The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan

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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 will
die!)

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 to
do!
(Exit ROSE.)

ROB. Poor child! I sometimes think that if she wasn't
quite so particular I might venture--but no, no--even then I
should be unworthy of her!

(He sit 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 that
hideous title, and with it the ban that compels all who succeed
to the baronetcy to commit at least one deadly crime per day, for
life, I fled my home, and concealed myself in this innocent
village under the name of Robin Oakapple. My younger brother,
Despard, believing me to be dead, succeeded to the title and its
attendant 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 not
sworn to obey you for ever in all things? Yet, as we are here
alone, and as I belong to that particular description of good old
man to whom the truth is a refreshing novelty, let me call you by
your own right title once more! (Robin assents.) Sir Ruthven
Murgatroyd! Baronet! Of Ruddigore! Whew! It's like eight
hours at the seaside!
ROB. My poor old friend! Would there were more like you!
ADAM. Would there were indeed! But I bring you good
tidings. Your foster-brother, Richard, has returned from
sea--his ship the Tom-Tit rides yonder at anchor, and he himself
is 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 sea
Comes young Richard, all victorious!
Valorous is he--
His achievements all are glorious!
Let the welkin ring
With the news we bring
Sing 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 old
acquaintances.)

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 her
ports,
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 a
gal!
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 breeze
As we gives a compassionating cheer;
Froggee answers with a shout
As 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's
cheek
(Which is what them furriners do),
And they blessed their lucky stars
We were hardy British tars
Who 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 deeds
as yours that cause our flag to be loved and dreaded throughout
the civilized world!
RICH. Why, lord love ye, Rob, that's but a trifle to what
we have done in the way of sparing life! I believe I may say,
without exaggeration, that the marciful little Tom-Tit has spared
more French frigates than any craft afloat! But 'taint for a
British seaman to brag, so I'll just stow my jawin' tackle and
belay. (Robin sighs.) But 'vast heavin', messmate, what's
brought 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 as
a to'-gall'n'-m'st--taut as a forestay--aye, and a barrowknight
to boot, if all had their rights!
ROB. Hush, Richard--not a word about my true rank, which
none here suspect. Yes, I know well enough that few men are
better calculated to win a woman's heart than I. I'm a fine
fellow, Dick, and worthy any woman's love--happy the girl who
gets me, say I. But I'm timid, Dick; shy--nervous--modest--
retiring--diffident--and I cannot tell her, Dick, I cannot tell
her! 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 swore
that, 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 should
do, and it has never failed me.
RICH. Right! Let your heart be your compass, with a clear
conscience for your binnacle light, and you'll sail ten knots on
a bowline, clear of shoals, rocks, and quicksands! Well, now,
what does my heart say in this here difficult situation? Why, it
says, "Dick," it says--(it calls me Dick acos it's known me from
a babby)--"Dick," it says, "you ain't shy--you ain't
modest--speak you up for him as is!" Robin, my lad, just you lay
me alongside, and when she's becalmed under my lee, I'll spin her
a 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 the
expression in its complimentary sense) has already made you a
bos'n's mate, and it will make an admiral of you in time, if you
work it properly, you dear, incompetent old impostor! My dear
fellow, I'd give my right arm for one tenth of your modest
assurance!

SONG--ROBIN.

My boy, you may take it from me,
That of all the afflictions accurst
With which a man's saddled
And 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 city
There'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 Horace
To 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's
such 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 was
for your own father"--that's what my heart's a-remarkin' to me
just now. But here she comes! Steady! Steady it is! (Enter
Rose--he is much struck by her.) By the Port Admiral, but she's
a tight little craft! Come, come, she's not for you, Dick, and
yet--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, true
enough!--took flat aback, my girl; but 'tis naught--'twill pass.
(Aside.) This here heart of mine's a-dictatin' to me like
anythink. Question is, Have I a right to disregard its
promptings?
ROSE. Can I do aught to relieve thine anguish, for it
seemeth to me that thou art in sore trouble? This
apple--(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 like
you in all my born days. Parbuckle me, if you ain't the
loveliest gal I've ever set eyes on. There--I can't say fairer
than that, can I?
ROSE. No. (Aside.) The question is, Is it meet that an
utter 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 own
account, for, truth to tell, I was chartered by another; but when
I see you my heart it up and it says, says it, "This is the very
lass for you, Dick"--"speak up to her, Dick," it says--(it calls
me Dick acos we was at school together)--"tell her all, Dick," it
says, "never sail under false colours--it's mean!" That's what
my 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 an
one? (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 with
apparent hesitation." (Aloud.) I take you, but with a certain
show of reluctance. (Refers to book.) "Avoid any appearance of
eagerness." (Aloud.) Though you will bear in mind that I am far
from anxious to do so. (Refers to book.) "A little show of
emotion will not be misplaced!" (Aloud.) Pardon this tear!
(Wipes her eye.)
RICH. Rose, you've made me the happiest blue-jacket in
England! 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 I
be permitted to salute the flag I'm a-goin' to sail under?
ROSE (referring to book). "An engaged young lady should not
permit too many familiarities." (Aloud.) Once! (Richard kisses
her.)

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 shelter
Within 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 sighing
And tears of brine,
For joy undying
Shall 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 phrases
Hymn 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 a
maiden 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 like
this: the moment I see her, and just as I was a-goin' to mention
your name, my heart it up and it says, says it--"Dick, you've
fell in love with her yourself," it says; "be honest and
sailor-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 at
him and exeunt.) Vulgar girls!
RICH. What could I do? I'm bound to obey my heart's
dictates.
ROB. Of course--no doubt. It's quite right--I don't
mind--that is, not particularly--only it's--it is disappointing,
you know.
ROSE (to Robin). Oh, but, sir, I knew not that thou didst
seek me in wedlock, or in very truth I should not have hearkened
unto this man, for behold, he is but a lowly mariner, and very
poor withal, whereas thou art a tiller of the land, and thou hast
fat oxen, and many sheep and swine, a considerable dairy farm and
much 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 thy
love. I am passing young and little able to judge. Moreover, as
to thy character I know naught!
ROB. Nay, Rose, I'll answer for that. Dick has won thy
love fairly. Broken-hearted as I am, I'll stand up for Dick
through 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 but
worldly men, and little prone to lead serious and thoughtful
lives!
ROB. And what then? Admit that Dick is not a steady
character, and that when he's excited he uses language that would
make your hair curl. Grant that--he does. It's the truth, and
I'm not going to deny it. But look at his good qualities. He's
as 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 do
bemuse 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, for
rum's his bane, and ever has been. He does drink--I won't deny
it. But what of that? Look at his arms--tattooed to the
shoulder! (Rich. rolls up his sleeves.) No, no--I won't hear a
word against Dick!
ROSE. But they say that mariners are but rarely true to
those whom they profess to love!
ROB. Granted--granted--and I don't say that Dick isn't as
bad 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 at
turning-in a dead-eye don't walk a deck! And what an
accomplishment that is in a family man! No, no--not a word
against Dick. I'll stick up for him through thick and thin!
RICH. Thankye, Rob, thankye. You're a true friend. I've
acted accordin' to my heart's dictates, and such orders as them
no man should disobey.

ENSEMBLE--RICHARD, ROBIN, and ROSE.

In sailing o'er life's ocean wide
Your 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 got
Upon your bride."
It don't pretend to shape my acts
By 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 wide
No doubt the heart should be your guide;
But it is awkward when you find
A 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 lark
Over the cot.
Merrily whistles the clerk
Scratching a blot.
But the lark
And the clerk,
I remark,
Comfort me not!

Over the ripening peach
Buzzes the bee.
Splash on the billowy beach
Tumbles the sea.
But the peach
And the beach
They are each
Nothing 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 only
That I'm
Love-lonely!
That's all!

BALLAD--MARGARET.

To a garden full of posies
Cometh one to gather flowers,
And he wanders through its bowers
Toying with the wanton roses,
Who, uprising from their beds,
Hold on high their shameless heads
With their pretty lips a-pouting,
Never doubting--never doubting
That for Cytherean posies
He would gather aught but roses!

In a nest of weeds and nettles
Lay a violet, half-hidden,
Hoping that his glance unbidden
Yet might fall upon her petals.
Though she lived alone, apart,
Hope lay nestling at her heart,
But, alas, the cruel awaking
Set her little heart a-breaking,
For he gathered for his posies
Only roses--only roses!
(Bursts into tears.)

(Enter Rose.)

ROSE. A maiden, and in tears? Can I do aught to soften thy
sorrow? 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 Despard
Murgatroyd? All mad girls love him. I love him. I'm poor Mad
Margaret--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 a
mother, but she drank and the squirrel fled! Hush! They sing a
brave song in our parts--it runs somewhat thus: (Sings.)