The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan

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BUN. Finished! At last! Finished!

[He staggers, overcome with the mental strain, into the arms of
the COLONEL.]

COLONEL Are you better now?

BUN. Yes -- oh, it's you! -- I am better now. The poem is
finished, and my soul has gone out into it. That was all. It
was nothing worth mentioning, it occurs three times a day.

[Sees PATIENCE, who has entered during this scene.]

Ah, Patience! Dear Patience!

[Holds her hand; she seems frightened.]

ANGELA Will it please you read it to us, sir?

SAPHIR This we supplicate. [All kneel.]

BUN. Shall I?

DRAGOONS No!

BUN. [annoyed -- to PATIENCE] I will read it if you bid me!

PATIENCE [much frightened] You can if you like!

BUN. It is a wild, weird, fleshy thing; yet very tender, very
yearning, very precious. It is called, "Oh, Hollow! Hollow!
Hollow!"

PATIENCE Is it a hunting song?

BUN. A hunting song? No, it is not a hunting song. It is the
wail of the poet's heart on discovering that everything is
commonplace. To understand it, cling passionately to one another
and think of faint lilies.
[They do so as he recites]

"OH, HOLLOW! HOLLOW! HOLLOW!"

What time the poet hath hymned
The writhing maid, lithe-limbed,
Quivering on amaranthine asphodel,
How can he paint her woes,
Knowing, as well he knows,
That all can be set right with calomel?

When from the poet's plinth
The amorous colocynth
Yearns for the aloe, faint with rapturous thrills,
How can he hymn their throes
Knowing, as well he knows,
That they are only uncompounded pills?

Is it, and can it be,
Nature hath this decree,
Nothing poetic in the world shall dwell?
Or that in all her works
Something poetic lurks,
Even in colocynth and calomel?
I cannot tell.

[He goes off, L.U.E. All turn and watch him, not speaking until
he has gone.]

ANGELA How purely fragrant!

SAPHIR How earnestly precious!

PATIENCE Well, it seems to me to be nonsense.

SAPHIR Nonsense, yes, perhaps -- but oh, what precious nonsense!

COLONEL This is all very well, but you seem to forget that you
are engaged to us.

SAPHIR It can never be. You are not Empyrean. You are not
Della Cruscan. You are not even Early English. Oh, be Early
English ere it is too late!

[Officers look at each other in astonishment.]

JANE [looking at uniform] Red and Yellow! Primary colors! Oh,
South Kensington!

DUKE We didn't design our uniforms, but we don't see how they
could be improved!

JANE No, you wouldn't. Still, there is a cobwebby grey velvet,
with a tender bloom like cold gravy, which, made Florentine
fourteenth century, trimmed with Venetian leather and Spanish
altar lace, and surmounted with something Japanese -- it matters
not what -- would at least be Early English! Come, maidens.

[Exeunt Maidens, L.U.E., two and two, singing refrain of "Twenty
love-sick maidens we". PATIENCE goes off L. The Officers
watch the Ladies go off in astonishment.]

No. 4a. Twenty love-sick maidens we
(Chorus)
Maidens

[As the MAIDENS depart, the DRAGOONS spread across the stage.]

MAIDENS Twenty love-sick maidens we,
Love-sick all against our will.
Twenty years hence we shall be
Twenty love-sick maidens still!
Ah, miserie!

DUKE Gentlemen, this is an insult to the British uniform.

COLONEL A uniform that has been as successful in the courts of
Venus as on the field of Mars!

No. 5. When I first put this uniform on
(Solo and Chorus)
Colonel and Dragoons

[The DRAGOONS form their original line.]

Song -- COLONEL

When I first put this uniform on,
I said, as I looked in the glass,
"It's one to a million
That any civilian
My figure and form will surpass.
Gold lace has a charm for the fair,
And I've plenty of that, and to spare,
While a lover's professions,
When uttered in Hessians,
Are eloquent ev'rywhere!"
A fact that I counted upon,
When I first put this uniform on!

Chorus of DRAGOONS

By a simple coincidence, few
Could ever have counted upon,
The same thing occurred to me,
When I first put this uniform on!

COL. I said, when I first put it on,
"It is plain to the veriest dunce,
That every beauty
Will feel it her duty
To yield to its glamour at once.
They will see that I'm freely gold-laced
In a uniform handsome and chaste"--
But the peripatetics
Of long-haired aesthetics
Are very much more to their taste--
Which I never counted upon,
When I first put this uniform on!

CHORUS By a simple coincidence, few
Could ever have reckoned upon,
I didn't anticipate that,
When I first put this uniform on!

[The DRAGOONS go off angrily, R.]

[Enter BUNTHORNE, L.U.E., who changes his manner and becomes
intensely melodramatic.]

No. 6. Am I alone and unobserved?
(Recitative and Solo)
Bunthorne

BUN. [Up-stage, he looks off L. and R.]
Am I alone,
And unobserved? I am!
[comes down]
Then let me own
I'm an aesthetic sham!
[and walks tragically to down-stage, C.]

This air severe
Is but a mere
Veneer!

This cynic smile
Is but a wile
Of guile!

This costume chaste
Is but good taste
Misplaced!

Let me confess!
A languid love for Lilies does not blight me!
Lank limbs and haggard cheeks do not delight me!
I do not care for dirty greens
By any means.
I do not long for all one sees
That's Japanese.
I am not fond of uttering platitudes
In stained-glass attitudes.
In short, my mediaevalism's affectation,
Born of a morbid love of admiration!

[Tiptoes up-stage, looking L. and R., and comes back down, C.]

If you're anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic line as a
man of culture rare,
You must get up all the germs of the transcendental terms, and
plant them ev'rywhere.
You must lie upon the daisies and discourse in novel phrases of
your complicated state of mind,
The meaning doesn't matter if it's only idle chatter of a
transcendental kind.

And ev'ry one will say,
As you walk your mystic way,
"If this young man expresses himself in terms too deep for me,
Why, what a very singularly deep young man this deep young man
must be!"

Be eloquent in praise of the very dull old days which have long
since passed away,
And convince 'em, if you can, that the reign of good Queen Anne
was Culture's palmiest day.
Of course you will pooh-pooh whatever's fresh and new, and
declare it's crude and mean,
For Art stopped short in the cultivated court of the Empress
Josephine.

And ev'ryone will say,
As you walk your mystic way,
"If that's not good enough for him which is good enough for me,
Why, what a very cultivated kind of youth this kind of youth must
be!"

Then a sentimental passion of a vegetable fashion must excite
your languid spleen,
An attachment a la Plato for a bashful young potato, or a not-
too-French French bean!
Though the Philistines may jostle, you will rank as an apostle in
the high aesthetic band,
If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily in your
medieval hand.

And ev'ryone will say,
As you walk your flow'ry way,
"If he's content with a vegetable love which would certainly not
suit me,
Why, what a most particularly pure young man this pure young man
must be!"

[At the end of his song, PATIENCE enters, L. He sees her.]

BUN. Ah! Patience, come hither. [She comes to him timidly.] I
am pleased with thee. The bitter-hearted one, who finds all else
hollow, is pleased with thee. For you are not hollow. Are you?

PATIENCE No, thanks, I have dined; but -- I beg your pardon -- I
interrupt you. [Turns to go; he stops her.]

BUN. Life is made up of interruptions. The tortured soul,
yearning for solitude, writhes under them. Oh, but my heart is
a-weary! Oh, I am a cursed thing! [She attempts to escape.]
Don't go.

PATIENCE Really, I'm very sorry.

BUN. Tell me, girl, do you ever yearn?

PATIENCE I earn my living.

BUN. [impatiently] No, no! Do you know what it is to be heart-
hungry? Do you know what it is to yearn for the Indefinable, and
yet to be brought face to face, dally, with the Multiplication
Table? Do you know what it is to seek oceans and to find
puddles? That's my case. Oh, I am a cursed thing! [She turns
again.] Don't go.

PATIENCE If you please, I don't understand you -- you frighten me!

BUN. Don't be frightened -- it's only poetry.

PATIENCE Well, if that's poetry, I don't like poetry.

BUN. [eagerly] Don't you? [aside] Can I trust her? [aloud]
Patience, you don't like poetry -- well, between you and me, I
don't like poetry. It's hollow, unsubstantial -- unsatisfactory.
What's the use of yearning for Elysian Fields when you know you
can't get `em, and would only let `em out on building leases if
you had `em?

PATIENCE Sir, I--

BUN. Patience, I have long loved you. Let me tell you a secret.
I am not as bilious as I look. If you like, I will cut my hair.
There is more innocent fun within me than a casual spectator
would imagine. You have never seen me frolicsome. Be a good
girl -- a very good girl -- and one day you shall. If you are
fond of touch-and-go jocularity -- this is the shop for it.

PATIENCE Sir, I will speak plainly. In the matter of love I am
untaught. I have never loved but my great-aunt. But I am quite
certain that, under any circumstances, I couldn't possibly love you.

BUN. Oh, you think not?

PATIENCE I'm quite sure of it. Quite sure. Quite.

BUN. Very good. Life is henceforth a blank. I don't care what
becomes of me. I have only to ask that you will not abuse my
confidence; though you despise me, I am extremely popular with
the other young ladies.

PATIENCE I only ask that you will leave me and never renew the
subject.

BUN. Certainly. Broken-hearted and desolate, I go. [Goes up-
stage, suddenly turns and recites.]

"Oh, to be wafted away,
From this black Aceldama of sorrow,
Where the dust of an earthy to-day
Is the earth of a dusty to-morrow!"

It is a little thing of my own. I call it "Heart Foam". I
shall not publish it. Farewell! Patience, Patience, farewell!

[Exit BUNTHORNE.]

PATIENCE What on earth does it all mean? Why does he love me?
Why does he expect me to love him? [going R.] He's not a
relation! It frightens me!

[Enter ANGELA, L.]

ANGELA Why, Patience, what is the matter?

PATIENCE Lady Angela, tell me two things. Firstly, what on
earth is this love that upsets everybody; and, secondly, how is
it to be distinguished from insanity?

ANGELA Poor blind child! Oh, forgive her, Eros! Why, love is
of all passions the most essential! It is the embodiment of
purity, the abstraction of refinement! It is the one unselfish
emotion in this whirlpool of grasping greed!

PATIENCE Oh, dear, oh! [beginning to cry]

ANGELA Why are you crying?

PATIENCE To think that I have lived all these years without
having experienced this ennobling and unselfish passion! Why,
what a wicked girl I must be! For it is unselfish, isn't it?

ANGELA Absolutely! Love that is tainted with selfishness is no
love. Oh, try, try, try to love! It really isn't difficult if
you give your whole mind to it.

PATIENCE I'll set about it at once. I won't go to bed until I'm
head over ears in love with somebody.

ANGELA Noble girl! But is it possible that you have never loved
anybody?

PATIENCE Yes, one.

ANGELA Ah! Whom?

PATIENCE My great-aunt--

ANGELA Great-aunts don't count.

PATIENCE Then there's nobody. At least -- no, nobody. Not
since I was a baby. But that doesn't count, I suppose.

ANGELA I don't know. Tell me about it.

No. 7. Long years ago, fourteen maybe
(Duet)
Patience and Angela

PATIENCE [R.] Long years ago -- fourteen, maybe,
When but a tiny babe of four,
Another baby played with me,
My elder by a year or more;

A little child of beauty rare,
With marv'lous eyes and wondrous hair,
Who, in my child-eyes, seemed to me
All that a little child should be!

[She goes to ANGELA, L.C.]

Ah, how we loved, that child and I!
How pure our baby joy!
How true our love -- and, by the bye,
He was a little boy!

ANGELA Ah, old, old tale of Cupid's touch!
I thought as much -- I thought as much!
He was a little boy!

PATIENCE Pray don't misconstrue what I say--
Remember, pray -- remember, pray,
He was a little boy!

ANGELA No doubt! Yet, spite of all your pains,
The interesting fact remains -
He was a little boy!

BOTH Ah, yes, in/No doubt, yet spite of all my/your pains,
The interesting fact remains--
He was a little boy!
He was a little boy!

[Exit ANGELA, L.]

PATIENCE [R.C.] It's perfectly dreadful to think of the
appalling state I must be in! I had no idea that love was a
duty. No wonder they all look so unhappy! Upon my word, I
hardly like to associate with myself. I don't think I'm
respectable. I'll go at once and fall in love with... [As she
turns to go up R., GROSVENOR enters, R.U.E. She sees him and
turns back.] a stranger!

No. 8. Prithee, pretty maiden
(Duet)
Patience and Grosvenor

GROSVENOR [up-stage, R. ] Prithee, pretty maiden -- prithee,
tell me true,
(Hey, but I'm doleful, willow willow waly!)
Have you e'er a lover a-dangling after you?
Hey willow waly O!
[coming down-stage]

I would fain discover
If you have a lover!
Hey willow waly O!

PATIENCE [L.] Gentle sir, my heart is frolicsome and free--
(Hey, but he's doleful, willow willow waly!)
Nobody I care for comes a-courting me--
Hey willow waly O!
Nobody I care for
Comes a-courting -- therefore,
Hey willow waly O!

GROSVENOR [C.] Prithee, pretty maiden, will you marry me?
(Hey, but I'm hopeful, willow willow waly!)
I may say, at once, I'm a man of propertee--
Hey willow waly O!
Money, I despise it;
Many people prize it,
Hey willow waly O!

PATIENCE Gentle Sir, although to marry I design--
(Hey, but he's hopeful, willow willow waly!)
As yet I do not know you, and so I must decline.
Hey willow waly O!
To other maidens go you--
As yet I do not know you,

BOTH Hey willow waly O!

GROS. Patience! Can it be that you don't recognize me?

PATIENCE [down L.] Recognize you? No, indeed I don't!

GROS. Have fifteen years so greatly changed me?

PATIENCE [turning to him] Fifteen years? What do you mean?

GROS. Have you forgotten the friend of your youth, your
Archibald? -- your little playfellow? Oh, Chronos, Chronos, this
is too bad of you! [Comes down, C.]

PATIENCE Archibald! Is it possible? Why, let me look! It is!
It is! [takes his hands.] It must be! Oh, how happy I am! I
thought we should never meet again! And how you've grown!

GROS. Yes, Patience, I am much taller and much stouter than I
was.

PATIENCE And how you've improved!

GROS. [dropping her hands and turning] Yes, Patience, I am very
beautiful! [Sighs.]

PATIENCE But surely that doesn't make you unhappy?

GROS. Yes, Patience. Gifted as I am with a beauty which
probably has not its rival on earth, I am, nevertheless, utterly
and completely miserable.

PATIENCE Oh -- but why?

GROS. My child-love for you has never faded. Conceive, then,
the horror of my situation when I tell you that it is my hideous
destiny to be madly loved at first sight by every woman I come
across!

PATIENCE But why do you make yourself so picturesque? Why not
disguise yourself, disfigure yourself, anything to escape this
persecution?

GROS. No, Patience, that may not be. These gifts -- irksome as
they are -- were given to me for the enjoyment and delectation of
my fellow-creatures. I am a trustee for Beauty, and it is my
duty to see that the conditions of my trust are faithfully
discharged.

PATIENCE And you, too, are a Poet?

GROS. Yes, I am the Apostle of Simplicity. I am called
"Archibald the All-Right" -- for I am infallible!

PATIENCE And is it possible that you condescend to love such a
girl as I?

GROS. Yes, Patience, is it not strange? I have loved you with a
Florentine fourteenth-century frenzy for full fifteen years!

PATIENCE Oh, marvelous! I have hitherto been deaf to the voice
of love. I seem now to know what love is! It has been revealed
to me -- it is Archibald Grosvenor!

GROS. Yes, Patience, it is! [She goes into his arms.]

PATIENCE [as in a trance] We will never, never part!

GROS. We will live and die together!

PATIENCE I swear it!

GROS. We both swear it!

PATIENCE [recoiling from him] But -- oh, horror!

GROS. What's the matter?

PATIENCE Why, you are perfection! A source of endless ecstasy
to all who know you!

GROS. I know I am. Well?

PATIENCE Then, bless my heart, there can be nothing unselfish in
loving you!

GROS. Merciful powers! I never thought of that!

PATIENCE To monopolize those features on which all women love to
linger! It would be unpardonable!

GROS. Why, so it would! Oh, fatal perfection, again you
interpose between me and my happiness!

PATIENCE Oh, if you were but a thought less beautiful than you
are!

GROS. Would that I were; but candour compels me to admit that
I'm not!

PATIENCE Our duty is clear; we must part, and for ever!

GROS. Oh, misery! And yet I cannot question the propriety of
your decision. Farewell, Patience!

PATIENCE Farewell, Archibald! [they both turn to go.]
[suddenly] But stay!

GROS. Yes, Patience?

PATIENCE Although I may not love you -- for you are perfection -
- there is nothing to prevent your loving me. I am plain,
homely, unattractive!

GROS. Why, that's true!

PATIENCE The love of such a man as you for such a girl as I must
be unselfish!

GROS. Unselfishness itself!

No. 8a. Though to marry you would very selfish be
(Duet)
Patience and Grosvenor

PATIENCE Though to marry you would very selfish be--

GROSVENOR Hey, but I'm doleful -- willow willow waly!

PATIENCE You may, all the same, continue loving me --

GROSVENOR Hey willow waly O!

BOTH All the world ignoring,
You'll/I'll go on adoring--
Hey, willow waly O!

[They go off sadly -- PATIENCE, L., GROSVENOR, R.U.E.]

No. 9. Let the merry cymbals sound
(Finale of Act I)
Ensemble

[Enter BUNTHORNE, crowned with roses and hung about with
garlands, and looking very miserable. He is led by ANGELA
and SAPHIR (each of whom holds an end of the rose-garland by
which he is bound), and accompanied by procession of
Maidens. They are dancing classically, and playing on
cymbals, double pipes, and other archaic instruments. JANE
last, with a very large pair of cymbals.]

[The procession enters over the drawbridge, BUNTHORNE being
preceded by the Chorus. They go R. and round the stage,
ending with BUNTHORNE down L.C., with ANGELA on his R.,
SAPHIR on his L., JANE up C.]

MAIDENS Let the merry cymbals sound,
Gaily pipe Pandaean pleasure,
With a Daphnephoric bound
Tread a gay but classic measure,
Tread a gay but classic measure.
Ev'ry heart with hope is beating,
For, at this exciting meeting
Fickle Fortune will decide
Who shall be our Bunthorne's bride!

Ev'ry heart with hope is beating,
For, at this exciting meeting
Fickle Fortune will decide
Who shall be our Bunthorne's bride!

Let the merry cymbals sound,
Gaily pipe Pandaean pleasure,
With a Daphnephoric bound
Tread a gay but classic, classic measure,
Tread a gay but classic, classic measure,
A classic measure.

[DRAGOONS enter down R., forming a line diagonally up to up-
stage, C.]

Chorus of Dragoons

Now tell us, we pray you,
Why thus they array you--
Oh, poet, how say you--
What is it you've [optional -- you have] done?

Now tell us, we pray you,
Why thus they array you--
Oh, poet, how say you--
What is it you've done?
Oh, poet, how say you--
What is it you've done?

DUKE [C.] Of rite sacrificial,
By sentence judicial,
This seems the initial,
Then why don't you run?

COLONEL [R.C.] They cannot have led you
To hang or behead you,
Nor may they all wed you,
Unfortunate one!

DRAGOONS Then tell us, we pray you,
Why thus they array you--
Oh, poet, how say you--
What is it you've done?

[optional -- Enter SOLICITOR.]

BUNTHORNE Heart-broken at my Patience's barbarity,
By the advice of my solicitor
In aid -- in aid of a deserving charity,
I've put myself up to be raffled for!

[He introduces his solicitor.]

MAIDENS By the advice of his solicitor,
He's put himself up to be raffled for!

DRAGOONS Oh, horror! urged by his solicitor,
He's put himself up to be raffled for!

MAIDENS Oh, heaven's blessing on his solicitor!

DRAGOONS A hideous curse on his solicitor!

MAIDENS Oh, heaven's blessing on his solicitor!

DRAGOONS A hideous curse on his solicitor!

MAIDENS DRAGOONS

A blessing on his solicitor! A curse, a curse on his
solicitor!

[The SOLICITOR, horrified at the Dragoons' curse, rushes off, L.]

COLONEL [R.C. BUNTHORNE up L., surrounded by the Ladies.]
Stay, we implore you,
Before our hopes are blighted;
You see before you
The men to whom you're plighted!

DRAGOONS Stay, we implore you,
For we adore you;
To us you're plighted
To be united--
Stay, we implore you, we implore you!

DUKE [C.] Your maiden hearts, ah, do not steel
To pity's eloquent appeal,
Such conduct British soldiers feel.
[Aside ] Sigh, sigh, all sigh! [They all sigh.]

To foeman's steel we rarely see
A British soldier bend the knee,
Yet, one and all, they kneel to ye--
[Aside ] Kneel, kneel, all kneel! [They all kneel.]

Our soldiers very seldom cry,
And yet -- I need not tell you why--
A tear-drop dews each martial eye!
[Aside ] Weep, weep, all weep! [They all weep.]

MAIDENS &
DRAGOONS Our/We soldiers very seldom cry,
And yet -- they/we need not tell us/you why--

ABOVE &
DUKE A tear-drop dews each eye/martial eye!
Weep, weep, all weep!

[The Solicitor re-enters]

BUNTHORNE [coming briskly forward, L.C.]
Come, walk up, and purchase with avidity,
Overcome your diffidence and natural timidity,
Tickets for the raffle should be purchased with avidity,
Put in half a guinea and a husband you may gain--
Such a judge of blue-and-white and other kinds of pottery--
From early Oriental down to modern terra-cottary--
Put in half a guinea -- you may draw him in a lottery--
Such an opportunity may not occur again.