

The prophecy came true:
Each heir who held the title
Had, every day, to do
Some crime of import vital;
Until, with guilt o'erplied,
"I'll Sin no more!" he cried,
And on the day
He 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 of
false teeth for pretty little Ruth Rowbottom, and a pound of
snuff for the poor orphan girl on the hill.
HAN. Ah, Rose, pity that so much goodness should not help
to make some gallant youth happy for life! Rose, why dost thou
harden that little heart of thine? Is there none hereaway whom
thou couldst love?
ROSE. And if there were such an one, verily it would ill
become me to tell him so.
HAN. Nay, dear one, where true love is, there is little
need of prim formality.
ROSE. Hush, dear aunt, for thy words pain me sorely. Hung
in a plated dish-cover to the knocker of the workhouse door, with
naught that I could call mine own, save a change of baby-linen
and a book of etiquette, little wonder if I have always regarded
that work as a voice from a parent's tomb. This hallowed volume
(producing a book of etiquette), composed, if I may believe the
title-page, by no less an authority than the wife of a Lord
Mayor, has been, through life, my guide and monitor. By its
solemn precepts I have learnt to test the moral worth of all who
approach me. The man who bites his bread, or eats peas with a
knife, I look upon as a lost creature, and he who has not
acquired the proper way of entering and leaving a room is the
object of my pitying horror. There are those in this village who
bite their nails, dear aunt, and nearly all are wont to use their
pocket combs in public places. In truth I could pursue this
painful theme much further, but behold, I have said enough.
HAN. But is there not one among them who is faultless, in
thine eyes? For example--young Robin. He combines the manners
of a Marquis with the morals of a Methodist. Couldst thou not
love him?
ROSE. And even if I could, how should I confess it unto
him? For lo, he is shy, and sayeth naught!

BALLAD--ROSE.

If somebody there chanced to be
Who 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 do
to 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 she
breathed the hallowed name of Robin, that he would do even as
well as another. But he resembleth all the youths in this
village, in that he is unduly bashful in my presence, and lo, it
is 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 ROSE

ROB. 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!)