The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan

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(Enter Tarara in a great rage)

Tarara: Lalabalele talala! Callabale lalabalica falahle!

Calynx: (horrified) Stop--stop, I beg! (All the ladies close
their
ears.)

Tarara: Callamalala galalate! Caritalla lalabalee kallalale poo!

Ladies: Oh, stop him! stop him!

Calynx: My lord, I'm surprised at you. Are you not aware that
His
Majesty, in his despotic acquiescence with the emphatic
wish
of his people, has ordered that the Utopian language
shall
be banished from his court, and that all communications
shall henceforward be made in the English tongue?

Tarara: Yes, I'm perfectly aware of it, although--(suddenly
present-
ing an explosive "cracker"). Stop--allow me.

Calynx: (pulls it). Now, what's that for?

Tarara: Why, I've recently been appointed Public Exploder to His
Majesty, and as I'm constitutionally nervous, I must
accus-
tom myself by degrees to the startling nature of my
duties.
Thank you. I was about to say that although, as Public
Exploder, I am next in succession to the throne, I
neverthe-
less do my best to fall in with the royal decree. But
when
I am overmastered by an indignant sense of overwhelming
wrong, as I am now, I slip into my native tongue without
knowing it. I am told that in the language of that great
and pure nation, strong expressions do not exist, conse-
quently when I want to let off steam I have no
alternative
but to say, "Lalabalele molola lililah kallalale poo!"

Calynx: But what is your grievance?

Tarara: This--by our Constitution we are governed by a Despot
who,
although in theory absolute--is, in practice, nothing of
the
kind--being watched day and night by two Wise Men whose
duty
it is, on his very first lapse from political or social
propriety, to denounce him to me, the Public Exploder,
and
it then becomes my duty to blow up His Majesty with
dynamite--allow me. (Presenting a cracker which Calynx
pulls.) Thank you--and, as some compensation to my
wounded
feelings, I reign in his stead.

Calynx: Yes. After many unhappy experiments in the direction of
an
ideal Republic, it was found that what may be described
as a
Despotism tempered by Dynamite provides, on the whole,
the
most satisfactory description of ruler--an autocrat who
dares not abuse his autocratic power.

Tarara: That's the theory--but in practice, how does it act?
Now,
do you ever happen to see the Palace Peeper? (producing
a
"Society" paper).

Calynx: Never even heard of the journal.

Tarara: I'm not surprised, because His Majesty's agents always
buy
up the whole edition; but I have an aunt in the
publishing
department, and she has supplied me with a copy. Well,
it
actually teems with circumstantially convincing details
of
the King's abominable immoralities! If this high-class
journal may be believed, His Majesty is one of the most
Heliogabalian profligates that ever disgraced an
autocratic
throne! And do these Wise Men denounce him to me? Not
a
bit of it! They wink at his immoralities! Under the
cir-
cumstances I really think I am justified in exclaiming
"Lalabelele molola lililah kalabalale poo!" (All horri-
fied.) I don't care--the occasion demands it. (Exit
Tarara)

(March. Enter Guard, escorting Scaphio and Phantis.)

CHORUS.

O make way for the Wise Men!
They are the prizemen--
Double-first in the world's university!
For though lovely this island
(Which is my land),
She has no one to match them in her city.
They're the pride of Utopia--
Cornucopia
Is each his mental fertility.
O they make no blunder,
And no wonder,
For they're triumphs of infallibility.

DUET -- Scaphio and Phantis.

In every mental lore
(The statement smacks of vanity)
We claim to rank before
The wisest of humanity.
As gifts of head and heart
We wasted on "utility,"
We're "cast" to play a part
Of great responsibility.

Our duty is to spy
Upon our King's illicites,
And keep a watchful eye
On all his eccentricities.
If ever a trick he tries
That savours of rascality,
At our decree he dies
Without the least formality.

We fear no rude rebuff,
Or newspaper publicity;
Our word is quite enough,
The rest is electricity.
A pound of dynamite
Explodes in his auriculars;
It's not a pleasant sight--
We'll spare you the particulars.

Its force all men confess,
The King needs no admonishing--
We may say its success
Is something quite astonishing.
Our despot it imbues
With virtues quite delectable,
He minds his P's and Q's,--
And keeps himself respectable.

Of a tyrant polite
He's paragon quite.
He's as modest and mild
In his ways as a child;
And no one ever met
With an autocrat yet,
So delightfully bland
To the least in the land!

So make way for the wise men, etc.

(Exeunt all but Scaphio and Phantis. Phantis is pensive.)

Scaphio: Phantis, you are not in your customary exuberant spirits.
What is wrong?

Phantis: Scaphio, I think you once told me that you have never
loved?

Scaphio: Never! I have often marvelled at the fairy influence
which
weaves its rosy web about the faculties of the greatest
and
wisest of our race; but I thank Heaven I have never been
subjected to its singular fascination. For, oh, Phantis!
there is that within me that tells me that when my time
does
come, the convulsion will be tremendous! When I love, it
will be with the accumulated fervor of sixty-six years!
But
I have an ideal--a semi-transparent Being, filled with an
inorganic pink jelly--and I have never yet seen the woman
who approaches within measurable distance of it. All are
opaque--opaque--opaque!

Phantis: Keep that ideal firmly before you, and love not until you
find her. Though but fifty-five, I am an old campaigner
in
the battle-fields of Love; and, believe me, it is better
to
be as you are, heart-free and happy, than as I
am--eternally
racked with doubting agonies! Scaphio, the Princess Zara
returns from England today!

Scaphio: My poor boy, I see it all.

Phantis: Oh! Scaphio, she is so beautiful. Ah! you smile, for you
have never seen her. She sailed for England three months
before you took office.

Scaphio: Now tell me, is your affection requited?

Phantis: I do not know--I am not sure. Sometimes I think it is,
and
then come these torturing doubts! I feel sure that she
does
not regard me with absolute indifference, for she could
never look at me without having to go to bed with a sick
headache.

Scaphio: That is surely something. Come, take heart, boy! you
are
young and beautiful. What more could maiden want?

Phantis: Ah! Scaphio, remember she returns from a land where every
youth is as a young Greek god, and where such beauty as
I
can boast is seen at every turn.

Scaphio: Be of good cheer! Marry her, boy, if so your fancy
wills,
and be sure that love will come.

Phantis: (overjoyed) Then you will assist me in this?

Scaphio: Why, surely! Silly one, what have you to fear? We have
but
to say the word, and her father must consent. Is he not
our
very slave? Come, take heart. I cannot bear to see you
sad.

Phantis: Now I may hope, indeed! Scaphio, you have placed me on
the
very pinnacle of human joy!

DUET -- Scaphio and Phantis.

Scaphio: Let all your doubts take wing--
Our influence is great.
If Paramount our King
Presume to hesitate
Put on the screw,
And caution him
That he will rue
Disaster grim
That must ensue
To life and limb,
Should he pooh-pooh
This harmless whim.

Both: This harmless whim--this harmless whim,
It is as I/you say, a harmless whim.

Phantis: (dancing) Observe this dance
Which I employ
When I, by chance
Go mad with joy.
What sentiment
Does this express?

(Phantis continues his dance while Scaphio vainly endeavors to
discover
its meaning)

Supreme content
And happiness!

Both: Of course it does! Of course it does!
Supreme content and happiness.

Phantis: Your friendly aid conferred,
I need no longer pine.
I've but to speak the word,
And lo, the maid is mine!
I do not choose
To be denied.
Or wish to lose
A lovely bride--
If to refuse
The King decide,
The royal shoes
Then woe betide!

Both: Then woe betide--then woe betide!
The Royal shoes then woe betide!

Scaphio: (Dancing) This step to use
I condescend
Whene'er I choose
To serve a friend.
What it implies
Now try to guess;

(Scaphio continues his dance while Phantis is vainly endeavouring
to
discover its meaning)

It typifies
Unselfishness!

Both: (Dancing) Of course it does! Of course it does!
It typifies unselfishness.

(Exeunt Scaphio and
Phantis.)

March. Enter King Paramount, attended by guards and nobles, and
preced-
ed by girls dancing before him.

CHORUS

Quaff the nectar--cull the roses--
Gather fruit and flowers in plenty!
For our king no longer poses--
Sing the songs of far niente!
Wake the lute that sets us lilting,
Dance a welcome to each comer;
Day by day our year is wilting--
Sing the sunny songs of summer!
La, la, la, la!

SOLO -- King.

A King of autocratic power we--
A despot whose tyrannic will is law--
Whose rule is paramount o'er land and sea,
A presence of unutterable awe!
But though the awe that I inspire
Must shrivel with imperial fire
All foes whom it may chance to touch,
To judge by what I see and hear,
It does not seem to interfere
With popular enjoyment, much.

Chorus: No, no--it does not interfere
With our enjoyment much.

Stupendous when we rouse ourselves to strike,
Resistless when our tyrant thunder peals,
We often wonder what obstruction's like,
And how a contradicted monarch feels.
But as it is our Royal whim
Our Royal sails to set and trim
To suit whatever wind may blow--
What buffets contradiction deals
And how a thwarted monarch feels
We probably will never know.

Chorus: No, no--what thwarted monarch feels,
You'll never, never know.

RECITATIVE -- King.

My subjects all, it is your with emphatic
That all Utopia shall henceforth be modelled
Upon that glorious country called Great Britain--
To which some add--but others do not--Ireland.

Chorus: It is!

King: That being so, as you insist upon it,
We have arranged that our two younger daughters
Who have been "finished" by an English Lady--
(tenderly) A grave and good and gracious English Lady--
Shall daily be exhibited in public,
That all may learn what, from the English standpoint,
Is looked upon as maidenly perfection!
Come hither, daughters!

(Enter Nekaya and Kalyba. They are twins, about fifteen years old;
they
are very modest and demure in their appearance, dress and
manner.
They stand with their hands folded and their eyes cast down.)

CHORUS

How fair! how modest! how discreet!
How bashfully demure!
See how they blush, as they've been taught,
At this publicity unsought!
How English and how pure!

DUET -- Nekaya and Kalyba.

Both: Although of native maids the cream,
We're brought up on the English scheme--
The best of all
For great and small
Who modesty adore.

Nek: For English girls are good as gold,
Extremely modest (so we're told)
Demurely coy--divinely cold--
And that we are--and more.

Kal: To please papa, who argues thus--
All girls should mould themselves on us
Because we are
By furlongs far
The best of the bunch,
We show ourselves to loud applause
From ten to four without a pause--

Nek: Which is an awkward time because
It cuts into our lunch.

Both: Oh maids of high and low degree,
Whose social code is rather free,
Please look at us and you will see
What good young ladies ought to be!

Nek: And as we stand, like clockwork toys,
A lecturer whom papa employs
Proceeds to prussia
Our modest ways
And guileless character--

Kal: Our well-known blush--our downcast eyes--
Our famous look of mild surprise.

Nek: (Which competition still defies)--
Our celebrated "Sir!!!"

Kal: Then all the crowd take down our looks
In pocket memorandum books.
To diagnose
Our modest pose
The Kodaks do their best:

Nek: If evidence you would possess
Of what is maiden bashfulness
You need only a button press--

Kal: And we will do the rest.

Enter Lady Sophy -- an English lady of mature years and extreme
gravity
of demeanour and dress. She carries a lecturer's wand in her
hand. She is led on by the King, who expresses great regard
and
admiration for her.

RECITATIVE -- Lady Sophy

This morning we propose to illustrate
A course of maiden courtship, from the start
To the triumphant matrimonial finish.

(Through the following song the two Princesses illustrate in
gesture
the description given by Lady Sophy.)

SONG -- Lady Sophy

Bold-faced ranger
(Perfect stranger)
Meets two well-behaved young ladies.
He's attractive,
Young and active--
Each a little bit afraid is.
Youth advances,
At his glances
To their danger they awaken;
They repel him
As they tell him
He is very much mistaken.
Though they speak to him politely,
Please observe they're sneering slightly,
Just to show he's acting vainly.
This is Virtue saying plainly
"Go away, young bachelor,
We are not what you take us for!"
When addressed impertinently,
English ladies answer gently,
"Go away, young bachelor,
We are not what you take us for!"

As he gazes,
Hat he raises,
Enters into conversation.
Makes excuses--
This produces
Interesting agitation.
He, with daring,
Undespairing,
Give his card--his rank discloses
Little heeding
This proceeding,
They turn up their little noses.
Pray observe this lesson vital--
When a man of rank and title
His position first discloses,
Always cock your little noses.
When at home, let all the class
Try this in the looking glass.
English girls of well bred notions,
Shun all unrehearsed emotions.
English girls of highest class
Practice them before the glass.

His intentions
Then he mentions.
Something definite to go on--
Makes recitals
Of his titles,
Hints at settlements, and so on.
Smiling sweetly,
They, discreetly,
Ask for further evidences:
Thus invited,
He, delighted,
Gives the usual references:
This is business. Each is fluttered
When the offer's fairly uttered.
"Which of them has his affection?"
He declines to make selection.
Do they quarrel for his dross?
Not a bit of it--they toss!
Please observe this cogent moral--
English ladies never quarrel.
When a doubt they come across,
English ladies always toss.

RECITATIVE -- Lady Sophy

The lecture's ended. In ten minute's space
'Twill be repeated in the market-place!

(Exit Lady Sophy, followed by Nekaya and
Kalyba.)

Chorus: Quaff the nectar--cull the roses--
Bashful girls will soon be plenty!
Maid who thus at fifteen poses
Ought to be divine at twenty!

(Exeunt all but
KING.)

King: I requested Scaphio and Phantis to be so good as to favor
me
with an audience this morning. (Enter SCAPHIO and
PHANTIS.)
Oh, here they are!

Scaphio: Your Majesty wished to speak with us, I believe.
You--you
needn't keep your crown on, on our account, you know.

King: I beg your pardon. (Removes it.) I always forget that!
Odd, the notion of a King not being allowed to wear one
of
his own crowns in the presence of two of his own
subjects.

Phantis: Yes--bizarre, is it not?

King: Most quaint. But then it's a quaint world.

Phantis: Teems with quiet fun. I often think what a lucky thing
it
is that you are blessed with such a keen sense of humor!

King: Do you know, I find it invaluable. Do what I will, I
cannot
help looking at the humorous side of things--for,
properly
considered, everything has its humorous side--even the
Palace Peeper (producing it). See here--"Another Royal
Scandal," by Junius Junior. "How long is this to last?"
by
Senex Senior. "Ribald Royalty," by Mercury Major.
"Where
is the Public Exploder?" by Mephistopheles Minor. When
I
reflect that all these outrageous attacks on my morality
are
written by me, at your command--well, it's one of the
funni-
est things that have come within the scope of my
experience.

Scaphio: Besides, apart from that, they have a quiet humor of
their
own which is simply irresistible.

King: (gratified) Not bad, I think. Biting, trenchant
sarcasm--the rapier, not the bludgeon--that's my line.
But
then it's so easy--I'm such a good subject--a bad King
but a
good Subject--ha! ha!--a capital heading for next week's
leading article! (makes a note) And then the stinging
little paragraphs about our Royal goings-on with our
Royal
Second Housemaid--delicately sub-acid, are they not?

Scaphio: My dear King, in that kind of thing no one can hold a
candle
to you.

Phantis: But the crowning joke is the Comic Opera you've written
for
us--"King Tuppence, or A Good Deal Less than Half a
Sover-
eign"--in which the celebrated English tenor, Mr.
Wilkinson,
burlesques your personal appearance and gives grotesque
imitations of your Royal peculiarities. It's immense!

King: Ye--es--That's what I wanted to speak to you about. Now
I've not the least doubt but that even that has its
humorous
side too--if one could only see it. As a rule I'm pretty
quick at detecting latent humor--but I confess I do not
quite see where it comes in, in this particular instance.
It's so horribly personal!

Scaphio: Personal? Yes, of course it's personal--but consider the
antithetical humor of the situation.

King: Yes. I--I don't think I've quite grasped that.

Scaphio: No? You surprise me. Why, consider. During the day
thou-
sands tremble at your frown, during the night (from 8 to
11)
thousands roar at it. During the day your most arbitrary
pronouncements are received by your subjects with abject
submission--during the night, they shout with joy at your
most terrible decrees. It's not every monarch who enjoys
the privilege of undoing by night all the despotic
absurdi-
ties he's committed during the day.

King: Of course! Now I see it! Thank you very much. I was
sure
it had its humorous side, and it was very dull of me not
to
have seen it before. But, as I said just now, it's a
quaint
world.

Phantis: Teems with quiet fun.

King: Yes. Properly considered, what a farce life is, to be
sure!

SONG -- King.

First you're born--and I'll be bound you
Find a dozen strangers round you.
"Hallo," cries the new-born baby,
"Where's my parents? which may they be?"
Awkward silence--no reply--
Puzzled baby wonders why!
Father rises, bows politely--
Mother smiles (but not too brightly)--
Doctor mumbles like a dumb thing--
Nurse is busy mixing something.--
Every symptom tends to show
You're decidedly de trop--

All: Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!
Time's teetotum,
If you spin it,
Gives it quotum
Once a minute.
I'll go bail
You hit the nail,
And if you fail,
The deuce is in it!

King: You grow up and you discover
What it is to be a lover.
Some young lady is selected--
Poor, perhaps, but well-connected.
Whom you hail (for Love is blind)
As the Queen of fairy kind.
Though she's plain--perhaps unsightly,
Makes her face up--laces tightly,
In her form your fancy traces
All the gifts of all the graces.
Rivals none the maiden woo,
So you take her and she takes you.