The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan

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King: No peeress at our drawing-room before the Presence passes
Who wouldn't be accepted by the lower middle-classes.
Each shady dame, whatever be her rank, is bowed out
neatly.

Chorus: In short, this happy country has been Anglicized
completely
Is really is surprising
What a thorough Anglicizing
We have brought about--Utopia's quite another land;
In her enterprising movements,
She is England--with improvements,
Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land!

King: Our city we have beautified--we've done it willy-nilly--
And all that isn't Belgrave Square is Strand and
Piccadilly.

Chorus: We haven't any slummeries in England!

King: The chamberlain our native stage has purged beyond a
ques-
tion.
Of "risky" situation and indelicate suggestion;
No piece is tolerated if it's costumed indiscreetly--

Chorus: In short this happy country has been Anglicized com-
pletely!
It really is surprising, etc.

King: Our peerage we've remodelled on an intellectual basis,
Which certainly is rough on our hereditary races--

Chorus: We are going to remodel it in England.

King: The Brewers and the Cotton Lords no longer seek
admission,
And literary merit meets with proper recognition--

Chorus: As literary merit does in England!

King: Who knows but we may count among our intellectual
chickens
Like you, an Earl of Thackery and p'r'aps a Duke of
Dickens--
Lord Fildes and Viscount Millais (when they come) we'll
welcome sweetly--

Chorus: In short, this happy country has been Anglicized
completely!
It really is surprising, etc.

(At the end all rise and replace their chairs.)

King: Now, then for our first Drawing-Room. Where are the
Prin-
cesses? What an extraordinary thing it is that since
Euro-
pean looking-glasses have been supplied to the Royal bed-
rooms my daughters are invariably late!

Lord D.: Sir, their Royal Highnesses await your pleasure in the
Ante-room.

King: Oh. Then request them to do us the favor to enter at
once.

(Enter all the Royal Household, including (besides the Lord
Chamber-
lain) the Vice-Chamberlain, the Master of the Horse, the
Master
of the Buckhounds, the Lord High Treasurer, the Lord Steward,
the
Comptroller of the Household, the Lord-in-Waiting, the Field
Officer in Brigade Waiting, the Gold and Silver Stick, and the
Gentlemen Ushers. Then enter the three Princesses (their
trains
carried by Pages of Honor), Lady Sophy, and the
Ladies-in-Waiting.)

King: My daughters, we are about to attempt a very solemn
ceremo-
nial, so no giggling, if you please. Now, my Lord
Chamber-
lain, we are ready.

Lord D.: Then, ladies and gentlemen, places, if you please. His
Maj-
esty will take his place in front of the throne, and will
be
so obliging as to embrace all the debutantes. (LADY
SOPHY
much shocked.)

King: What--must I really?

Lord D.: Absolutely indispensable.

King: More jam for the Palace Peeper!

(The King takes his place in front of the throne, the Princess Zara
on
his left, the two younger Princesses on the left of Zara.)

King: Now, is every one in his place?

Lord D.: Every one is in his place.

King: Then let the revels commence.

(Enter the ladies attending the Drawing-Room. They give their
cards
to the Groom-in-Waiting, who passes them to the
Lord-in-Waiting,
who passes them to the Vice-Chamberlain, who passes them to
the
Lord Chamberlain, who reads the names to the King as each lady
approaches. The ladies curtsey in succession to the King and
the
three Princesses, and pass out. When all the presentations
have
been accomplished, the King, Princesses, and Lady Sophy come
forward, and all the ladies re-enter.)

RECITATIVE -- King

This ceremonial our wish displays
To copy all Great Britain's courtly ways.
Though lofty aims catastrophe entail,
We'll gloriously succeed or nobly fail!

UNACCOMPANIED CHORUS

Eagle High in Cloudland soaring--
Sparrow twittering on a reed--
Tiger in the jungle roaring--
Frightened fawn in grassy mead--
Let the eagle, not the sparrow,
Be the object of your arrow--
Fix the tiger with your eye--
Pass the fawn in pity by.
Glory then will crown the day--
Glory, glory, anyway!

Exit
all.

Enter Scaphio and Phantis, now dressed as judges in red and ermine
robes
and undress wigs. They come down stage melodramatically --
working together.

DUET -- Scaphio and Phantis.

Sca.: With fury deep we burn

Phan.: We do--

Sca.: We fume with smothered rage--

Phan.: We do--

Sca.: These Englishmen who rule supreme,
Their undertaking they redeem
By stifling every harmless scheme
In which we both engage--

Phan.: They do--

Sca.: In which we both engage--

Phan.: We think it is our turn--

Sca.: We do--

Phan.: We think our turn has come--

Sca.: We do.

Phan.: These Englishmen, they must prepare
To seek at once their native air.
The King as heretofore, we swear,
Shall be beneath our thumb--

Sca.: He shall--

Phan.: Shall be beneath out thumb--

Sca.: He shall.

Both: (with great energy)
For this mustn't be, and this won't do.
If you'll back me, then I'll back you,
No, this won't do,
No, this mustn't be.
With fury deep we burn...

Enter the King.

King: Gentlemen, gentlemen--really! This unseemly display of
energy within the Royal precincts is altogether unpardon-
able. Pray, what do you complain of?

Scaphio: (furiously) What do we complain of? Why, through the
innovations introduced by the Flowers of Progress all our
harmless schemes for making a provision for our old age
are
ruined. Our Matrimonial Agency is at a standstill, our
Cheap Sherry business is in bankruptcy, our Army Clothing
contracts are paralyzed, and even our Society paper, the
Palace Peeper, is practically defunct!

King: Defunct? Is that so? Dear, dear, I am truly sorry.

Scaphio: Are you aware that Sir Bailey Barre has introduced a law
of
libel by which all editors of scurrilous newspapers are
pub-
licly flogged--as in England? And six of our editors
have
resigned in succession! Now, the editor of a scurrilous
paper can stand a good deal--he takes a private thrashing
as
a matter of course--it's considered in his salary--but no
gentleman likes to be publicly flogged.

King: Naturally. I shouldn't like it myself.

Phantis: Then our Burlesque Theater is absolutely ruined!

King: Dear me. Well, theatrical property is not what it was.

Phantis: Are you aware that the Lord Chamberlain, who has his own
views as to the best means of elevating the national
drama,
has declined to license any play that is not in blank
verse
and three hundred years old--as in England?

Scaphio: And as if that wasn't enough, the County Councillor has
or-
dered a four-foot wall to be built up right across the
proscenium, in case of fire--as in England.

Phantis: It's so hard on the company--who are liable to be roasted
alive--and this has to be met by enormously increased
salaries--as in England.

Scaphio: You probably know that we've contracted to supply the
entire
nation with a complete English outfit. But perhaps you
do
not know that, when we send in our bills, our customers
plead liability limited to a declared capital of
eighteenpence, and apply to be dealt with under the
Winding-up Act--as in England?

King: Really, gentlemen, this is very irregular. If you will
be
so good as to formulate a detailed list of your
grievances
in writing, addressed to the Secretary of Utopia Limited,
they will be laid before the Board, in due course, at
their
next monthly meeting.

Scaphio: Are we to understand that we are defied?

King: That is the idea I intended to convey.

Phantis: Defied! We are defied!

Scaphio: (furiously) Take care--you know our powers. Trifle with
us, and you die!

TRIO -- Scaphio, Phantis, and King.

Sca.: If you think that, when banded in unity,
We may both be defied with impunity,
You are sadly misled of a verity!

Phan.: If you value repose and tranquility,
You'll revert to a state of docility,
Or prepare to regret your temerity!

King.: If my speech is unduly refractory
You will find it a course satisfactory
At an early Board meeting to show it up.
Though if proper excuse you can trump any,
You may wind up a Limited Company,
You cannot conveniently blow it up!

(Scaphio and Phantis thoroughly baffled)

King.: (Dancing quietly)
Whene'er I chance to baffle you
I, also, dance a step or two--
Of this now guess the hidden sense:

(Scaphio and Phantis consider the question as King continues
dancing
quietly--then give it up.)

It means complete indifference!

Sca. and Phan.: Of course it does--indifference!
It means complete indifference!

(King dancing quietly. Sca. and Phan. dancing furiously.)

Sca. and Phan.: As we've a dance for every mood
With pas de trois we will conclude,
What this may mean you all may guess--
It typifies remorselessness!

King.: It means unruffled cheerfulness!

(King dances off placidly as Scaphio and Phantis dance furiously.)

Phantis: (breathless) He's right--we are helpless! He's no
longer a
human being--he's a Corporation, and so long as he
confines
himself to his Articles of Association we can't touch
him!
What are we to do?

Scaphio: Do? Raise a Revolution, repeal the Act of Sixty-Two,
recon-
vert him into an individual, and insist on his immediate
ex-
plosion! (Tarara enters.) Tarara, come here; you're the
very man we want.

Tarara: Certainly, allow me. (Offers a cracker to each; they
snatch
them away impatiently.) That's rude.

Scaphio: We have no time for idle forms. You wish to succeed to
the
throne?

Tarara: Naturally.

Scaphio: Then you won't unless you join us. The King has defied
us,
and, as matters stand, we are helpless. So are you. We
must devise some plot at once to bring the people about
his
ears.

Tarara: A plot?

Phantis: Yes, a plot of superhuman subtlety. Have you such a
thing
about you?

Tarara: (feeling) No, I think not. No. There's one on my
dressing-table.

Scaphio: We can't wait--we must concoct one at once, and put it
into
execution without delay. There is not a moment to spare!

TRIO -- Scaphio, Phantis, and Tarara.

Ensemble

With wily brain upon the spot
A private plot we'll plan,
The most ingenious private plot
Since private plots began.
That's understood. So far we've got
And, striking while the iron's hot,
We'll now determine like a shot
The details of this private plot.

Sca.: I think we ought--(whispers)
Phan. and Tar.: Such bosh I never heard!
Phan.: Ah! happy thought!--(whispers)
Sca. and Tar.: How utterly dashed absurd!
Tar.: I'll tell you how--(whispers)
Sca and Phan.: Why, what put that in your head?
Sca.: I've got it now--(whispers)
Phan. and Tar.: Oh, take him away to bed!
Phan.: Oh, put him to bed!
Tar.: Oh, put him to bed!
Sca.: What, put me to bed?
Phan. and Tar.: Yes, certainly put him to bed!
Sca.: But, bless me, don't you see--
Phan.: Do listen to me, I pray--
Tar.: It certainly seems to me--
Sca.: Bah--this is the only way!
Phan.: It's rubbish absurd you growl!
Tar.: You talk ridiculous stuff!
Sca.: You're a drivelling barndoor owl!
Phan.: You're a vapid and vain old muff!

(All, coming down to audience.)

So far we haven't quite solved the plot--
They're not a very ingenious lot--
But don't be unhappy,
It's still on the tapis,
We'll presently hit on a capital plot!

Sca.: Suppose we all--(whispers)
Phan.: Now there I think you're right.
Then we might all--(whispers)
Tar.: That's true, we certainly might.
I'll tell you what--(whispers)
Sca.: We will if we possibly can.
Then on the spot-- (whispers)
Phan. and Tar.: Bravo! A capital plan!
Sca.: That's exceedingly neat and new!
Phan.: Exceedingly new and neat.
Tar.: I fancy that that will do.
Sca.: It's certainly very complete.
Phan.: Well done you sly old sap!
Tar.: Bravo, you cunning old mole!
Sca.: You very ingenious chap!
Phan.: You intellectual soul!

(All, coming down and addressing audience.)

At last a capital plan we've got
We won't say how and we won't say what:
It's safe in my noddle--
Now off we will toddle,
And slyly develop this capital plot!

(Business. Exeunt Scaphio and Phantis in one direction, and Tarara
in
the other.)

(Enter Lord Dramaleigh and Mr. Goldbury.)

Lord D.: Well, what do you think of our first South Pacific
Drawing-Room? Allowing for a slight difficulty with the
trains, and a little want of familiarity with the use of
the
rouge-pot, it was, on the whole, a meritorious affair?

Gold.: My dear Dramaleigh, it redounds infinitely to your
credit.

Lord D.: One or two judicious innovations, I think?

Gold.: Admirable. The cup of tea and the plate of mixed
biscuits
were a cheap and effective inspiration.

Lord D.: Yes--my idea entirely. Never been done before.

Gold.: Pretty little maids, the King's youngest daughters, but
timid.

Lord D.: That'll wear off. Young.

Gold.: That'll wear off. Ha! here they come, by George! And
with-
out the Dragon! What can they have done with her?

(Enter Nekaya and Kalyba timidly.)

Nekaya: Oh, if you please, Lady Sophy has sent us in here,
because
Zara and Captain Fitzbattleaxe are going on, in the
garden,
in a manner which no well-conducted young ladies ought to
witness.

Lord D.: Indeed, we are very much obliged to her Ladyship.

Kalyba: Are you? I wonder why.

Nekaya: Don't tell us if it's rude.

Lord D.: Rude? Not at all. We are obliged to Lady Sophy because
she
has afforded us the pleasure of seeing you.

Nekaya: I don't think you ought to talk to us like that.

Kalyba: It's calculated to turn our heads.

Nekaya: Attractive girls cannot be too particular.

Kalyba: Oh pray, pray do not take advantage of our unprotected
inno-
cence.

Gold.: Pray be reassured--you are in no danger whatever.

Lord D.: But may I ask--is this extreme delicacy--this shrinking
sensitiveness--a general characteristic of Utopian young
ladies?

Nekaya: Oh no; we are crack specimens.

Kalyba: We are the pick of the basket. Would you mind not coming
quite so near? Thank you.

Nekaya: And please don't look at us like that; it unsettles us.

Kalyba: And we don't like it. At least, we do like it; but it's
wrong.

Nekaya: We have enjoyed the inestimable privilege of being
educated
by a most refined and easily shocked English lady, on the
very strictest English principles.

Gold.: But, my dear young ladies---

Kalyba: Oh, don't! You mustn't. It's too affectionate.

Nekaya: It really does unsettle us.

Gold.: Are you really under the impression that English girls
are
so ridiculously demure? Why, an English girl of the
highest
type is the best, the most beautiful, the bravest, and
the
brightest creature that Heaven has conferred upon this
world
of ours. She is frank, open-hearted, and fearless, and
never shows in so favorable a light as when she gives her
own blameless impulses full play!

Nekaya Oh, you shocking story!
and
Kalyba:

Gold.: Not at all. I'm speaking the strict truth. I'll tell
you
all about her.

SONG -- Mr. Goldbury.

A wonderful joy our eyes to bless,
In her magnificent comeliness,
Is an English girl of eleven stone two,
And five foot ten in her dancing shoe!
She follows the hounds, and on the pounds--
The "field" tails off and the muffs diminish--

Over the hedges and brooks she bounds,
Straight as a crow, from find to finish.
At cricket, her kin will lose or win--
She and her maids, on grass and clover,
Eleven maids out--eleven maids in--
And perhaps an occasional "maiden over!"

Go search the world and search the sea,
Then come you home and sing with me
There's no such gold and no such pearl
As a bright and beautiful English girl!

With a ten-mile spin she stretches her limbs,
She golfs, she punts, she rows, she swims--
She plays, she sings, she dances, too,
From ten or eleven til all is blue!
At ball or drum, til small hours come
(Chaperon's fans concealing her yawning)
She'll waltz away like a teetotum.
And never go home til daylight's dawning.
Lawn-tennis may share her favours fair--
Her eyes a-dance, and her cheeks a-glowing--
Down comes her hair, but then what does she care?
It's all her own and it's worth the showing!
Go search the world, etc.

Her soul is sweet as the ocean air,
For prudery knows no haven there;
To find mock-modesty, please apply
To the conscious blush and the downcast eye.
Rich in the things contentment brings,
In every pure enjoyment wealthy,
Blithe and beautiful bird she sings,
For body and mind are hale and healthy.
Her eyes they thrill with right goodwill--
Her heart is light as a floating feather--
As pure and bright as the mountain rill
That leaps and laughs in the Highland heather!
Go search the world, etc.

QUARTET

Nek.: Then I may sing and play?

Lord D.: You may!

Kal.: Then I may laugh and shout?

Gold.: No doubt!.

Nek.: These maxims you endorse?

Lord D.: Of course!

Kal.: You won't exclaim "Oh fie!"

Gold.: Not I!

Gold: Whatever you are--be that:
Whatever you say--be true:
Straightforwardly act--
Be honest--in fact,
Be nobody else but you.

Lord D.: Give every answer pat--
Your character true unfurl;
And when it is ripe,
You'll then be a type
Of a capital English girl.

All.: Oh sweet surprise--oh, dear delight,
To find it undisputed quite,
All musty, fusty rules despite
That Art is wrong and Nature right!

Nek.: When happy I,
With laughter glad
I'll wake the echoes fairly,
And only sigh
When I am sad--
And that will be but rarely!

Kal.: I'll row and fish,
And gallop, soon--
No longer be a prim one--
And when I wish
To hum a tune,
It needn't be a hymn one?

Gold and Lord D.: No, no!
It needn't be a hymn one!

All (dancing): Oh, sweet surprise and dear delight
To find it undisputed quite--
All musty, fusty rules despite--
That Art is wrong and Nature right!

(Dance, and
off)
(Enter Lady Sophy)

RECITATIVE -- Lady Sophy.

Oh, would some demon power the gift impart
To quell my over-conscientious heart--
Unspeak the oaths that never had been spoken,
And break the vows that never should be broken!

SONG -- Lady Sophy

When but a maid of fifteen year,
Unsought--unplighted--
Short petticoated--and, I fear,
Still shorter-sighted--
I made a vow, one early spring,
That only to some spotless King
Who proof of blameless life could bring
I'd be united.
For I had read, not long before,
Of blameless kings in fairy lore,
And thought the race still flourished here--
Well, well--
I was a maid of fifteen year!

(The King enters and overhears this verse)

Each morning I pursued my game
(An early riser);
For spotless monarchs I became
An advertiser:
But all in vain I searched each land,
So, kingless, to my native strand
Returned, a little older, and
A good deal wiser!

I learnt that spotless King and Prince
Have disappeared some ages since--
Even Paramount's angelic grace--
Ah me!--
Is but a mask on Nature's face!
(King comes forward)

King: Ah, Lady Sophy--then you love me!
For so you sing--

Lady S.: (Indignant and surprise. Producing "Palace Peeper")
No, by the stars that shine above me,
Degraded King!
For while these rumours, through the city bruited,
Remain uncontradicted, unrefuted,
The object thou of my aversion rooted,
Repulsive thing!

King: Be just--the time is now at hand
When truth may published be.
These paragraphs were written and
Contributed by me!

Lady S.: By you? No, no!

King: Yes, yes. I swear, by me!
I, caught in Scaphio's ruthless toil,
Contributed the lot!

Lady S.: That that is why you did not boil
The author on the spot!

King: And that is why I did not boil
The author on the spot!

Lady S.: I couldn't think why you did not boil!

King: But I know why I did not boil
The author on the spot!

DUET -- Lady Sophy and King

Lady S.: Oh, the rapture unrestrained
Of a candid retractation!
For my sovereign has deigned
A convincing explanation--
And the clouds that gathered o'er
All have vanished in the distance,
And the Kings of fairy lore
One, at least, is in existence!