The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan

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CHORUS. No, he will not contradict you!

LISA. Who am I to raise objection?
I'm a child, untaught and homely--
When you tell me you're perfection,
Tender, truthful, true, and comely--
That in quarrel no one's bolder,
Though dissensions always grieve you--
Why, my love, you're so much older
That, of course, I must believe you!

CHORUS. Yes, of course, she must believe you!

CHORUS.
If he ever acts unkindly,
Shut your eyes and love him blindly--
Should he call you names uncomely,
Shut your mouth and love him dumbly--
Should he rate you, rightly--leftly--
Shut your ears and love him deafly.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Thus and thus and thus alone
Ludwig's wife may hold her own!

(LUDWIG and LISA sit at table.)

Enter NOTARY TANNHAUSER.

NOT. Hallo! Surely I'm not late? (All chatter
unintelligibly in reply.)
NOT. But, dear me, you're all at breakfast! Has the
wedding taken place? (All chatter unintelligibly in reply.)
NOT. My good girls, one at a time, I beg. Let me
understand the situation. As solicitor to the conspiracy to
dethrone the Grand Duke--a conspiracy in which the members of
this company are deeply involved--I am invited to the marriage of
two of its members. I present myself in due course, and I find,
not only that the ceremony has taken place--which is not of the
least consequence --but the wedding breakfast is half
eaten--which is a consideration of the most serious importance.

(LUDWIG and LISA come down.)

LUD. But the ceremony has not taken place. We can't get a
parson!
NOT. Can't get a parson! Why, how's that? They're three
a
penny!
LUD. Oh, it's the old story--the Grand Duke!
ALL. Ugh!
LUD. It seems that the little imp has selected this, our
wedding day, for a convocation of all the clergy in the town to
settle the details of his approaching marriage with the
enormously wealthy Baroness von Krakenfeldt, and there won't be a
parson to be had for love or money until six o'clock this
evening!
LISA. And as we produce our magnificent classical revival
of Troilus and Cressida to-night at seven, we have no alternative
but to eat our wedding breakfast before we've earned it. So sit
down, and make the best of it.
GRET. Oh, I should like to pull his Grand Ducal ears for
him, that I should! He's the meanest, the cruellest, the most
spiteful little ape in Christendom!
OLGA. Well, we shall soon be freed from his tyranny.
To-morrow the Despot is to be dethroned!
LUD. Hush, rash girl! You know not what you say.
OLGA. Don't be absurd! We're all in it--we're all tiled,
here.
LUD. That has nothing to do with it. Know ye not that in
alluding to our conspiracy without having first given and
received the secret sign, you are violating a fundamental
principle of our Association?

SONG--LUDWIG.

By the mystic regulation
Of our dark Association,
Ere you open conversation
With another kindred soul,
You must eat a sausage-roll! (Producing one.)

ALL. You must eat a sausage-roll!

LUD. If, in turn, he eats another,
That's a sign that he's a brother--
Each may fully trust the other.
It is quaint and it is droll,
But it's bilious on the whole.

ALL. Very bilious on the whole.

LUD. It's a greasy kind of pasty,
Which, perhaps, a judgement hasty
Might consider rather tasty:
Once (to speak without disguise)
It found favour in our eyes.

ALL. It found favour in our eyes.

LUD. But when you've been six months feeding
(As we have) on this exceeding
Bilious food, it's no ill-breeding
If at these repulsive pies
Our offended gorges rise!

ALL. Our offended gorges rise!

MARTHA. Oh, bother the secret sign! I've eaten it until
I'm quite uncomfortable! I've given it six times already
to-day--and (whimpering) I can't eat any breakfast!
BERTHA. And it's so unwholesome. Why, we should all be as
yellow as frogs if it wasn't for the make-up!
LUD. All this is rank treason to the cause. I suffer as
much as any of you. I loathe the repulsive thing--I can't
contemplate it without a shudder--but I'm a conscientious
conspirator, and if you won't give the sign I will. (Eats
sausage-roll with an effort.)
LISA. Poor martyr! He's always at it, and it's a wonder
where he puts it!
NOT. Well now, about Troilus and Cressida. What do you
play?
LUD. (struggling with his feelings). If you'll be so
obliging as to wait until I've got rid of this feeling of warm
oil at the bottom of my throat, I'll tell you all about it.
(LISA gives him some brandy.) Thank you, my love; it's gone.
Well, the piece will be produced upon a scale of unexampled
magnificence. It is confidently predicted that my appearance as
King Agamemnon, in a Louis Quatorze wig, will mark an epoch in
the theatrical annals of Pfennig Halbpfennig. I endeavoured to
persuade Ernest Dummkopf, our manager, to lend us the classical
dresses for our marriage. Think of the effect of a real Athenian
wedding procession cavorting through the streets of Speisesaal!
Torches burning--cymbals banging--flutes tootling--citharae
twanging--and a throng of fifty lovely Spartan virgins capering
before us, all down the High Street, singing "Eloia! Eloia!
Opoponax, Eloia!" It would have been tremendous!
NOT. And he declined?
LUD. He did, on the prosaic ground that it might rain, and
the ancient Greeks didn't carry umbrellas! If, as is confidently
expected, Ernest Dummkopf is elected to succeed the dethroned
one, mark any words, he will make a mess of it.
[Exit LUDWIG with LISA.
OLGA. He's sure to be elected. His entire company has
promised to plump for him on the understanding that all the
places about the Court are filled by members of his troupe,
according to professional precedence.

ERNEST enters in great excitement.

BERTHA (looking off). Here comes Ernest Dummkopf. Now we
shall know all about it!
ALL. Well--what's the news? How is the election going?
ERN. Oh, it's a certainty--a practical certainty! Two of
the candidates have been arrested for debt, and the third is a
baby in arms--so, if you keep your promises, and vote solid, I'm
cocksure of election!
OLGA. Trust to us. But you remember the conditions?
ERN. Yes--all of you shall be provided for, for life.
Every man shall be ennobled--every lady shall have unlimited
credit at the Court Milliner's, and all salaries shall be paid
weekly in advance!
GRET. Oh, it's quite clear he knows how to rule a Grand
Duchy!
ERN. Rule a Grand Duchy? Why, my good girl, for ten years
past I've ruled a theatrical company! A man who can do that can
rule anything!

SONG--ERNEST.

Were I a king in very truth,
And had a son--a guileless youth--
In probable succession;
To teach him patience, teach him tact,
How promptly in a fix to act,
He should adopt, in point of fact,
A manager's profession.
To that condition he should stoop
(Despite a too fond mother),
With eight or ten "stars" in his troupe,
All jealous of each other!
Oh, the man who can rule a theatrical crew,
Each member a genius (and some of them two),
And manage to humour them, little and great,
Can govern this tuppenny State!

ALL. Oh, the man, etc.

Both A and B rehearsal slight--
They say they'll be "all right at night"
(They've both to go to school yet);
C in each act must change her dress,
D will attempt to "square the press";
E won't play Romeo unless
His grandmother plays Juliet;
F claims all hoydens as her rights
(She's played them thirty seasons);
And G must show herself in tights
For two convincing reasons--
Two very well-shaped reasons!
Oh, the man who can drive a theatrical team,
With wheelers and leaders in order supreme,
Can govern and rule, with a wave of his fin,
All Europe--with Ireland thrown in!

ALL. Oh, the man, etc.
[Exeunt all but ERNEST.

ERN. Elected by my fellow-conspirators to be Grand Duke of
Pfennig Halbpfennig as soon as the contemptible little occupant
of the historical throne is deposed--here is promotion indeed!
Why, instead of playing Troilus of Troy for a month, I shall play
Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig for a lifetime! Yet, am I
happy? No--far from happy! The lovely English comdienne--the
beautiful Julia, whose dramatic ability is so overwhelming that
our audiences forgive even her strong English accent--that rare
and radiant being treats my respectful advances with disdain
unutterable! And yet, who knows? She is haughty and ambitious,
and it may be that the splendid change in my fortunes may work a
corresponding change in her feelings towards me!

Enter JULIA JELLICOE.

JULIA. Herr Dummkopf, a word with you, if you please.
ERN. Beautiful English maiden--
JULIA. No compliments, I beg. I desire to speak with you
on a
purely professional matter, so we will, if you please, dispense
with
allusions to my personal appearance, which can only tend to widen
the
breach which already exists between us.
ERN. (aside). My only hope shattered! The haughty
Londoner
still despises me! (Aloud.) It shall be as you will.
JULIA. I understand that the conspiracy in which we are
all
concerned is to develop to-morrow, and that the company is likely
to elect you to the throne on the understanding that the posts
about the Court are to be filled by members of your theatrical
troupe, according to their professional importance.
ERN. That is so.
JULIA. Then all I can say is that it places me in an
extremely awkward position.
ERN. (very depressed). I don't see how it concerns you.
JULIA. Why, bless my heart, don't you see that, as your
leading lady, I am bound under a serious penalty to play the
leading part in all your productions?
ERN. Well?
JULIA. Why, of course, the leading part in this production
will be the Grand Duchess!
ERN. My wife?
JULIA. That is another way of expressing the same idea.
ERN. (aside--delighted). I scarcely dared even to hope
for
this!
JULIA. Of course, as your leading lady, you'll be mean
enough to hold me to the terms of my agreement. Oh, that's so
like a man! Well, I suppose there's no help for it--I shall have
to do it!
ERN. (aside). She's mine! (Aloud.) But--do you really
think you would care to play that part? (Taking her hand.)
JULIA (withdrawing it). Care to play it? Certainly
not--but what am I to do? Business is business, and I am bound
by the terms of my agreement.
ERN. It's for a long run, mind--a run that may last many,
many years--no understudy--and once embarked upon there's no
throwing it up.
JULIA. Oh, we're used to these long runs in England: they
are the curse of the stage--but, you see, I've no option.
ERN. You think the part of Grand Duchess will be good
enough for you?
JULIA. Oh, I think so. It's a very good part in
Gerolstein, and oughtn't to be a bad one in Pfennig Halbpfennig.
Why, what did you suppose I was going to play?
ERN. (keeping up a show of reluctance) But, considering
your strong personal dislike to me and your persistent rejection
of my repeated offers, won't you find it difficult to throw
yourself into the part with all the impassioned enthusiasm that
the character seems to demand? Remember, it's a strongly
emotional part, involving long and repeated scenes of rapture,
tenderness, adoration, devotion--all in luxuriant excess, and all
of the most demonstrative description.
JULIA. My good sir, throughout my career I have made it a
rule never to allow private feeling to interfere with my
professional duties. You may be quite sure that (however
distasteful the part may be) if I undertake it, I shall consider
myself professionally bound to throw myself into it with all the
ardour at my command.
ERN. (aside--with effusion). I'm the happiest fellow
alive!
(Aloud.) Now--would you have any objection--to--to give me some
idea--if it's only a mere sketch--as to how you would play it?
It would be really interesting--to me--to know your conception
of--of--the part of my wife.
JULIA. How would I play it? Now, let me see--let me see.
(Considering.) Ah, I have it!

BALLAD--JULIA.

How would I play this part--
The Grand Duke's Bride?
All rancour in my heart
I'd duly hide--
I'd drive it from my recollection
And 'whelm you with a mock affection,
Well calculated to defy detection--
That's how I'd play this part--
The Grand Duke's Bride.

With many a winsome smile
I'd witch and woo;
With gay and girlish guile
I'd frenzy you--
I'd madden you with my caressing,
Like turtle, her first love confessing--
That it was "mock", no mortal would be
guessing,
With so much winsome wile
I'd witch and woo!

Did any other maid
With you succeed,
I'd pinch the forward jade--
I would indeed!
With jealous frenzy agitated
(Which would, of course, be simulated),
I'd make her wish she'd never been created--
Did any other maid
With you succeed!

And should there come to me,
Some summers hence,
In all the childish glee
Of innocence,
Fair babes, aglow with beauty vernal,
My heart would bound with joy diurnal!
This sweet display of sympathy maternal,
Well, that would also be
A mere pretence!

My histrionic art
Though you deride,
That's how I'd play that part--
The Grand Duke's Bride!

ENSEMBLE.
ERNEST. JULIA.
Oh joy! when two glowing young My boy, when two
glowing
hearts, young hearts

From the rise of the curtain, From the rise of the
curtain,
Thus throw themselves into their Thus throw themselves
into
their parts, parts,
Success is most certain! Success is most
certain!
If the role you're prepared to endow The role I'm prepared
to
endow
With such delicate touches, With most delicate
touch-
es,
By the heaven above us, I vow By the heaven above us,
I
vow
You shall be my Grand Duchess! I will be your Grand
Duchess!

(Dance.)

Enter all the Chorus with LUDWIG, NOTARY,
and LISA--all greatly agitated.

EXCITED CHORUS.

My goodness me! What shall we do ? Why, what a dreadful
situation!
(To LUD.) It's all your fault, you booby you--you lump of
indiscrimination!
I'm sure I don't know where to go--it's put me into such a
tetter--
But this at all events I know--the sooner we are off, the
better!

ERN. What means this agitato? What d'ye seek?
As your Grand Duke elect I bid you speak!

SONG--LUDWIG.

Ten minutes since I met a chap
Who bowed an easy salutation--
Thinks I, "This gentleman, mayhap,
Belongs to our Association."
But, on the whole,
Uncertain yet,
A sausage-roll
I took and eat--
That chap replied (I don't embellish)
By eating three with obvious relish.

CHORUS (angrily). Why, gracious powers,
No chum of ours
Could eat three sausage-rolls with relish!

LUD. Quite reassured, I let him know
Our plot--each incident explaining;
That stranger chuckled much, as though
He thought me highly entertaining.
I told him all,
Both bad and good;
I bade him call--
He said he would:
I added much--the more I muckled,
The more that chuckling chummy chuckled!

ALL (angrily). A bat could see
He couldn't be
A chum of ours if he chuckled!

LUD. Well, as I bowed to his applause,
Down dropped he with hysteric bellow--
And that seemed right enough, because
I am a devilish funny fellow.
Then suddenly,
As still he squealed,
It flashed on me
That I'd revealed
Our plot, with all details effective,
To Grand Duke Rudolph's own detective!

ALL. What folly fell,
To go and tell
Our plot to any one's detective!

CHORUS.

(Attacking LUDWIG.) You booby dense--
You oaf immense,
With no pretence
To common sense!
A stupid muff
Who's made of stuff
Not worth a puff
Of candle-snuff!

Pack up at once and off we go, unless we're anxious to exhibit
Our fairy forms all in a row, strung up upon the Castle gibbet!

[Exeunt Chorus. Manent LUDWIG, LISA,
ERNEST, JULIA, and NOTARY.
JULIA. Well, a nice mess you've got us into! There's an
end of our precious plot! All up--pop--fizzle--bang--done for!
LUD. Yes, but--ha! ha!--fancy my choosing the Grand Duke's
private detective, of all men, to make a confidant of! When you
come to think of it, it's really devilish funny!
ERN. (angrily). When you come to think of it, it's
extremely injudicious to admit into a conspiracy every
pudding-headed baboon who presents himself!
LUD. Yes--I should never do that. If I were chairman of
this gang, I should hesitate to enrol any baboon who couldn't
produce satisfactory credentials from his last Zoological
Gardens.
LISA. Ludwig is far from being a baboon. Poor boy, he
could not help giving us away--it's his trusting nature--he was
deceived.
JULIA (furiously). His trusting nature! (To LUDWIG.) Oh,
I should like to talk to you in my own language for five
minutes--only five minutes! I know some good, strong, energetic
English remarks that would shrivel your trusting nature into
raisins--only you wouldn't understand them!
LUD. Here we perceive one of the disadvantages of a
neglected education!
ERN. (to JULIA). And I suppose you'll never be my Grand
Duchess now!
JULIA. Grand Duchess? My good friend, if you don't
produce
the piece how can I play the part?
ERN. True. (To LUDWIG.) You see what you've done.
LUD. But, my dear sir, you don't seem to understand that
the man ate three sausage-rolls. Keep that fact steadily before
you. Three large sausage-rolls.
JULIA. Bah!--Lots of people eat sausage-rolls who are not
conspirators.
LUD. Then they shouldn't. It's bad form. It's not the
game. When one of the Human Family proposes to eat a
sausage-roll, it is his duty to ask himself, "Am I a
conspirator?" And if, on examination, he finds that he is not a
conspirator, he is bound in honour to select some other form of
refreshment.
LISA. Of course he is. One should always play the game.
(To NOTARY, who has been smiling placidly through this.) What
are you grinning at, you greedy old man?
NOT. Nothing--don't mind me. It is always amusing to the
legal mind to see a parcel of laymen bothering themselves about a
matter which to a trained lawyer presents no difficulty whatever.
ALL. No difficulty!
NOT. None whatever! The way out of it is quite simple.
ALL. Simple?
NOT. Certainly! Now attend. In the first place, you two
men fight a Statutory Duel.
ERN. A Statutory Duel?
JULIA. A Stat-tat-tatutory Duel! Ach! what a crack-jaw
language this German is!
LUD. Never heard of such a thing.
NOT. It is true that the practice has fallen into abeyance
through disuse. But all the laws of Pfennig Halbpfennig run for
a hundred years, when they die a natural death, unless, in the
meantime, they have been revived for another century. The Act
that institutes the Statutory Duel was passed a hundred years
ago, and as it has never been revived, it expires to-morrow. So
you're just in time.
JULIA. But what is the use of talking to us about
Statutory
Duels when we none of us know what a Statutory Duel is?
NOT. Don't you? Then I'll explain.

SONG--NOTARY.

About a century since,
The code of the duello
To sudden death
For want of breath
Sent many a strapping fellow.
The then presiding Prince
(Who useless bloodshed hated),
He passed an Act,
Short and compact,
Which may be briefly stated.
Unlike the complicated laws
A Parliamentary draftsman draws,
It may be briefly stated.

ALL. We know that complicated laws,
Such as a legal draftsman draws,
Cannot be briefly stated.

NOT. By this ingenious law,
If any two shall quarrel,
They may not fight
With falchions bright
(Which seemed to him immoral);
But each a card shall draw,
And he who draws the lowest
Shall (so 'twas said)
Be thenceforth dead--
In fact, a legal "ghoest"
(When exigence of rhyme compels,
Orthography forgoes her spells,
And "ghost" is written "ghoest").

ALL (aside) With what an emphasis he dwells
Upon "orthography" and "spells"!
That kind of fun's the lowest.

NOT. When off the loser's popped
(By pleasing legal fiction),
And friend and foe
Have wept their woe
In counterfeit affliction,
The winner must adopt
The loser's poor relations--
Discharge his debts,
Pay all his bets,
And take his obligations.

In short, to briefly sum the case,
The winner takes the loser's place,
With all its obligations.

ALL. How neatly lawyers state a case!
The winner takes the loser's place,
With all its obligations!

LUD. I see. The man who draws the lowest card--
NOT. Dies, ipso facto, a social death. He loses all his
civil rights--his identity disappears--the Revising Barrister
expunges his name from the list of voters, and the winner takes
his place, whatever it may be, discharges all his functions, and
adopts all his responsibilities.
ERN. This is all very well, as far as it goes, but it only
protects one of us. What's to become of the survivor?
LUD. Yes, that's an interesting point, because I might be
the survivor.
NOT. The survivor goes at once to the Grand Duke, and, in
a
burst of remorse, denounces the dead man as the moving spirit of
the plot. He is accepted as King's evidence, and, as a matter of
course, receives a free pardon. To-morrow, when the law expires,
the dead man will, ipso facto, come to life again--the Revising
Barrister will restore his name to the list of voters, and he
will resume all his obligations as though nothing unusual had
happened.
JULIA. When he will be at once arrested, tried, and
executed on the evidence of the informer! Candidly, my friend, I
don't think much of your plot!
NOT. Dear, dear, dear, the ignorance of the laity! My
good
young lady, it is a beautiful maxim of our glorious Constitution
that a man can only die once. Death expunges crime, and when he
comes to life again, it will be with a clean slate.
ERN. It's really very ingenious.
LUD. (to NOTARY). My dear sir, we owe you our lives!
LISA (aside to LUDWIG). May I kiss him?
LUD. Certainly not: you're a big girl now. (To ERNEST.)
Well, miscreant, are you prepared to meet me on the field of
honour?
ERN. At once. By Jove, what a couple of fire-eaters we
are!
LISA. Ludwig doesn't know what fear is.
LUD. Oh, I don't mind this sort of duel!
ERN. It's not like a duel with swords. I hate a duel with
swords. It's not the blade I mind--it's the blood.
LUD. And I hate a duel with pistols. It's not the ball I
mind--it's the bang.
NOT. Altogether it is a great improvement on the old
method
of giving satisfaction.