ML 
 50 
 S94 
 C8+ 
 
 
 I'Jfl " 
 
 
 SULLIVAN 
 
 Cox dnetbox 
 
 Kiiii 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 MUSIC 
 
 Cornell Unlvarslty Library 
 ML 50.S94C8 
 
 Cox and Box / 
 
 3 1924 017 960 638 
 
SOUVENIR AND LIBRETTO 
 OPERA COMPANY 
 
 (^aM^^ a4<d huxluAmM, 
 
 OPERAS 
 
 COX AND BOX 
 
 H. M. S. PINAFORE 
 
'ffB ih 
 
 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924017960638 
 
The Unique Triumvirate Which Originated the 
 GILBERT & SULLIVAN OPERAS 
 
 
 
 
GILBERT and SULLIVAN 
 J DOYLY CARTE 
 
 ?■■ 
 
 "When most people recall the artistic significance of 
 Elizabethan England, they think inevitably of Shakespeare. 
 In much the same way the most distinctive dramatic feature 
 of the Victorian epoch discloses itself as the unique series 
 of operas of Gilbert and Sullivan. Though they were all 
 produced during the reign of Victoria, the operas are in no 
 sense Victorian in the narrow sense of the term. They are 
 not period pieces, but live because, like Shakespeare's work 
 itself, they touch the universals of life. Even then, it is 
 very doubtful whether they would have had the chance 
 of developing and continuing to attract but for the finely 
 understanding management of Richard D'Oyly Carte, who, 
 amid many differences of temperament in the two, made 
 their collaboration possible.'" 
 
 The story of Gilbert and Sullivan is extraordinarily 
 interesting. They did not meet till 1871, when ■ Frederick 
 Clay, the composer of "I'll sing thee songs of Araby," 
 brought them together: and their meeting was not a real 
 success till 187?, when D'Oyly Carte re-introduced them 
 in the delicious "Trial by Jury." In the case of all three 
 there had been a long period of preparation, as there really 
 is in all so-called miracles. 
 
 William Schwenck Gilbert (1836-1911) —his middle 
 name did not stand for any German blood — was born, 
 like Sullivan and D'Oyly Carte, in London, seeing the 
 light in a house within a stone's throw of the Savoy Theatre, 
 which rose on the foundations of their united effort. Though 
 born into a literary household, he did not begin writing 
 till he was twenty-two, and then in the uncongenial atmos- 
 phere of a government office varied by the discipline of 
 a Highland militia regiment. 
 
 Arthur Seymour Sullivan (1842-1900), the son of an 
 army bandmaster, was more precocious, for the first music 
 he composed, an anthem, was at the age of eight, and 
 another was sung when he was thirteen by the Chapel 
 Royal at St. James' Palace, of which he was one of the 
 scarlet-and-gold gowned Choristers. He had been born 
 near the Archbishop of Canterbury's ancient palace of 
 Lambeth, and he and some of his contemporaries long be- 
 lieved that church music was his metier, whereas it is the 
 music he wrbte to Gilbert's words which ensures his fame. 
 
 Richard D'Oyly Carte (1844-1901), born not far from 
 the theatre where "Trial by Jury" was produced, came, like 
 Sullivan, of/m,usical stock, his father being a flutist and 
 partner qf a musical instrument firm: and he himself com- 
 posed an ojieretta at the age of four and twenty. Such were 
 the elements placed in the crucible, and it was D'Oyly 
 Carte who "set them to simmer" and gave us the unique 
 product known all the world over as Savoy Opera. 
 
 It came about in this way. Carte was manager to 
 Seliha Dolaro, who was presenting Offenbach's "La Peri- 
 chole" at the Royalty Theatre, still standing in Dean 
 Street, Soho, not far from where he had been born. Want- 
 ing a curtain raiser, he got Gilbert to supply a libretto — 
 based on a short sketch he had contributed in 1868 to the 
 weekly comic Fun — to music by Sullivan. "Trial by Jury" 
 which was the result, and which remains as fresh as ever, 
 was produced at the Royalty on March 25, 1875 — annus 
 mirabilis — and took the town by storm, for everybody felt 
 that something unique and wholly new had been achieved. 
 
 But nobody saw the possibility of more work of the 
 same kind so unerringly as Richard D'Oyly Carte, who 
 formed a Comedy Opera Company to concentrate on their 
 combined work, beginning with "The Sorcerer," produced 
 at the Opera Comique, long since vanished, in the Strand, 
 on November 17, 1877. Yet, optimistic and far-sighted 
 as he was, not even D'Oyly Carte probably foresaw that 
 the combination would last until eleven more operas had 
 been produced during the next nineteen years (1877-1896), 
 introducing, from first to last, no fewer than a hundred 
 and fifty-six different characters, independent of the chorus, 
 one of them. Pooh Bah in "The Mikado" taking his place 
 as firmly in the gallery of great stage figures as FalstafI 
 himself. Nor probably did any of the three imagine that 
 Gilbert and' Sullivan opera would be as living and adored 
 a force as it is to-day, over sixty years after it was first 
 introduced to a wholly delighted world. It is surely the 
 story of the mustard seed in excelsis: and here it is back 
 to America, which saw its first Gilbert and Sullivan in 
 Boston on November 25, 1878. "The Sorcerer" was followed 
 with ever increasing success by "H. M. S. Pinafore" and 
 "The Pirates of Penzance." 
 
 The next great step was Carte's creation of the per- 
 fect and permanent home for Gilbert and Sullivan. So 
 he built the Savoy Theatre, the first in London to be hghted 
 by electricity — and it was opened on October 10, 1881, 
 with the continued run of "Patience," the fourth of the 
 series, and the marvellous series was absolutely unbroken till 
 the end of the run of "The Gondoliers," produced in 1889. 
 
 Why, you may ask, did Savoy 'Opera capture from the 
 first the imagination of the public, whom it still holds 
 generation after generation, as no other product of the 
 modern stage does? There are various reasons. To begin 
 with, Gilbert raised libretto to a fine art: with the result 
 that he is practically the only librettist whose name is as 
 well known to the average playgoer as that of the composer. 
 That had never been done before, and it has not been done 
 since to anything like the same extent. When you t&nk of 
 
the miserable librettos which Schikaneder and D.i Ponte 
 supplied to Mozart, you marvel that, with all his supreme 
 genius, he was ever able to write music to it. Certain it is, 
 the lyrics of his librettist can never have suggested to him 
 a line of the music which he wrote for them. As a symbol 
 of the importance of his contribution, note that Gilbert 
 called his songs "lyrics," and not "numbers," as a later and 
 more slovenly generation does. Gilbert, moreover, insisted 
 that his text should be spoken as he wrote it, and not 
 gagged and maltreated by every new interpreter: and, being 
 a martinet as a stage producer, though the word was not 
 yet invented — he insisted on a uniform method of presen- 
 tation, which bears an unmistakable hall mark anywhere. 
 
 A marvellous jingler, rising at times, and almost in spite 
 of himself, to fine poetry — for Gilbert's essentially English 
 genius lay in the region of what is now called "debunking" 
 human folly — Gilbert set Sullivan singing on the instant, 
 so that words and music dovetail into one another as if 
 they were the products of the same mind, like the philosophy 
 of the Gondolier twin kings. The result is that words are 
 remembered by an audience in a way unmatched by any 
 other librettist, and scores of his lines have become an in- 
 tegral part of our speech, so that the latest anthololgist of 
 quotations actually inventories over seventy of them. 
 
 The Savoy Operas then, were not only produced per 
 fectly from the very start, but they have continued being 
 played perfectly down all the years. This has been due to 
 the unique continuity of management and stage directorship 
 from first to last, made possible through the D'Oyly Carte 
 family. Both Gilbert and Sullivan died without issue. But 
 the tradition so firmly established by the librettist and com- 
 poser themselves, and interpreted so sympathetically by Mr. 
 D'Oyly Carte himself, was carried on by his widow, the 
 late Helen D'Oyly Carte, who did much for the production 
 
 of the operas in America in the early eighties. Since she 
 died in 1913 the tradition has been maintained by Richard 
 D'Oyly Carte's surviving son, Mr. Rupert D'Oyly Carte, 
 who has been brought up in the whole tradition, and who 
 sends the present company to America. 
 
 The remarkable continuity has also been maintained by 
 the fact that the practical stage directorship, during most 
 of the years, has been in the hands of a man who learned 
 the tradition from Gilbert and Sullivan themselves, and who 
 knows to a nicety every nuance, every movement of each 
 opera, and how its creators wished it to be done. 
 
 Under this system the players, generation after genera- 
 tion, have been trained on the same model as the parent 
 company at the Savoy itself. 
 
 The justification for this method is overwhelming. Gilbert 
 and Sullivan were unique — Gilbert especially being so idio- 
 syncratic that he was the beginning and the end of his type 
 of humour. Therefore their operas must be interpreted in 
 their own special manner. The inherited secret of that man- 
 ner is in the hands and hearts of the D'Oyly Carte Company 
 which has toured for over fifty years visiting the large cities 
 on both continents and appearing at intervals at the parent 
 Savoy Theatre, London. 
 
 One of the most valuable assets of the great Gilbert and 
 Sullivan tradition, which should appeal greatly to Amer- 
 icans, who have a subtle ear for authentic diction, has 
 been the preservation of an English, beautifully and ar- 
 ticulately spoken. The preservation of this beautiful English 
 by the Savoyards has been in part automatic, because it 
 is impossible to pronounce Gilbert's verses without a complete 
 evaluation of every syllable — and in many cases, of the 
 rhyme, for Gilbert insisted, as no other librettist has ever 
 insisted, on having his libretto heard by the audience. 
 
 The Pirates of Penzance 
 
^ 
 
 i< 
 
 The Yeoman of the Guard 
 
 The Pirates of Penzance 
 
 The Yeoman of the Guarp 
 
 Patience 
 
 /^ 
 
 lOLANTHE 
 
cox AND BOX 
 
 OR 
 
 THE LONG-LOST BROTHERS. 
 
 TRIUMVIRETTA IN ONE ACT. 
 
 ADAPTED TO THE LYRIC STAGE FROM J. MADDISON MORTON'S FARCE 
 
 OF 
 
 "BOX AND COX," 
 
 BY 
 
 F. C. BURNAND. 
 
 THE MUSIC BY 
 
 ARTHUR S. SULLIVAN. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 James John Cox ... A Journeyman Hatter Baritone 
 
 John James Box ... A Journeyman Printer Tenor 
 
 Sergeant Bouncer ... lA Lodging House Keeper, | __ ^^^-^^^^ 
 
 x^uuiiv.iii>. ( with military remmiscencesj 
 
cox AND BOX. 
 
 No. I. OVERTURE. 
 
 Scene. — A Room; a bed, with curtains closed: three 
 doors ; a window ; a fireplace ; table and chairs. 
 
 Cox, dressed, with the exception of his coat, is looking at 
 himself in a small looking-glass, which he holds in 
 his hand. 
 
 Cox. Eight o'clock! {Knock at door.) Come in! 
 
 Enter Sergeant Bouncer. 
 
 BouN. Good morning, Colonel Cox. Why, you've 
 had your hair cut! 
 
 Cox. Cut ! It strikes me I've had it mowed ! I 
 look as if I'd been cropped for the Army — 
 
 BouN. The Army ! — I recollect when I was in the 
 Militia — 
 
 Cox. Ah ! now he's off on his hobby. [Exit. 
 
 No. 2. SONG.— Bouncer. 
 
 "Rataplan." 
 
 We sounded the trumpet, we beat the drum. 
 Somehow the enemy didn't come. 
 
 So I gave up my horse 
 
 In Her Majesty's force. 
 
 As there wasn't a foeman 
 
 To meet with the yeoman ; 
 
 And so no invasion 
 
 Threatened the nation. 
 
 There wasn't a man 
 
 In the rear or the van. 
 Who found an occasion to sing Rataplan I 
 Rataplan ! Rataplan ! Rataplan ! Rataplan, 
 plan, plem, plan I 
 
 Enter Cox. 
 
 Cox. This comes of having one's hair cut. None of 
 my hats will fit me. By-the-bye, Bouncer, I wish to 
 know how it is that I frequently find my apartment full 
 of smoke ? 
 
 BouN. Why — I suppose the chimney — 
 Cox. The chimney doesn't smoke tobacco. 
 
 I'm 
 
 speaking of tobacco smoke. 
 
 BouN. Why, the gentleman who has got the attics 
 is hardly ever without a pipe in his mouth. 
 
 Cox. Ah I then you mean to say that this gentleman's 
 smoke, instead of emulating the example of all other 
 sorts of smoke, and going up the chimney, thinks proper 
 to affect a singularity by taking the contrary direction ? 
 
 BouN. Why — 
 
 Cox. Then I suppose the gentleman you are speaking 
 of is the individual that I invariably meet coming 
 up stairs when I'm going down, and going down when I'm 
 coming up ? 
 
 BouN. Why— yes— I— 
 
 Cox. I should set him down as a gentleman 
 connected with the printing interest. 
 
 BouN. Yes, sir. Good morning. [Going. 
 
 No. 3. DUET. — Cox AND Bouncer. 
 
 "Stay, Bouncer, Stay." 
 
 Cox {recit.). 
 
 Stay, Bouncer, stay ! 
 
 To me it has occurred 
 
 That now's the time with you to have a word. 
 
 BouN. (aside). 
 
 What can he mean ? 
 
 I tremble — ah ! I tremble I 
 
 Cox. Listen I 
 
 BouN. With pleasure, 
 dissemble. 
 
 {Aside) Yes I I must 
 
 Cox. 
 
 BouN 
 
 Cox. 
 
 BouN 
 
 Cox. 
 
 BouN, 
 
 Cox. 
 
 BOUN. 
 
 Cox. 
 
 Now, coals is coals, as sure as eggs is eggs. 
 Coals haven't souls, no more than they have legs ; 
 But, as you will admit, the case is so. 
 Legs or no legs, my coals contrive to go ! 
 
 , Well, I should say — or as it seems to me — 
 
 Exactly. 
 , Quite so, 
 
 Then we both agree. 
 
 , As we agree, good-day. 
 
 I've something more to say. 
 'Tis not my coals alone. 
 
 Ah ! why this cruel tone? 
 
 But other things as dear as they to me 
 
 Which in that little closet 
 
 I carefully deposit, 
 In them a sure and gradual loss I see. 
 Until their case the poet's words express, 
 Small by degrees and beautifully less. 
 
 And now. Sergeant Bouncer, 
 
 I beg to announce, sir, 
 For ne'er was occasion as this half so good, 
 
 Whate'er may my coals ail, 
 
 These things go by wholesale, 
 My lucifers, candles, tea, sugar and wood. 
 
— IV — 
 
 Both. 
 
 BouN. Mister Cox, Mister Cox, 
 
 My feelings overpower me, 
 
 That his lodger, his friendly lodger 
 
 Should once suspect that Bouncer is— 
 
 Cox. A dodger. 
 
 BouN. As to who takes your coals, wood and all that, 
 It must have been — 
 
 Cox. No 1 no ! 'Twas not the cat I 
 
 BouN. Rataplan, rataplan, I'm a military man, 
 
 Rough, honest, I hope, though unpolished, 
 And I'll bet you a hat, that as to the cat. 
 The cat in the Army's abolished ! 
 
 Cox. Rataplan, rataplan, you're a military man. 
 Honest, I hope, though it doesn't appear, 
 And as to the cat, the treacherous cat. 
 
 If it isn't in the Army, don't have it here. 
 
 Rataplan, rataplan, ). ^ \ a military man, 
 
 [Exit Cox. 
 
 BoUN. He's gone g.t last I I was in fear Mr. Box 
 should come in before Mr. Cox went out. Luckily 
 they've never met yet ; for Mr. Box is hard at work at 
 a newspaper office all night, and doesn't come home till 
 the morning, and Mr. Cox is busy making hats all day 
 long, and doesn't come home till night ; so that I'm 
 getting double rent for my room, and neither of mj' 
 lodgers is any the wiser for it. Now, let me put Mr. 
 Cox's things out of Mr. Box's way. 
 
 Box (without). Pooh— pooh ! Why don't you keep 
 your own side of the staircase, sir ? {Enters — puts his 
 head out of door again, shouting.) It was as much your 
 fault as mine, sir ( I say, sir — it was as much your 
 fault as mine, sir ! 
 
 BouN. Dear, dear, Mr. Box 1 what a temper you are 
 in, to be sure I J declare, you are quite pale. 
 
 Box. What colour would you have a man to be who 
 has been setting up long leaders for a daily paper all 
 night ? 
 
 BouN. Oh, certainly, Mr. Box 1 {Going. 
 
 Box. Stop 1 Can you inform me who the individual 
 is that I invariably encounter going down stairs when 
 I'm coraiing up. and coming up stairs when I'm going 
 down ? 
 
 BouN. {confused). Oh — yes — the gentleman in the 
 attic, sir. 
 
 Box. Oh I There's nothing paiticularly remarkable 
 about him, except his hats. I meet him in all sorts of 
 hats — white hats and black hats — hats with broad brims, 
 and hats with narrow brims ; in short, I have come to the 
 conclusion that he must be associated with the hatting 
 interest. 
 
 BouH. Yes, sir ! And they tell me that's why he 
 took the haitics ! [Exit Bouncer, l. c. d. 
 
 Box. Now, let me see — I've got a rasher of bacon 
 somewhere {feeling in his pockets) — Oh, here it is 
 {produces it, wrapped in paper, an i places it on the table) — 
 and a penny roll. The next tiling is to light the fire. 
 
 {Looking on mantelpiece and taking match box, opens it.) 
 Now, 'pon my life, this is too bad ol Bouncer ! I had a 
 whole box full three days ago, and there's only one ! 
 {Lights the fire, then takes down gridiron.) Bouncer has 
 been using my gridiron ! The last article of consump- 
 tion that 1 cooked upon it was a pork chop, and new it 
 is powerfully impregnated with the odour ol red 
 herrings ! (Places gridiron on fire, and then, with a fork, 
 lays rasher of bacon on the gridiron.) How sleepy I 
 am, to be sure ! 
 
 No. 4. SONG.— Box. 
 
 "A Lullaby." 
 
 Hushed is the bacon on the grid, 
 I'll take a nap and close my eye, 
 Soon shall 1 be nodding, nodding nid, 
 Nid, nodding, nodding, nodding, nodding. 
 Singing lullaby, lullaby, lullaby, 
 Lulla, luUa, lulla, luUa, lullaby. 
 Hush-a-bye, bacon, on the coal top. 
 Till I awaken, there you will stop. 
 Lullaby, lullaby. 
 
 (Enter Cox, l. Delight is depicted on his expressive 
 countenance ; he dances joyously while singing.) 
 
 No. 5. SONG.— Cox. 
 
 "My Master is Punctual." 
 
 Cox. My master is punctual always in business ; 
 Unpunctuality, even slight, is in his 
 Eyes such a crime that on showing my phiz in his 
 Shop, I thought there'd be the devil to pay. 
 
 (Dances with renewed delight.) 
 
 My aged employer, with his physiognomy 
 Shining from soap like a star in astronomy, 
 Said, " Mister Cox, you'll oblige me and honour 
 If you will take this as your holiday. [me 
 
 (Dances with increased delight and satisfaction.) 
 
 Visions of Brighton and back and of Rosherville, 
 
 Cheap fste excursions, already the squash I feel ; 
 
 Fearing the rain, put on my Mackin-tosA / will; 
 
 Now for my breakfast, my ligiit de-jeu-nay. 
 
 Cox. I bought a mutton chop. (Puts chop on table.) 
 Good gracious 1 I've forgot the bread. Hallo ! what's 
 this ? A roll, I declare. Come, that's lucky I Now 
 then to light the fire. Hallo ! (seeing the lucifer box on 
 table). Why, it's empty ! I left one in it— I'll take my 
 oath I did. Why, the fire is lighted ! Where's the 
 griduron ? On the fire, I declare. And what's that 
 on it ? Bacon ? Bacon it is 1 Well, now, 'pon my life, 
 there is a quiet coolness about Bouncer's proceedings 
 that's almost amusing. He takes my last lucifer — my 
 coals — and my gridiron, to cook his breakfast by ! No, 
 no— I can't stand this I Come out of that I (Pokes 
 fork into bacon, and puts it on a plate on the table, then 
 places his chop on the gridiron, which he puts on the fire.) 
 Now then, for my things. (Opens door l., and goes out, 
 slamming the door after him.) 
 
— T — 
 
 Box {suddenly showing his head from behind curtains). 
 Come in ! I wonder how long I've been asleep ! [Sud- 
 denly recollecting.) Goodness gracious! my bacon. 
 [Leaps off bed and runs to the fireplace) Hallo, what's 
 this? A chop? Whose chop? Bouncer's, I'll be 
 bound. He thought to cook his breakfast while I was 
 asleep— with my coals, too— and my gridiron. Ha, ha I 
 B ut Where's my bacon ? [Seeing it on table.) Here it is ! 
 Well, 'pon my life ! And shall I curb my indignation ? 
 Shall I falter in my vengeance ? No ! [Digs the fork 
 into the chop and throws chop out of window. With 
 fork he puts the bacon on the gridiron again.) I may 
 as well lay my breakfast things. [Opens door at r. 
 and exit, slamming door after him.) 
 
 Cox [putting his head in quickly at l. d.). Come in- 
 come in ! [Opens door and enters with a small tray, on 
 which are tea-things, &c., which he places on table L., 
 and suddenly recollects.) Oh, goodness! my chop! 
 [Running to fireplace.) Hallo I what's this ? The bacon 
 again ! Confound it— dash it— damn it— I can't stand 
 this ! [Pokes fork into bacon and flings it out of 
 window, and returns for tea-things ; encounters Box with 
 his tea-things — they come down c. of stage together.) 
 
 No. 6— TRIO. 
 " Who are you, Sir ? " 
 Cox. Who are you, sir ? tell me who ? 
 
 Box. If it comes to that, sir, who are you ? 
 
 Cox, Who are you, sir ? 
 
 Box. What's that to you, sir ? 
 
 Cox. What's that to who, sir ? 
 
 Box. Who, sir ? You, sir ? 
 
 Both [aside). Yes. 'tis the {P^^'J*//! 
 
 Cox and Box [sing together with suppressed fury). 
 Printer, printer, take a hinter, \ 
 Hatter, hatter, cease your clatter, / 
 
 Leave my room, or else shall I 
 Vainly struggle with the fire — 
 With the raging fierce desire 
 
 To do you an injury. 
 
 Cox. Your room ! 
 
 If on that you're bent, 
 Here is my receipt for rent. 
 
 Box. Your receipt is very fine ; 
 
 If you come to that, sir. 
 Here is mine I 
 
 Cox. Thieves ! 
 Box. Murder ! 
 
 Both. Bouncer ! He can settle the {printer'l 
 Turn out the man I 
 Enter Bouncer. 
 Boun. Rataplan, Rataplan, Rataplan, Rataplan ! 
 
 The Three. 
 
 Rataplan, Rataplan, Rataplan, Rataplan. 
 Rataplan, plan, plan, plant 
 
 Box. Instantly remove that hatter I 
 Cox. Immediately turn out that printer I 
 Boon. Well— but, gentlemen- 
 Cox. Explain I 
 
 Box. Explain I Whose room is this ? 
 Cox. Yes — whose room is this? 
 Box. Doesn't it belong to me ? 
 Boun. No I 
 
 Cox. There I You hear, sir — ^it belongs to me I 
 Boun. No — it belongs to both of you I 
 
 gj} Both of us! 
 
 Boun. Gents, don't be angry — but, you see, this 
 gentleman [pointing to Box) only being at home in 
 the daytime, and that gentleman [pointing to Cox) at 
 night, I thought I might venture, until my little back 
 second floor room was ready — 
 
 Cox. \ When will your little back second floor 
 Box. / room be ready ? — 
 
 Boun. Why. to-morrow. 
 
 Cox. I'll take it ! 
 
 Box. So will 1 1 
 
 Boun. Excuse me — but if you both take it, you may 
 just as well stop where you are. 
 
 Both. True. 
 
 Boun. Now don't quarrel, gentlemen. I'll see if I 
 can't get the other room ready this very day. [Exit. 
 
 Cox. What a disgusting position ! 
 
 Box. Will you allow me to observe, if you have 
 not had any exercise to-day, you'd better go out and 
 take it ? 
 
 Cox. I shall not do anything of the sort, sir. 
 
 Box. Very well, sir. 
 
 Cox. Very well, sir ? However, don't let me 
 prevent you from going out. 
 
 Box. Don't flatter yourself, sir. I shall retire to 
 my pillow. 
 
 Cox. I beg your pardon, sir — I cannot allow anvone 
 to rumple my bed. 
 
 Box. Your bed ? Hark ye, sir, can you fight ? 
 
 Cox. No, sir. 
 
 Box. No ? Then come on I 
 
 Cox. Sit down, sir — or I'll instantly call "Police I " 
 
 Box. I say, sir — 
 
 Cox. Well, sir ? 
 
 Box. Although we are doomed to occupy the same 
 room for a few hours longer, I don't see any necessity 
 for our cutting each other's throat, sir. 
 
 Cox. Not at all. It's an operation that I should 
 decidedly object to. 
 
 Box. And, after all, I've no violent animosity against 
 you, sir. 
 
 Cox. Nor have I any rooted antipathy to you, sir. 
 
— t1 — 
 
 Box. Besides, it was all Bouncer's fault, sir. 
 
 Cox. Entirely, sir. 
 
 Box. Very well, sir I 
 
 Cox. Very well, sir I 
 
 Box. Do you sing, sir ? 
 
 Cox. I sometimes dabble in a serenade. 
 
 Box. Then dabble away. 
 
 No. 7.— DUET SERENADE. 
 
 "The Buttercup." 
 
 Cox. The buttercup dwells on the lowly mead, 
 
 The daisy is bright to see ; 
 
 But brighter far are the eyes that read 
 The thoughts in th&heart of me. 
 
 I come by night, I come by day, 
 
 I come in the morn to sing my lay ; 
 
 I know my notes, I count each bar, 
 
 Box. I play on the concertina, the concertina too. 
 
 Cox. Fiddleiddledum. 
 
 Box. Fiddleiddledum, Fiddleiddle, iddle, iddle, 
 
 iddle. 
 I come by night, I come by day, 
 
 Cox. Fiddleiddledum, Fiddleiddledum. 
 
 Box. I come in the mom to sing my lay. 
 
 Cox. Fiddleiddledum, Fiddleiddledum. 
 
 Box. I know my notes, I count each bar. 
 
 And I've learnt a tune on the gay guitar. 
 
 Have you read this month's Bradshaw, sir ? 
 
 No, sir — my wife wouldn't let me. 
 
 Your wife ? 
 
 That is — my intended wife. 
 
 Well, that's the same thing ! I congratulate 
 
 Box. 
 
 Cox. 
 
 Box. 
 
 Cox. 
 
 Box. 
 you. 
 
 Cox. Thank ye. You needn't disturb yourself, sir — 
 — she won't come here. My intended wife happens to 
 be the proprietor of a considerable number of bathing 
 machines — 
 
 Box. Ha ! Where ? 
 
 Cox. At a favourite watering place. How curious 
 you are I 
 
 Box. Not at all. Well? 
 
 Cox. Consequently, in the bathing season — which, 
 luckily, is rather a long one — we see but little of each 
 other. Are you married ? 
 
 Box. Me ? Why — not exactly I 
 
 Cox. Ah i A happy bachelor ? 
 
 Box. Why — ^not precisely ! 
 
 Cox. Oh ! A — ^widower ? 
 
 Box. No — not absolutely. 
 
 Cox. You'll excuse me, sir — but, at present, I don't 
 exactly understand how you can help being one of the 
 three. 
 
 Box. Not help it ? 
 
 Cox. No, sir— not you, nor any other man alive ! 
 Box. Ah ! that may be— but I'm not alive ! 
 Cox. You'll excuse me, sir— but I don't like joking 
 upon such subjects. 
 
 Box. But I am perfectly serious, sir — I've been 
 defunct for the last three years. 
 
 Cox. Will you be quiet, sir ? 
 
 Box. If you won't believe me, I'll refer you to a very 
 large, numerous, and respectable circle of disconsolate 
 friends. 
 
 Cox. My dear sir — my very dear sir — if there does 
 exist any ingenious contrivance whereby a man on 
 the eve of committing matrimony can leave this world, 
 and yet stop in it, I shouldn't be sorry to know it. 
 
 Box. Then there's nothing more easy. Do as I did. 
 
 Cox. I will ! What is it ? 
 
 Box. Drown yourself ! 
 
 Cox. Will you be quiet, sir ? 
 
 Box. Listen : — 
 
 No. 8.— ROMANCE. 
 
 "Not Long Ago." 
 
 Box. Not long ago it was my fate to captivate a widow. 
 At Ramsgate. 
 
 Cox. I, 'tis odd to state, the same at Margate 
 
 did, oh ! 
 Box. By her not liking to be kissed, I thought I'd 
 better try to 
 In the Life Guards or Blues enlist — 
 
 Cox. How odd ! and so did I too ! 
 
 Box. I was not tall enough, they said ; 
 
 Cox. Too short, they said of me. 
 
 Box. The infantry I entered. 
 
 Cox. And I the irdantree ; 
 
 Box. My widow offered to purchase 
 
 My discharge from the marching line, oh I 
 
 Cox. That's odd, coincidentally. 
 
 The very same did mine, oh I 
 
 Box. I hesitated to consent. 
 
 For my consent she waited. 
 I gave it. 
 
 Cox. Ah I with mine I went, 
 
 And never hesitated. 
 
 Box. The happy day came near at length — 
 
 We hoped it would be sunny ; 
 I found I needed all my strength 
 
 To face the ceremony. 
 I suddenly found out I Wcis 
 
 Unworthy to possess her ; 
 I told her so at once because 
 
 I feared it might distress her. 
 Before the words were out of my mouth, 
 There came from the North and flew to the 
 
 South 
 
— vu — 
 
 A something that came unpleasantly near, 
 Clattering, spattering, battering, shattering, 
 Dashing, clashing, smashing, flashing, slashing, 
 
 crashing, missing. 
 But whizzing right past my ear. 
 
 It shattered itself on the mantelpiece, whop ! 
 
 Cox. What was it ? 
 
 Box. Ah ! tremble ! the basin called Slop I 
 
 It fell at my feet ; 
 It would have put the back of a man who was 
 
 ever so meek up. 
 So being thus.baited, I retaliated. 
 And hurled at my widow a crockery tea-cup. 
 
 Cox (recil.). 
 
 Between you, then, there was a fraction. 
 
 Box. And I was threatened with an action. 
 
 Cox. ciel 1 proceed. 
 
 Box. One morn when I had finished my ablution, 
 I took— 
 
 Cox. A walk ? 
 
 Box. No, sir, a resolution. 
 
 Friends or foes, 
 None suppose. 
 Nobody knows 
 What I does. 
 I tie up my clothes, 
 My shirt and my hose. 
 My socks for my toes. 
 My linen for nose, 
 I think of my woes, 
 And under the rose 
 I pack up my bundle, and off I goes. 
 
 Cox (spoken). Ha ! I see, you left in a tiff ! 
 
 Box. Listen : I solemnly walked to the cliff. 
 And singing a sort of a dulcet dirge, 
 Put down my bundle upon the verge. 
 Heard the wild sea-gull's mournful cry, 
 Looked all around — there was nobody nigh ; 
 None but I on the cliff so high, 
 And all save the sea was bare and dry. 
 And I took one look on the wave below. 
 And I raised my hands in an agony throe. 
 And I stood on the edge of the rock so steep. 
 And I gazed like a maniac on the deep ; 
 I cried, " Farewell, farewell to earth. 
 Farewell, farewell to the land of my birth ; 
 Farewell, farewell to my only love, 
 To the sea below and the sky above ; 
 With a glance at the sea of wild despair, 
 I cried, "I come" ; my bundle lay theie 
 At the edge, where the coastguard's way was 
 
 chalked. 
 Then away— in the opposite way T walked. 
 
 Cox. What a clever man ! What a capital plan I 
 I've listened with attention, 
 I think that I should like to try 
 Your wonderful invention. 
 
 Both. What a clever man, etc. 
 
 Cox. Ingenious creature I you disappeared— the suit 
 of clothes was found — 
 
 Box. Exactly — and in one of the pockets of the coa t 
 there was also found a piece of paper, with these affecting 
 farewell words :— " This is thy work, oh, Penelope Ami ! " 
 
 Cox. Penelope Ann I Penelope Ann ? 
 
 Box. Penelope Ann ! 
 
 Cox. Originally widow of William Wiggins ? 
 
 Box. Widow of William Wiggins I 
 
 Cox. Proprietor of bathing machines ? 
 
 Box. Proprietor of bathing machines I 
 
 Cox. At Margate? 
 
 Box. And Ramsgate ! 
 
 Cox. It must be she ! And you, sir — you are Box — 
 the lamented, long-lost Box ? 
 
 Box. I am ! 
 
 Cox. And I was about, to marry the interesting 
 creature you so cruelly deceived. 
 
 Box. Ah ! then you are Cox ! 
 
 Cox. I am I ^ 
 
 Box. I congratulate you — I give you joy ! — and now 
 I think I'll go and take a stroll. [Going.) 
 
 Cox. No, you don't I (Stopping him.) I'll not lose 
 sight of you till I've restored you to the arms of your 
 intended. 
 
 Box. My intended ? You mean your intended. 
 
 Cox. No, sir — yours I 
 
 Box. How can she be my intended, now that I am 
 drowned ? 
 
 Cox. You're no such thing, sir ! and I prefer 
 presenting you to Penelope Ann. Permit me, then, to 
 follow the generous impulse of my nature — I give her 
 up to you. 
 
 Box. Benevolent being ! I wouldn't rob you for 
 the world. (Going.) Good morning, sir I 
 
 Cox (seizing him). Stop ! 
 
 Box. Unhand me, hatter 1 or I shall cast off the 
 lamb and assume the lion ! 
 
 Cox. Pooh I (Snapping his fingers in Box's face.) 
 
 Box. An insult ! You know the consequences, sir — 
 instant satisfaction, sir 1 
 
 Cox. With all my heart, sir ! (They begin ringing bells 
 violently.) 
 
 Both. Bouncer ! Bouncer ! 
 
 Bouncer runs in. 
 BouN. What is it, gentlemen I 
 Box. Pistols for two ! 
 BouN. Yes, sir. (Going.) 
 
 Cox. Stop ! You don't mean to say that you keep 
 loaded firearms in the house. 
 
 BoUN. Oh, no — they're not loaded. 
 
 Cox. Then produce the murderous weapons instantly. 
 
 [Exit Bouncer. 
 
— vlil - 
 
 Box. Hark ye I ^^^ly do you object to marry 
 Penelope Ann ? 
 
 Cox. Because I can't abide her. You'll be happy 
 with her. 
 
 Box. Happy ? Don't be absurd, sir. 
 
 Cox. Then don't you be ridiculous, sir. 
 
 Enter Bouncer. 
 
 BouN. I can't find the pistols, but I have brought 
 you a letter — it came by the General Post yesterday. 
 I am sure I don't know how I came to forget it, for I 
 put it carefully in my pocket. 
 
 Cox. And you've kept it carefully in your pocket. 
 
 [Exit Bouncer. 
 
 Cox {looking at letter). "Margate." Penelope Ann I 
 
 Box. [reading). " Dear Mr. Cox — Pardon my 
 candour" — 
 
 Cox (looking over, and reading). "But being 
 convinced that our feelings, like our ages, do not 
 reciprocate " — 
 
 Box. "I hasten to apprise you of my immediate 
 union " — 
 
 Cox. "With Mr. Knox." 
 
 Box. Hurrah I 
 
 Cox. Three cheers for Knox I 
 
 BouN. {putting his head in at door). The little 
 second floor back room is quite ready I 
 
 Cox. I don't want it. 
 
 Box. No more do 1 1 
 
 Cox. What shall part us ? 
 
 Box. What shall tear us asunder ? 
 
 Cox. Box 1 
 
 Box. Cox I {About to embrace — Box stops.) You'll 
 excuse the apparent insanity of the remauk, but the 
 more I gaze on your features, the more I'm convinced 
 that you're my long lost brother. 
 
 Cox. The very observation I was going to make to 
 you ! 
 
 Box. Ah — ^tell me — ^in mercy tell me — have you such 
 a thing as a strawberry mark on your left arm ? 
 
 Cox. No I 
 
 Box. Then it is he I [They rush into each other's arms.) 
 Enter Bouncer. 
 
 No. 9.— FINALE. 
 
 "My hand upon it." 
 
 Box. My hand upon it, join but yours ; agree the 
 house will hold us. 
 
 Cox. And two good lodgers Bouncer gets, he'll in 
 his arms enfold us. 
 
 All Three {together). 
 
 Rataplan, Rataplan, plan, plan, plan, plan, 
 Yes — Rataplan — Penelope Ann 
 Has married another respectable man. 
 Three cheers for Knox, who lives at the docks, 
 And may he live happily if he can, 
 Rataplan, Rataplan, Rataplan, Rataplan. 
 
H.M.S. PINAFORE 
 
 OR THE LASS THAT LOVED A SAILOR 
 
 Written by W. S. Gilbert. Composed by Arthur S. Sullivan. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 The story surrounds the love of an able seaman, 
 Ralph Rackstraw for his captain's daughter, Josephine, 
 whose hand is sought by the Rt. Hon. Sir Joseph Porter, 
 K. C. B., First Lord of the Admiralty. Amid scenes of 
 activity, Sir Joseph, attended by his female relatives, visits 
 the ship to discuss his proposed marriage. Meanwhile, 
 Ralph, who has hitherto refrained from declaring his pas' 
 sion, now tells Josephine of his love for her. Although 
 inwardly reciprocating his aflfection, she haughtily rejects 
 his advances, and reminds him of their disparity in rank. 
 Ralph, in despair, calls his mess'mates, and decides to 
 end his life. He is about to shoot himself, when Josephine, 
 staying his hand, confesses that she loves him. A plan 
 is made by the crew to steal ashore that night for a 
 hasty marriage, but, being overheard by Dick Deadeye, 
 a deformed and unpopular member of the crew, he ac 
 quaints the Captain of their intentions. Captain Corcoran 
 is so enraged that he cannot repress a swear word, and 
 
 Sir Joseph, a disciplinarian, hearing this, with pain and 
 distress, sends him in disgrace to his cabin. Pressed as 
 to the reason of the Captain's outburst, Ralph relates 
 the story of his love for Josephine; and Sir Joseph is so 
 astounded at this presumption that he orders Ralph's 
 detention in a dungeon cell. Buttercup now appears, and 
 explains how many years previously, she was guilty of 
 exchanging the identification of the Captain and Ralph, 
 whom she "nussed" as infants, Ralph being the boy who 
 was nobly bom. 
 
 This situation is straightened out in truly Gilbertian 
 style by the Captain and Ralph exchanging ranks. Suty 
 sequently, Sir Joseph relinquishes his claim to Josephine, 
 and hands her over to Ralph, with the strict injunction 
 to take care of her. He (Sir Joseph) decides to marry 
 cousin Hebe; and the deposed Captain Corcoran finds 
 consolation in Little Buttercup. 
 
 ACT I. 
 Scene. — Siuarter'dec\ of H.M.S. Pinafore. 
 Sailors, led by Boatswain, discovered 
 cleaning hr.asswor\, splicing rope, tfc. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 We sail the Ocean blue, 
 And our saucy ship's a beauty; 
 We're sober men and true. 
 And attentive to our duty. 
 When the balls whistle free 
 O'er the bright blue sea. 
 We stand to our guns all day; 
 When at anchor we ride 
 On the Portsmouth tide. 
 We've plenty of time for play. 
 Ahoy! Ahoy! Ahoy! 
 
 {Enter Little Buttercup, with large bas' 
 \et on her arm.) 
 
 REax. 
 
 Hail, men-o'-wars' men — safeguards of 
 your nation. 
 
 Here is an end, at last, of all privation; 
 
 You've got your pay— spare all you can 
 afford 
 
 To welcome Little Buttercup on board. 
 
 Aria. 
 I'm called Little Buttercup — dear Little 
 Buttercup, 
 Though I could never tell why, 
 But still I'm called Buttercup— poor Little 
 
 Buttercup, 
 Sweet Little Buttercup I! 
 
 Dramatis Personae 
 
 The Rt. Hon. Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B. 
 (First Lord of the Admiraltji) 
 
 Captain Corcoran (Comtnanding H.M.S. 
 Pinafore) 
 
 Ralph Rackstraw (Able Seaman) 
 
 Dick Deadeye (Able Seaman) 
 
 Bill Bobstay (Boatswain's Mate) 
 
 Bob Becket (Carpenter's Mate) 
 
 Tom Tucker (Midshipmite) 
 
 Sergeant of Marines 
 
 Josephine (the Captain's Daughter) 
 
 Hebe (Sir Joseph's First Cousin) 
 
 Mrs. Cripps (Little Buttercup) 
 (a Portsmouth Bumboat Woman) 
 
 First Lord's Sisters, his Cousins, bis Aunts, 
 Sailors, Marines, etc. 
 
 SCENE — Quarter-deck of H.M.S. Pina- 
 fore. OFF Portsmouth 
 
 ACT L — Noon. 
 
 ACT II. — Night. 
 
 I've snuff and tobaccy, and excellent 
 jacky, 
 I've scissors, and watches, and knives; 
 I've ribbons and laces to set off the faces 
 Of pretty young sweethearts and 
 wives. 
 I've treacle and toffee, I've tea and I've 
 coffee, 
 
 Soft tommy and succulent chops; 
 I've chickens and conies, and pretty 
 polonies. 
 And excellent peppermint drops. 
 
 Then buy of your Buttercup — dear Little 
 
 Buttercup, 
 Sailors should never be shy; 
 So buy of your Buttercup — ^poor Little 
 
 Buttercup, 
 
 Come, of your Buttercup buy! 
 
 Boat. Aye, Little Buttercup — and well 
 called — for you're the rosiest, the roimdest, 
 and the reddest beauty in all Spithead. 
 
 All. Aye! Aye! 
 
 But. Red, am I? and round — and rosy! 
 May be, for I have dissembled well! But 
 hark ye, my merry friend — hast ever 
 thought that beneath a gay and frivolous 
 exterior there may lurk a canker-worm 
 which is slowly but surely eating its way 
 into one's very heart? 
 
 Boat. No, my lass, I can't say I've ever 
 thought that. 
 
 (Enter Dic\ Deadeye. He pushes through 
 sailors, and comes doum.) 
 
 Dic\. I've thought it often. (All recoil 
 frotn him.) 
 
 But. Yes, you look like it! What's the 
 matter with Uie man? Isn't he well? 
 
Boat. Don't take no heed of him, that's 
 only poor Dick Deadeye. 
 
 Dic\. I say — it's a beast of a name, ain't 
 it. Dick Deadeye. 
 
 But. It's not a nice name. 
 
 Dic\. I'm ugly too, ain't I? 
 
 But. You are certainly plain. 
 
 Dic}{. And I'm three-cornered too, ain't 
 I? 
 
 But. You are rather triangular. 
 
 Dic\. Ha! Ha! That's it. I'm ugly, and 
 they hate me for it; for you all hate me, 
 don't you? 
 
 All. We do! 
 
 Dic\. There! 
 
 Boat. Well, Dick, we wouldn't go for to 
 hurt any fellow creature's feelings, but you 
 can't expect a chap with such a name as 
 Dick Deadeye to be a popular character — 
 now can you? 
 
 DicJ^, No. 
 
 Boat. It's asking too much, ain t it? 
 
 Dick- It is. From such a face and form 
 as mine the noblest sentiments sound like 
 the black utterances of a depraved imagin- 
 ation. It is human nature, I'm resigned; 
 
 Regit. 
 
 But. (Looi^ing down hatchway from R.) 
 But, tell me — who's the, youth whose 
 faltering feet 
 
 With difficuty bear him on his course? 
 
 Boat. That is the smartest lad in all the 
 fleet- 
 Ralph Rackstraw! 
 
 But. Ralph! That name! Remorse! re- 
 morse! 
 
 (Enter Ralph from hatchway.) 
 Madrigal. — ^Ralph. 
 The Nightingale 
 Sighed for the moon's bright ray. 
 
 And told his tale 
 In his own melodious way! 
 He sang "Ah, well-a-day!" 
 
 All. He sang "Ah, well-a-day!" 
 
 The lowly vale 
 For the mountain vainly sighed, 
 
 To his humble wail 
 The echoing hills replied. 
 
 They sang "Ah, well-a-day!" 
 
 All. They sang "Ah, well-a-day!" 
 
 Regit. 
 
 I know the value of a kindly chorus. 
 But choruses yield little consolation. 
 When we have pain and sorrow too be- 
 fore us! 
 
 I love — and love, alas, above my sta- 
 tion! 
 
 But. (Aside.) He loves — and loves a lass 
 above his station. 
 
 All. (Aside.) Yes, yes, the lass is much 
 above his station. 
 
 Ballad. — ^RaJph. 
 
 A maiden fair to see, 
 The pearl of minstrelsy, 
 
 A bud of blushing beauty; 
 For whom proud nobles sigh, 
 And with each other vie 
 
 To do her menial's duty. 
 
 All. To do her menial's duty. 
 
 A suitor, lowly born. 
 With hopeles passion torn. 
 
 And poor beyond denying, 
 Has dared for her to pine. 
 At whose exalted shrine 
 
 A world of wealth is sighing. 
 
 All. A world of wealth is sighing! 
 
 Unlearned he in aught 
 
 Save that which love has taught, 
 
 (For love had been his tutor) ; 
 Oh, pity, pity me — 
 Our captain's daughter, she. 
 
 And I that lowly suitor! 
 
 All And, he that lowly suitor! 
 
 Boat. Ah, my poor lad, you've climbed 
 too high; our worthy captain's child won't 
 have nothin' to say to a poor chap like you. 
 Will she, lads? 
 
 All. No, no! 
 
 Dic\. No, no, captain's daughters don't 
 
 marry foremost hands. 
 
 All. (Recoiling from him.) Shame! 
 shame! 
 
 Boat. Dick Deadeye, them sentiments o' 
 yourn are a disgrace to our common natur. 
 
 Ralph. But it's a strange anomaly, that 
 the daughter of a man who hails from the 
 quarterdeck may not love another who lays 
 out on the fore-yard arm. For a man is 
 but a man, whether he hoists his flag at the 
 main truck or his slacks on the main-deck. 
 
 All. Aye! aye! 
 
 Dtc^. Ah, it's a queer world! 
 
 Ralph. Dick Deadeye, I have no desire 
 to press hardly on you, but such a revolu- 
 tionary sentiment is enough to make an 
 honest sailor shudder (All shudder.) 
 
 Boat. My lads, our gallant captain has 
 come on deck, let us greet him as so brave 
 an officer and so gallant a seaman deserves. 
 
 (Enter Captain Corcoran.) 
 
 Regit. 
 
 Capt. My gallant crew, good morning. 
 
 All. (Saluting.) Sir, good morning! 
 
 Capt. I hope you're all quite well. 
 
 All. (As before.) Quite well; and you, 
 sir? 
 
 Capt. I am in reasonable health, and 
 happy 
 To meet you all once more. 
 
 All. (As before.) You do us proud, 
 sir! 
 
 Song. — Capt. 
 
 Capt. I am the Captain of the Pinafore! 
 
 All. And a right good captain, too! 
 
 Capt. You're very, very good. 
 And be it understood, 
 I command a right good crew. 
 
 All. We're very, very good. 
 
 And be it understood. 
 He commands a right good crew. 
 
 Capt. Though related to a peer, 
 I can hand, reef, and steer. 
 
 Or ship a selvagee; 
 I am never known to quail 
 At the fury of a gale. 
 
 And I'm never, never sick at 
 sea! 
 
 All. What, never? 
 Capt. No, never! 
 
 All. What, never? 
 Capt. Hardly ever! 
 
 All. He's hardly ever sick at sea! 
 
 Then give three cheers, and one 
 
 cheer more. 
 For the hardy Captain of the 
 Pinafore! 
 
 Capt. I do my best to satisfy you all — 
 
 All. And with you we're quite con- 
 tent. 
 
 Capt. You're exceedingly polite. 
 And I think it only right 
 To return the compliment. 
 
 All. We're exceedingly polite, 
 
 And he thinks it only right 
 To return the compliment. 
 
 Capt. Bad language or abuse, 
 I never, never use. 
 Whatever the emergency; 
 Though, "bother it," I may 
 Occasionally say, 
 I never use a big, big D — 
 
 All. What, never? 
 
 Capt. No, never! 
 
 All. What, never? 
 
 Capt: Hardly ever! 
 
 All. Hardly ever swears a big, big D — 
 Then give three cheers, and one 
 
 cheer more, 
 For the well-bred Captain of the 
 
 Pinafore! 
 
(After song exeunt all but Captain. En' 
 ter Ltttle Buttercup.) 
 
 fiut. 
 
 Sir, you are sad! The silent eloquence 
 Of yonder tear, that trembles on your 
 
 eyelash. 
 Proclaims a sorrow far more deep than 
 
 common; 
 Confide in me — fear not — I am a mother! 
 
 Capt. 
 
 Yes, Little Buttercup, Fm sad and sor' 
 
 ry— 
 My daughter, Josephine, the fairest flow 
 
 er 
 That ever blossomed on ancestral timber, 
 Is sought in marriage by Sir Joseph 
 
 Porter, 
 Our Admiralty's First Lord, but for some 
 
 reason 
 She does not seem to tackle kindly to it. 
 
 But. (with emotion.) 
 
 Ah, poor Sir Joseph. Ah, I know too 
 
 well 
 The anguish of a heart that loves but 
 
 vainly! 
 
 But see, here comes your most attractive 
 daughter. 
 
 I go— Farewell; (Exit.) 
 
 Capt. (looJ^ing after her.) A plump and 
 pleasing person! (Exit.) 
 
 (Enter Josephine, ttointng some flowers 
 which she carries in a smal bosket.) 
 
 Ballad. — ^Josephine. 
 
 Sorry her lot who loves too well. 
 
 Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly, 
 Sad are the sighs that own the spell. 
 Uttered by eyes that speak too plainly; 
 Heavy the sorrow that bows the 
 
 head 
 When love is alive and hope is dead! 
 Sad is the hour when sets the sun — 
 Dark is the night to earth's poor 
 daughters. 
 When to the ark the wearied one 
 Flies from the empty waste of waters! 
 Heavy the sorrow that bows the 
 
 head 
 When love is alive and hope is 
 dead! ! 
 
 (Enter Captain.) 
 
 Capt. My child, I grieve to see that you 
 are a prey to melancholy. You should look 
 your best to-day, for Sir Joseph Porter, 
 K.C.B., will be here this afternoon to claim 
 your promised hand. 
 
 Jos. Ah, father, your words cut me to 
 the quick. I can esteem— reverence — ven- 
 erate Sir Joseph, for he is a great and good 
 man; but oh, I cannot love him! My heart 
 is already given. 
 
 Capt. (Aside.) It is then as I feared. 
 (Aloud.) Given? And to whom? Not to 
 some gilded lordling? 
 
 Jos. No father — the object of my love is 
 no lordling. Oh, pity me, for he is but a 
 humble sailor on board your own ship! 
 
 Capt. Impossible! 
 
 Jos. Yes, it is true — too true; 
 
 Capt. A common sailor? Oh fie! 
 
 Jos. I blush for the weakness that allows 
 me to cherish such a passion. I hate myself 
 when I think of the depth to which I have 
 stooped in permitting myself to think ten- 
 derly of one so ignobly born, but I love 
 him! I love him! I love him! (Weeps.) 
 
 Capt. Come, my child, let us talk this 
 over. In a matter of the heart I would not 
 coerce my daughter — I attach but little 
 value to rank or wealth, but the line must 
 be drawn somewhere. A man in that station 
 may be brave and worthy, but at every step 
 he would commit solecisms that society 
 would never pardon. 
 
 Jos. Oh, I have thought of this night and 
 day. But fear not, father, I have a heart, 
 and therefore I love; but I am your daugh- 
 ter, and therefore I am proud. Though I 
 carry my love with me to the tomb, he shall 
 never, never know it. 
 
 Capt. You are my daughter after all. 
 But see. Sir Joseph's barge approaches, 
 manned by twelve trusty oarsmen and ac- 
 companied by the admiring crowd of sisters, 
 cousins and aunts that attend him where- 
 ever he goes. Retire, my daughter, to your 
 cabin — take this, his photograph, with you 
 — ^it may help to bring you to a more reas- 
 onable frame of mind. 
 
 Jos. My own thoughtful father! 
 (Exit Josephine. Captain remains and as- 
 cends the poop-dec^.) 
 
 Barcarolle (invisible). 
 
 Over the bright blue sea 
 Comes Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B., 
 
 Wherever he may go 
 Bang-bang the loud nine pounders go! 
 
 Shout o'er the bright blue sea 
 For Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B. 
 
 {During this the crew have entered on 
 tip'toe, listening attentively to the song.) 
 
 Chorus of Sailors. 
 
 Sir Joseph's barge is seen. 
 
 And its crowd of blushing beauty. 
 We hope he'll find us dean. 
 
 And attentive to our duty. 
 
 We sail, we sail the ocean blue, 
 And our saucy ship's a beauty. 
 
 We're sober, sober men and true. 
 And attentive to our duty. 
 
 We're smart and sober men, 
 
 And qmte devoid of fe-ar. 
 In all the Royal N. 
 
 None are so smart as we are. 
 
 (Enter Sir Joseph's Female Relatives. 
 They dance round stage.) 
 
 Rel. Gaily tripping. 
 Lightly skipping. 
 Flock the maidens to the shipping. 
 
 Sailors. 
 
 Flags and guns and pennants dipping! 
 
 All the ladies love the shipping. 
 
 Rel. Sailors sprightly. 
 Always rightly 
 Welcome ladies so politely. 
 
 Sailors. 
 
 Ladies who can smile so brightly. 
 Sailors welcome most politely. 
 
 Capt. (from poop). 
 
 Now give three cheers, I'll lead the way. 
 
 Hurrah! hurrah! 
 AH. Hurray! hurray! hurray! 
 
 (Enter Sir Joseph with Cousin Hebe.) 
 
 Song.— Sir Joseph. 
 I am the monarch of the sea, 
 The ruler of the Queen's Navee. 
 
 Whose praise Great Britain loudly 
 chants. 
 
 Cousin Hebe. 
 
 And we are his sisters, and his cousin t 
 and his aunts! 
 
 Rel. 
 
 And we are his sisters, and his coiisint 
 and his aunts! 
 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 When at anchor here I ride. 
 My bosom swells with pride. 
 And I snap my fingers at a foeman 
 taunts; 
 
 Cousin Hebe. 
 
 And so do his sisters, and his cousins, 
 and his aunts! 
 
 All. 
 
 And so do his sisters, and his cousins, 
 and his aunts! 
 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 But when the breezes blow, 
 I generally go below. 
 And seek the seclusion that a cabin 
 grants! 
 
 Cousin Hebe. 
 
 And so do his sisters, and his cousins, 
 and his aunts! 
 
 AH. 
 
 And so do his sisters, and his cousins, 
 and his aunts! 
 
 His sisters and his cousins. 
 Whom he reckons up by dozens. 
 And his aunts! 
 
Solo. 
 
 Song. — Sir Joseph. 
 
 When I was a lad I served a term 
 As office boy to an Attorney's firm, 
 I cleaned the windows and I swept the 
 
 floor, 
 And I polished up the handle of the big 
 
 front door. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Chorus.— He polished, etc. 
 
 I polished up that handle so carefullee 
 That now I am the ruler of the 
 Queen's Navee! 
 
 Chorus. — He polished, etc. 
 Solo. 
 
 As office boy I made such amark 
 
 That they gave me the post of a junior 
 
 clerk. 
 
 I served the writs with a smile so bland, 
 And copied all the letters in a big round 
 hand — 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Chorus. — He copied, etc. 
 
 I copied all the letters in a hand so 
 
 free. 
 That now I am the ruler of the 
 Queen's Navee! 
 
 Chorus. — ^He copied, etc. 
 Solo. 
 
 Ih serving writs I made such a name 
 That an articled clerk I soon became; 
 I wore clean collars and a bran new suit 
 For the pass examination at the Institute. 
 
 Chorus. — For the pass, etc. 
 Solo. 
 
 That pass examination did so well for 
 
 me. 
 That now I am the ruler of the Queen's 
 Navee! 
 Chorus. — That pass examination, etc. 
 Solo. 
 
 Of legal knowledge I acquired such a 
 
 grip 
 That they took me into the parnership 
 And that junior partnership I ween 
 Was the only ship that I ever had seen. 
 Chorus. — Was the only ship, etc. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 But that kind of ship so suited me, 
 That now I am the ruler of the 
 Queen's Navee! 
 
 Chorus.— But that kind, etc. 
 Solo. 
 
 I grew so rich that I was sent 
 
 By a pocket borough into Parliament. 
 
 I always voted at my party's call, 
 And I never thought of thinking for my 
 self at all. 
 
 Chorus. — ^He never thought, etc. 
 
 I thought so little, they rewarded me, 
 By making me the ruler of the 
 Queen' Navee! 
 
 Chorus. — He thought so little, etc. 
 Solo. 
 
 Now landsmen all, whoever you may be. 
 If you want to rise to the top of the tree. 
 If your soul isn't fettered to an office 
 
 stool. 
 Be careful to be guided by this golden 
 rule — 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Chorus. — Be careful, etc. 
 
 Stick close to your desks and never go 
 
 to sea. 
 And you all may be rulers of the 
 
 Queen's Navee! 
 
 Chorus. — Stick close, etc. 
 
 Sir Joseph. You've a remarkably fine 
 crew. Captain Corcoran. 
 
 Capt. It is a fine crew. Sir Joseph. 
 
 Sir Joseph. (Examining a very small 
 midshipman.) A British sailor is a splendid 
 fellow. Captain Corcoran 
 
 Capt. A splendid fellow indeed. Sir 
 Joseph. 
 
 Sir Joseph. I hope you treat your crew 
 kindly. Captain Corcoran. 
 
 Capt. Indeed I hope so. Sir Joseph. 
 
 Sir Joseph. Never forget that they are 
 the bulwarks of England's greatness. Cap- 
 tain Corcoran. 
 
 Capt. So I have always considered them. 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 Sir Joseph. No bullying, I trust — no strong 
 language of any kind, eh? 
 
 Capt. Oh, never. Sir Joseph. 
 
 Sir Joseph. What, never? 
 
 Capt. Well! hardly ever. Sir Joseph. 
 They are an excellent crew, and do their 
 work thoroughly without it. 
 
 Sir Joseph. Don't patronize them, sir — 
 pray don't patronize them. 
 
 Capt. Certainly not. Sir Joseph. 
 
 Sir Joseph. That you are their Captain 
 is an acident of birth. I cannot permit these 
 noble fellows to be patronized because an 
 accident of birth has placed you above them 
 and them below you. 
 
 Capt. I am the last person to insult a 
 British sailor. Sir Joseph. 
 
 Sir Joseph. You are the last person who 
 did. Captain Corcoran. Desire that splendid 
 seaman to step forward. 
 
 (Dic\ comes forward.) 
 
 Sir Joseph. No, no, the other splendid 
 seaman. 
 
 Capt. Ralph Rackstraw, three paces to 
 the front — march! 
 
 Sir Joseph. (Sternly.) If what? 
 
 Capt. I beg your pardon — I don't think 
 I understand you. 
 
 Sir Joseph. If you please. 
 
 Capt. Oh, yes, of course. If you please. 
 
 (Ralph steps forward.) 
 
 Sir Joseph. You're a remarkably fine fel- 
 low. 
 
 Ralph. Yes, your honour. 
 
 Sir Joseph. And a first-rate seaman, I'll 
 be bound. 
 
 Ralph. There's not a smarter topman in 
 the navy, your honour, though I say it who 
 shouldn't. 
 
 Sir Joseph. Not at all. Proper self-respect, 
 nothing more. Can you dance a hornpipe? 
 Ralph. No, your honour. 
 
 Sir Joseph. That's a pity; all sailors 
 shoul dance hornpipes. I will teach you one 
 this evening, after dinner. Now tell me — 
 don't be afraid — how does your Captain 
 treat you, eh? 
 
 Ralph. A better Captain don't walk the 
 deck, your honour. 
 
 All. Aye! Aye! 
 
 Sir Joseph. Good. I like to hear you speak 
 well of your commanding officer; I dare 
 say he don't deserve it, but still it does you 
 credit. Can you sing? 
 
 Ralph. I can hum a little, your honour. 
 Sir Joseph. Then hum this at your leisure. 
 
 (Giving him MS. music.) It is a song that 
 I have composed for the use of the Royal 
 Navy. It is designed to encourage indepen- 
 dence of thought and action in the lower 
 branches of the service, and to teach the 
 principle that a British sailor is any man's 
 equal, excepting mine. Now, Captain Cor- 
 coran, a word with you in your cabin on 
 a tender and sentimental subject. 
 
 Capt. Aye, aye. Sir Joseph. (Crossing.) 
 Boatswain, in commemoration of this joy- 
 ous occasion, see that extra grog is served 
 out to the ship's company at seven bells. 
 
 Boat. Beg pardon. If what, your honour? 
 
 Capt. If what? I don't think I under- 
 stand you. 
 
 Boat. If you please, your honour. 
 
 Capt. What! 
 
 Sir Joseph. The gentleman is quite right. 
 If you please. 
 
 Capt. (Stamping his foot impatiently) 
 If you please! [Exit. 
 
Sir Joseph. 
 For I hold that on the seas 
 The expression, "if you please," 
 A particularly gentlemanly tone im- 
 plants. 
 
 Cousin Hebe. 
 
 And so do his sisters, and his cousins, 
 and his aunts! 
 
 AH. 
 And so do his sisters, and his cousins, 
 and his aunts! 
 
 (Exeunt Sir Joseph and Relatives.) 
 
 Boat. Ah! Sir Joseph's a true gentleman; 
 courteous and considerate to the very hum- 
 blest. 
 
 Ralph. True, Boatswain, but we are not 
 the very humblest. Sir Joseph has explained 
 our true position to us. As he says, a Brit- 
 ish seaman is any man's equal excepting 
 his, and if Sir Joseph says that, is it not 
 our duty to believe him? 
 
 AH. Well spoke! well spoke! 
 
 Dic\. You're on a wrong tack, and so is 
 he. He means well, but he don't know. 
 When people have to obey other people's 
 orders, equality's out of the question. 
 
 All. (Recoiling.) Horrible! horrible! 
 
 Boat. Dick Deadeye, if you go for to in- 
 furiate this here ship's company too far, I 
 won't answer for being able to hold 'em in. 
 I'm shocked! that's what I am — shocked! 
 
 Ralph. Messmates, my mind's made ud. 
 I'll speak to the captain's daughter, and tell 
 her, like an honest man, of the honest love 
 I have for her. 
 
 All. Aye, aye! 
 
 Ralph. Is not my love as good as an- 
 other's? Is not my heart as true as an- 
 other's? Have I not hands and eyes and 
 ears and limbs like another? 
 
 All. Aye, aye! 
 
 Ralph. True, I lack birth- 
 Boat. You've a berth on board this very 
 ship. 
 
 Ralph. Well said — I had forgotten that. 
 Messinates — what do you say? do you ap- 
 prove my determination? 
 
 All. Wer do. 
 
 Dick. I don't. 
 
 Boat. What is to be done with this here 
 hopeless chap? Let us sing him the song 
 that Sir Joseph has kindly composed for us. 
 Perhaps it will bring this here miserable 
 creetur to a proper state of mind. 
 
 Glee. — Ralph, Boatswain, Carpenter's 
 Mate, and Chorus. 
 
 A British tar is a soaring soul. 
 As free as a mountain bird. 
 
 His energetic fist should be ready to resist 
 A dictatorial word. 
 
 His nose should pant and his lip should 
 curl. 
 
 His cheeks should flame and his brow 
 should furl. 
 
 His bosom should heave and his heart 
 should glow. 
 
 And his fist be ever ready for a knock- 
 down blow. 
 
 Chorus. — His nose should pant, etc. 
 
 His eyes should flash with an inborn fire, 
 His brow with scorn be rung; 
 
 He never should bow down to a domi- 
 neering frown, 
 Or the tang of a tyrant tongue. 
 
 His foot should stamp and his throat 
 should growl, 
 
 His hair should twirl and his face should 
 scowl; 
 
 His eyes should flash and his breast pro- 
 trude, 
 
 And this should be his customary atti- 
 tude! — 
 
 (Pose.) 
 
 Chorus. — His foot should stamp, etc. 
 
 (AH dance off excepting Ralph, who re- 
 mains leaning pensively against hulwar\.) 
 
 {Enter Josephine from Cabin.) 
 
 Jos. It is useless — Sir Joseph's attention - 
 nauseate me. I know that he is a truly great 
 and good man, for he told me so himself, 
 but to me he seems tedious, fretful and dic- 
 tatorial. Yet his must be a mind of no com- 
 mon order, or he would not dare to teach 
 my dear father to dance a hornpipe on the 
 cabin table. (Sees Ralph) Ralph Rack- 
 straw! (Overcome by emotion.) 
 
 Ralph. Aye, lady — no other than poor 
 Rackstraw! 
 
 Jos. (Aside.) How my heart beats! 
 (Aloud.) And why poor, Ralph? 
 
 Ralph. I am poor in the essence of hap- 
 piness, lady — rich only in never-ending un- 
 rest. In me there meet a combination of 
 antithetical elements which are at eternal 
 war with one another. Driven hither by ob- 
 jective influences — tither by subjective emo- 
 tions — ^wafted one moment into blazing day, 
 by mocking hope — plunged the next into 
 the Cimmerian darkness of tangible despair, 
 I am but a living ganglion of irreconcilable 
 antagonisms. I hope I make myself clear, 
 lady? 
 
 Jos. Perfectly. (Aside.) His simple elo- 
 quence goes to my heart. Oh, if I dared — 
 but no, the thought is madness! (Aloud.) 
 Dismiss these foolish fancies, they torture 
 you but needlessly. Come, make one effon. 
 
 Ralph. (Aside.) I will— one. (Aloud.) 
 Josephine! 
 
 Jos'. (Indignantly.) Sir! 
 
 Ralph. Aye, even though Jove's armoury 
 were launched at the head of the audacious 
 mortal whose lips, unhallowed by relation- 
 ship, dared to breathe that precious word, 
 yet would I breathe it once, and then per- 
 chance be silent evermore. Josephine, in one 
 brief breath I will concentrate the hopes, 
 the doubts, the anxious fears of six weary 
 months. Josephine, I am a British sailor, 
 and I love you! 
 
 Jos. Sir, this audacity! (Aside.) Oh, my 
 heart, my beating heart. (Aloud.) This un- 
 warrantable presumption on the part of a 
 common .sailor! (Aside.) Common! oh, the 
 irony of the word! (Crossing, aloud.) Oh, 
 sir, you forget the disparity in our ranks. 
 
 Ralph. I forget nothing, haughty lady. I 
 love you desperately, my life is in your 
 hand — I lay it at your feet! Give me hope, 
 and what I lack in education and polite ac- 
 complishments, that I will endeavour to 
 acquire. Drive me to despair, and in death 
 alone I shall look for consolation. I am 
 proud and cannot stoop to implore. I have 
 spoken and I wait your word. 
 
 Jos. You shall not wait long. Your prof- 
 fered love I haughtily reject. Go, sir, and 
 learn to cast your eyes on some village 
 maiden in your own poor rank — they 
 should be lowered before your captain's 
 daughter. 
 
 Duet. — Josephine and Ralph. 
 
 Jos. Refrain, audacious tar. 
 
 Your suit from pressing. 
 Remember what you are. 
 And whom addressing! 
 
 (Aside.) 
 
 I'd laugh my rank to scorn 
 
 In union holy. 
 Were he more highly born 
 
 Or I more lowly! 
 
 Ralph. Proud lady, have your way. 
 Unfeeling beauty! 
 You speak and I obey. 
 It is my duty! 
 
 I am the lowliest tar 
 
 That sails the water. 
 And you, proud maiden, are 
 
 My captain's daughter! 
 
(Aside.) 
 
 My heart with anguish torn 
 Bows down before her. 
 
 She laughs my love tb scorn, 
 Yet I adore her! 
 
 (Repeat Refrain, Ensemble, then Exit 
 Josephine into cabin.) 
 
 Ralph. (Recit.) 
 
 Can I survive this overbearing 
 Or live a life of mad despairing, 
 My proffered love despised, re- 
 jected? 
 
 No, no, it's not to be expected! 
 
 (Calling of.) 
 
 Messmates, ahoy! 
 
 Come here! Come here! 
 
 (Enter Sailors, Hebe, Relatives and But' 
 tercup.) 
 
 All. Aye, aye, my boy. 
 
 What cheer, what cheer? 
 Now tell us, pray. 
 Without delay 
 What does she say — 
 What cheer, what cheer? 
 
 Rjilph (to Cousin Hebe.) 
 
 The maiden treats my suit with scorn, 
 Rejects my humble gift, my lady; 
 
 She says I am ignobly bom, 
 
 And cuts my hopes adrift, my lady. 
 
 All. Oh, cruel one. 
 Dick 
 
 She spurns your suit? Oho! Oho! 
 
 I told you so, I told you so. 
 Sailors and Relatives. 
 
 we K,,Ur^;^7 a™ J we 
 
 Shalll r"" 'submit? Are' 7"^ ^ but slaves; 
 (they) (they) 
 
 Love comes alike to high and low — 
 
 Britannia's sailors rule the waves. 
 
 And shall they stoop to insult? No! 
 
 Dicl^. 
 
 You must submit, you are but slaves; 
 A lady she! Oho! Oho! 
 
 You lowly toilers of the waves. 
 She spurns you all — I told you so! 
 
 Ralph. 
 
 My friends, my leave of life I'm taking. 
 For oh, my heart, my heart is breaking. 
 
 When I am gone, oh, prithee tell 
 The maid that, as I died, I loved her 
 well! 
 
 All. (Turning away, weeping.) 
 
 Of life, alas! his leave he's taking, 
 For ah! his faithful heart is breaking. 
 When he is gone we'll surely tell 
 The maid that, as he died, he loved her 
 well! 
 
 (During Chorus Boatswain has loaded 
 pistol, which he hands to Ralph.) 
 
 Ralph. 
 
 Be warned, my messmates all 
 
 Who love in rank above you — 
 For Josephine I fall ! 
 
 (Puts pistol to his head. All the sailors 
 stop their ears.) 
 
 (Enter Josephine on dec\.) 
 
 Jos Ah! stay your hand! I love you! 
 
 All. Ah! stay your hand — she loves 
 you! 
 
 Ralph. (Incredulously.) Loves me? 
 Jos. Loves you! 
 
 All. Yes, yes — ah, yes — she loves you! 
 
 Josephine. Hebe and Ralph. 
 Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen. 
 For now the sky is all serene. 
 The god of day — the orb of love. 
 Has hung his ensign high above, 
 The sky is all a-blaze. 
 
 With wooing words and loving song, 
 We'll chase the lagging hours along, 
 
 And if 1 ^ ^^Vfthe maiden coy, 
 (we nnd) 
 
 |.-^ ,..j murmur forth decorous joy 
 
 In dreamy roundelays! 
 Dic\ Deadeye. 
 He thinks he's won his Josephine, 
 But though the sky is now serene, 
 A frowning thunderbolt above 
 
 Which now is all a-blaze. 
 May end their ill-assorted love 
 Our captain, ere the day is gone, 
 Will be extremely down upon 
 The wicked men who art employ 
 To make his Josephine less coy 
 
 In many various ways. (Exit Dicl^.) 
 
 Ensemble 
 
 Jos. This very night, 
 
 Hebe. With bated breath 
 
 Ralph. And muffled oar — 
 
 Jos. Without a light, 
 
 Hebe. As still as death, 
 
 Ralph. We'll steal ashore, 
 
 Jos. A clergyman 
 
 Ralph. Shall make us one 
 
 Boat. At half past ten. 
 
 Jos. And then we can 
 
 Ralph. Return, for none 
 Boat. Can part them then! 
 All. This very night, etc. 
 
 (Dic\ appears at Hatchway.) 
 Dic\. 
 
 Forbear, nor carry out the scheme you've 
 
 planned. 
 She is a lady — you a foremost hand! 
 Remember, she's your gallant captain's 
 
 daughter. 
 And you the meanest slave that crawls 
 
 the water! 
 
 All. Back, vermin, back. 
 Nor mock us! 
 
 Back, vermin, back, 
 You shock us! (Exit Dic\.) 
 
 Let's give three cheers for the sailor's 
 
 bride 
 Who casts all thought of rank aside — 
 And gives up home and fortune, too. 
 For the honest love of a sailor true! 
 
 Tra la la la la la la 
 
 Re I. For a British tar is a soaring soul 
 As free as a mountain bird! 
 
 His energetic fist should be ready to 
 resist 
 A dictatorial word! 
 
 His eyes should flash with an inborn fire, 
 His brow with scorn be wrung; 
 
 He never should bow down to a dom- 
 ineering frown. 
 Or the tang of a tyrant tongue. 
 
 Sails. 
 
 His nose should pant and his lip should 
 curl. 
 
 His cheeks should flame and his brow 
 should furl. 
 
 His bosom should heave and his heart 
 should glow. 
 
 And his fist be ever ready for a knock- 
 down blow. 
 
 Ensemble. 
 
 His foot should stamp and his throat 
 should growl. 
 
 His hair should twirl and his face should 
 scowl. 
 
 His eyes should flash and his breast pro- 
 trude. 
 
 And this should be his customary atti- 
 tude. (Pose.) 
 
 General Dance. 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
ACT II. 
 
 Same Scene. i?^tght. Moonlight. 
 
 Captain discovered stngtng. and accompany 
 ing himself on a Guitar. Little Buttercup), ■ 
 seated on quarter'dec\, gazing sentimen' 
 tally at him. 
 
 Song. — Captain. 
 
 Fair moon, to thee I sing, 
 
 Bright regent of the heavens. 
 Say, why is everything 
 Either at sixes or at sevens? 
 
 I have lived hitherto 
 
 Free from the breath of slander. 
 Beloved by all my crew — 
 
 A really popular commander. 
 
 But now my kindly crew rebel. 
 My daughter to a tar is partial, 
 
 Sir Joseph storms, and, sad to tell. 
 He threatens a court martial ! 
 
 Fair moon, to thee I sing. 
 Bright regent of the heavens. 
 
 Say, why is everything 
 
 Either at sixes or at sevens? 
 
 But. How sweetly he carols forth his mel' 
 ody to the unconscious moon! Of whom is 
 he thinking? Of some high bom beauty? It 
 may be! Who is poor Little Buttercup that 
 she should expect his glance to fall on one 
 so lowly! And yet if he kenw — if he only 
 knew! 
 
 Cdpt. {Coming down.) Ah! Little But' 
 tercup, still on board? That is not quite 
 right, little one. It would have been more 
 respectable to have gone on shore at dusk. 
 
 But. True, dear captain — but the recol' 
 lection of your sad pale face seemed to 
 chain me to the ship. I would fain see you 
 smile before I go. 
 
 Capt. Ah! Little Buttercup, I fear it will 
 be long before I recover my accustomed 
 cheerfulness, for misfortunes crowd upon 
 me, and all my old friends seem to have 
 turned against me! 
 
 But. Oh, no — do not say "all," dear Cap- 
 tain. That were unjust to one, at least. 
 
 Capt. True, for you are staunch to me. 
 (Aside.) If ever I gave my heart again, me- 
 thinks it would be to such a one as this! 
 (Aloud.) I am touched to the heart by 
 your innocent regard for me, and were we 
 differently situated, I think I could have 
 returned it. But, as it is, I fear I can never 
 be more to you than a friend. 
 
 But. I understand! You hold aloof from 
 me because you are rich and lofty — and I, 
 poor and lowly. But take care! The poor 
 bumboat woman has gipsy blood in her 
 veins, and she can read destinies. 
 
 Capt. Destinies! I 
 
 But. There is a change in store for you! 
 
 Capt. A change! 
 
 But. Aye — be prepared! 
 
 Duet. — Little Buttercup and Captain. 
 
 But. 
 
 Things are seldom what they seem. 
 Skim milk masquerades as cream; 
 Highlows pass as patent leathers; 
 Jackdaws strut in peacock's feathers. 
 
 Capt. (Puzzled.) Very true, 
 So they do. 
 
 But. 
 
 Black sheep dwell in every fold; 
 All that glitters is not gold; 
 Storks turn out to be but logs; 
 Bulls are but inflated frogs. 
 
 So they be, 
 Frequentlee. 
 
 Capt. (Puzzled.) 
 
 But. 
 
 Drops the wind and stops the mill; 
 Turbot is ambitious brill; 
 Gild the farthing if you will, 
 Yet it is a farthing still. 
 
 Capt. (Puzzled.) Yes, I know, 
 That is so. 
 Though to catch your drift I'm striving, 
 
 It is shady — it is shady; 
 I don't see at what you're driving. 
 Mystic lady — mystic lady, 
 
 (Aside.) 
 
 Stern convictions o'er me stealing. 
 That the mystic lady's deaUng 
 In oracular revealing. 
 
 But. (Aside.) 
 
 Stem convictions o'er him stealing 
 
 That the mystic lady's dealing 
 
 In oracular revealing. 
 Capt. Yes, I know — 
 But. That is so! 
 
 Capt. 
 
 Though I'm anything but clever, 
 I could talk like that for ever; 
 Once a cat was killed by care; 
 Only brave deserve the fair. 
 
 But. Very true. 
 So they do. 
 
 Capt. 
 
 Wink is often good as nod; 
 
 Spoils the child who spares the rod; 
 
 Thirsty lambs run foxy dangers; 
 
 Dogs are found in many mangers. 
 But. Frequentlee, 
 I agree. 
 
 Capt. 
 
 Paw of cat the chestnut snatches; 
 Worn out garments show new patches; 
 Only count the chick that hatches; 
 Men are grown up catchycatchies. 
 
 But. 
 
 Yes, I know, 
 That is so. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 
 Though to catch my dift he's striving, 
 I'll dissemble — I'll dissemble; 
 
 When he sees at what I'm driving. 
 Let him tremble — let him tremble! 
 
 Ensemble. 
 Though a mystic tone \ [ borrow, 
 
 t I shall / |g^j.j^ jj^g ^j^^jj ^j.jj gorrow, 
 (He will) 
 
 Here to-day and gone to-morrow; 
 
 Both. Yes, I know — 
 That is so! 
 
 (At the end, exit Little Buttercup, melo' 
 dramatically.) 
 
 Capt. Incomprehensible as her utterances 
 are, I nevertheless feel that they are dic- 
 tated by a sincere regard for me. But to 
 what new misery is she referring! Time 
 alone can tell ! 
 
 (Enter Sir Joseph) 
 
 Sir Joseph. Captain Corcoran, I am 
 much disappointed with your daughter. In 
 fact, I don't think she will do. 
 
 Capt. She won't do. Sir Joseph! 
 
 Sir Joseph. I'm afraid not. The fact is, that 
 although I have urged my suit with as 
 much eloquence as is consistent with an 
 official utterance, I have done so hitherto 
 without success. How do you account for 
 this! 
 
 Capt. Really, Sir Joseph, I hardly know. 
 Josephine is of course sensible of your con- 
 descension. 
 
 Sir Joseph. She naturally would be. 
 
 Capt. But perhaps your exalted rank 
 dazzles her. 
 
 Sir Joseph. You think it does? 
 
 Capt. I can hardly say; but she is a 
 modest girl, and her social position is far 
 below your own. It may be that she feels 
 she is not worthy of you. 
 
 Sir Joseph. That is really a very sensible 
 suggestion, and displays more knowledge 
 of human nature than I had given you 
 credit for. 
 
 Capt. See, she comes. If your lordship 
 would kindly reason with her and assure 
 her officially that it is a standing rule at 
 the Admiralty that love levels all ranks, 
 her respect for an official utterance might 
 induce her to look upon your offer in its 
 proper light. 
 
Sir Joseph. It is not unlikely. I will adopt 
 your suggestion. But soft, she is here. Let 
 us withdraw, and watch our opportunity. 
 
 (Enter Josephine from Cabin. Sir Joseph 
 and Captain retire.) 
 
 ScENA. — Josephine. 
 
 The hours creep on apace, 
 My guilty heart is quaking! 
 
 Oh, that I might retrace 
 The step that I am taking. 
 
 Its folly it were easy to be showing, 
 What I am giving up and whither 
 going. 
 
 On the one hand, papa's luxurious home. 
 Hung with ancestral armour and old 
 brasses, 
 
 Carved oak and tapestry from distant 
 Rome, 
 Rare "blue and white"', Venetian fin- 
 ger glasses, 
 
 Rich oriental rugs, luxurious sofa pillows, 
 
 And everything that isn't old, from 
 Gillow's. 
 
 And on the other, a dark and dingy 
 room. 
 In some back street with stuffy chil- 
 dren crying. 
 Where organs yell, and clacking house- 
 wives fume. 
 And clothes are hanging out all day 
 a-drying. 
 
 With one cracked looking-glass to see 
 
 your face in. 
 And dinner served up in a pudding 
 
 basin! 
 
 A simple sailor, lowly born. 
 
 Unlettered and unknown. 
 Who toils for bread from early morn 
 
 Till half the night has flown! 
 
 No golden rank can he impart — 
 No wealth of house or land — 
 
 No fortune save his trusty heart. 
 And honest brown right hand! 
 
 And yet he is so wondorous fair. 
 That love for one so passing rare. 
 So peerless in his manly beauty. 
 Were little else than solemn duty! 
 
 Oh, god of love, and god of reason, say, 
 Which of you twain shall my poor heart 
 obey! 
 
 (Sir Joseph and Captain enter.) 
 
 Sir Joseph. Madam, it has been represen- 
 ted to me that you are appalled by my ex- 
 alted rank. I desire to convey to you offi- 
 cially my assurance, that if your hesitation 
 is attributable to that circumstance, it is 
 uncalled for. 
 
 Jos. Oh, then your lordship is of the 
 opinion that married happiness is not in- 
 consistent with discrepancy in rank? 
 
 Sir Joseph. I am officially of that opinion. 
 
 Jos. That the high and the lowly may be 
 truly happy together, provided that they 
 truly love one another? 
 
 Sir Joseph. Madam, I desire to convey to 
 you officially my opinion that love is a plat- 
 form upon which all ranks meet. 
 
 Jos. I thank you. Sir Joseph. I did hesi- 
 tate, but I will hesitate no longer. (Aside.) 
 He little thinks how eloquently he has 
 pleaded his rival's cause! 
 
 Trio. — Sir Joseph, Captain, and Josephine. 
 Capt. 
 
 Never mind the why and wherefore. 
 Love can level ranks, and therefore. 
 Though his lordship's station's mighty, 
 
 Thovigh stupendous be his brain, 
 ThoHgh her tastes are mean and flighty 
 
 And her fortune poor and plain, 
 
 Capt. and Sir Joseph. 
 
 Ring the merry bells on board-ship. 
 Rend the air with warbling wild. 
 
 For the union of ) C lordship 
 
 With a humble captain's child! 
 
 Capt. For a humble captain's daughter — 
 
 Jos. For a gallant captain's daughter — 
 
 Sir Joseph. And a lord who rules the 
 water — 
 
 Jos. (Aside.) 
 
 And a tar who ploughs the water! 
 
 All. 
 
 Let the air with joy be laden. 
 Rend with songs the air above, 
 
 For the union of a maiden 
 With the man who owns her love! 
 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 Never mind the why and wherefore. 
 Love can level ranks, and therefore. 
 Though your nautical relation (alluding 
 to Capt.) 
 
 In my set could scarcely pass — 
 Though you occupy a station 
 In the lower middle class — 
 
 Capt. and Sir Joseph. 
 
 Ring the merry bells on board-ship. 
 Rend the air with warbling wild. 
 
 For the union of \^.^| lordship 
 
 With a humble captain's child! 
 Capt. For a humble captain's daughter — 
 
 Jos. For a gallant captain's daughter — 
 
 Sir Joseph. And a lord who rules the 
 water — 
 
 Jos. (Aside.) And a tar who ploughs the 
 water! 
 
 AH. 
 Let the air with joy be laden, 
 
 Rend with songs the air above, 
 For the union of a maiden 
 With the man who owns her love! 
 
 Jos. 
 
 Never mind the why and wherefore. 
 Love can level ranks, and therefore 
 I admit the jurisdiction: 
 
 Ably have you played your part. 
 You have carried firm conviction 
 To my hesitating heart. 
 
 Capt. and Sir Joseph. 
 
 Ring the merry bells on board-ship, 
 Rend the air with warbling wild. 
 
 For the union of \ ^^ | lordship 
 With a humble captain's child! 
 Capt. For a humble captain's daughter- 
 Jos. For a gallant captain's daughter — 
 
 Sir Joseph. And a lord who rules the 
 water — 
 
 Jos. (Aside.) And a tar who ploughs the 
 water! (Aloud.) Let the air with joy be 
 laden. 
 
 Capt. and Sir Joseph. Ring the merry bells 
 on board-ship — 
 
 Jos. For the union of a maiden — 
 
 Capt. and Sir Joseph. For her union with 
 his lordship. 
 
 AH. 
 
 Rend with songs the air above 
 For the man who owns her love! 
 
 (Exit Jos.) 
 
 Capt. Sir Joseph, I cannot express to you 
 my delight at the happy result of your elo- 
 quence. Your argument was unanswerable. 
 
 Sir Joseph. Captain Corcoran, it is one 
 of the happiest characteristics of this glori- 
 ous country that official utterancfes are in- 
 variably regarded as unanswerable. (Exit 
 
 Sir Joseph.) 
 
 Capt. At last my fond hopes are to be 
 crowned. My only daughter is to be the 
 bride of a Cabinet Minister. The prospect 
 is Elysian. (During this speech Dic\ Dead' 
 eye has entered.) 
 
 Dic\. Captain. 
 
 Capt. Deadeye! You here? Dont! (Re- 
 coiling from him.) 
 
 Dicl{. Ah, don't shrink from me. Cap- 
 tain. I'm unpleasant to look at, and my 
 name's agin me, but I ain't as bad as I 
 seem. 
 
Capt. What would you with me? 
 
 Dic\. (Mysteriously.) I'm come to give 
 you warning. 
 
 Capt. Indeed! do you propose to leave 
 the Navy then? 
 
 Dic\. No, no, you misunderstand me; 
 listen! 
 
 Duet. — Captain and Dic\ Deadeye. 
 
 Dick. 
 
 Kind Captain, I've important informa- 
 tion, 
 
 Sing hey, the kind commander that 
 you are. 
 
 About a certain intimate relation. 
 
 Sing hey, the merry maiden and the 
 tar. 
 
 Both. The merry maiden and the tar. 
 
 Capt. 
 
 Good fellow, in conundrums you are 
 speaking. 
 
 Sing hey the mystic sailor that you are, 
 
 The answer to them vainly I am seeking; 
 
 Sing hey, the merry maiden and the 
 tar. 
 
 Both. The merry maiden and the tar. 
 
 Dick. 
 
 Kind Captain, your young lady is a 
 sighing, 
 
 Sing hey, the simple captain that you 
 are. 
 This very night with Rackstraw to be 
 flying; 
 
 Sing hey, the merry maiden and the 
 tar. 
 
 Both. The merry maiden and the tar. 
 
 Capt. 
 
 Good fellow, you have given timely 
 warning, 
 Sing hey, the thoughtful sailor that 
 you are, 
 
 I'll talk to Master Rackstraw in the mor- 
 ning: 
 
 Sing hey, the cat-o-nine-tails and the 
 tar! (Producing a "cat.") 
 
 Both. The merry cat-o-nine tails and the 
 tar! 
 
 Capt. Dick Deadeye — I thank you for 
 your warning — I will at once take means 
 to arrest their flight. This boat cloak will 
 afford me ample disguise — So! (Envelopes 
 himself in a mysterious cloak, holding it 
 before his face.) 
 
 Dick- Ha, ha! They are foiled — foiled — 
 foiled! 
 
 (Enter Creu; on tiptoe, with Ralph and 
 Boatswain meeting Josephine, who enters 
 from Cabinet on tiptoe, with bundle of 
 necessaries, and accompanied by Little But' 
 tercup.) 
 
 Ensemble. 
 
 Carefully on tiptoe steaHng, 
 Breathing gently as we may. 
 
 Every step with caution feeling. 
 We will softly steal away. 
 
 (Captains stamps.) — Chord. 
 All. (Much alarmed.) 
 
 Goodness me — 
 Why, what was that? 
 
 Dick- 
 
 Silent be. 
 
 It was the cat! 
 
 All. (Reassured.) 
 
 It was — it was the cat! 
 
 Capt. (Producing cat'O'nine tails.) They're 
 right, it was the cat! 
 
 Pull ashore in fashion steady. 
 Hymen will defray the fare, 
 
 For a clergyman is ready 
 To unite the happy pair! 
 
 (Stamps as before, and Chord.) 
 
 AH. Goodness me, 
 
 Why, what was that? 
 
 Dick- 
 
 Silent be. 
 Again the cat! 
 
 All. It was again the cat! 
 Capt. (Aside.) 
 They're right, it was the cat! 
 
 Capt. (Throwing off cloak-) Hold! (All 
 start.) 
 
 Pretty daughter of mine, 
 
 I insist upon knowing 
 
 Where you may be going 
 With these sons of the brine. 
 
 For my excellent crew, 
 Though foes they could thump any. 
 Are scarcely fit company, 
 
 My daughter, for you. 
 
 Creoi. Now, hark at that, do! 
 
 Though foes we could thump any. 
 We're scarcely fit company 
 For a lady like you! 
 
 Ralph. 
 
 Proud officer, that haughty lip uncurl ! 
 Vain man, suppress that supercilious 
 sneer, 
 For I have dared to love your matchless 
 girl, 
 A fact well known to all my mess- 
 mates here! 
 
 Capt. Oh, horror! 
 
 Ralph and Jos. 
 
 \ ^' Chumble, poor, and lowly bom, 
 
 The meanest in the port division — 
 The butt of epauletted scorn — 
 
 The mark of quarter-deck derision — 
 f;^^^ {dared to raise] fl^y (wormy eyes, 
 Above the dust to which you'd 
 
 mould jjl^ 
 In manhood's glorious pride to rise. 
 
 lam 
 He is 
 
 I an Englishman — behold iF^' 
 
 All. He is an Englishman! 
 
 Boat. He is an Englishman! 
 
 For he himself has said it, 
 And it's greatly to his credit. 
 That he is an Englishman! 
 
 All. That he is an Englishman! 
 
 Boat. For he might have been a Roosian, 
 A French, or Turk or Proosian, 
 Or perhaps Itali-an! 
 
 All. Or perhaps Itali-an! 
 
 Boat But in spite of all temptations 
 To belong to other naitons. 
 He remains an Englishman! 
 
 All. For in spite of all temptations, 
 
 etc. 
 
{Capt. trying to repress his anger.) 
 
 In uttering a reprobation 
 
 To any British Tar, 
 I try to speak with moderation, 
 
 But you have gone too far. 
 
 I'm very sorry to disparage 
 A humble foremast lad, 
 
 But to seek your captain's child 
 in marriage 
 Why, damme, it's too bad1 
 
 (During this Cousin Hebe and Female 
 Relatives have entered.) 
 
 All. (ShocJied.) Oh! 
 
 Capt. Yes, damme, it's too bad! 
 
 AH. Oh! 
 
 Capt. and Dic\ Deadeye. Yes, damme, it's 
 too bad. 
 
 (During this Sir Joseph has appeared on 
 poop'dec\. He is horrified at the bad Ian' 
 ^uage.) 
 
 Hebe. 
 
 Did you hear him — did you hear him? 
 
 Oh, the monster overbearing! 
 Don't go near him — don't go near him — 
 
 He is swearing — he is swearing — 
 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 My pain and my distress, 
 I find it is not easy to express; 
 My amazement — my surprise — 
 You may learn from the expression of 
 my eyes! 
 
 Capt. 
 
 My lord — one word — the facts are not 
 before you. 
 
 The word was injudicious, I allow — 
 But hear my explanation, I implore you. 
 
 And you will be indignant, too, I vow! 
 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 I will hear of no defence, 
 
 Attempt none if you're sensible. 
 
 That word of evil sense 
 Is wholly indefensible. 
 
 Go ribald, get you hence 
 To your cabin with celerity. 
 
 This is the consequence 
 Of ill'advised asperity! 
 (Exit Captain, disgraced, followed by 
 Josephine.) 
 
 AH. 
 
 This is the consequence, 
 Of ill'advised asperity! 
 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 For I'll teach you all, ere long. 
 
 To refrain from language strong. 
 
 For I haven't any sympathy for ill-bred 
 taunts! 
 
 Hebe. No more have his sisters, nor his 
 cousins, nor his aunts. 
 
 AH. For he is an Englishman, etc. (Re- 
 enter Josephine.) 
 
 Sir Joseph. Now, tell me, my fine fellow 
 — for you are a fine fellow — 
 
 Ralph. Yes, your honour. 
 
 Sir Joseph. How came your captain so far 
 to forget himself? I am quite sure you had 
 given him no cause for annoyance. 
 
 Ralph. Please, your honour, it was thus 
 wise. You see I'm only a top-man — a mere 
 foremast hand — 
 
 Sir Joseph. Don't be ashamed of that. 
 Your position as a top-man is a very ex- 
 alted one. 
 
 Ralph. Well, your honour, love bums as 
 brightly in the fo'c's'le as it does on the 
 quarter-deck, and Josephine is the fairest 
 bud that ever blossomed upon the tree of 
 a poor fellow's wildest hopes. 
 
 (Josephine rushes to Ralph's arms.) 
 
 Jos. Darhng! (Sir Joseph horrified.) 
 
 Ralph. She is the figurehead of my ship 
 of hfe — the bright beacon that guides me 
 into my port of happiness — the rarest, the 
 purest gem that ever sparkled on a poor 
 but worthy fellow's trusting brow! 
 
 All. Very pretty, very pretty! 
 
 Sir Joseph. Insolent sailor, you shall re- 
 pent this outrage. Seize him! (Two Marines 
 seize him and handcuff him.) 
 
 Jos. Oh, Sir Joseph, spare him, for I love 
 him tenderly. 
 
 Sir Joseph. Pray don't. I will teach this 
 presumptuous mariner to discipline his af- 
 fections. Have you such a thing as a dun- 
 geon on board? 
 
 AH. We have! 
 
 Dic\. They have! 
 
 Sir Joseph. Then load him with chains 
 and take him there at once! 
 
 Octette. 
 
 Ralph. 
 
 Farewell, my own. 
 Light of my life, farewell ! 
 
 For crime unknown 
 I go to a dungeon cell. 
 
 Jos. 
 
 I will atone. 
 In the meantime farewell ! 
 
 And all alone 
 
 Rejoice in your dungeon cell ! 
 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 A bone, a bone 
 
 I'll pick with this sailor fell; 
 
 Let him be shown 
 
 At once to his dungeon cell. 
 
 Boatswain, Dic\ Deadeye and Cousin Hebe. 
 
 He'll hear no tone 
 
 Of the maiden he loves so well! 
 
 No telephone 
 Communicates with his cell! 
 
 But. (mysteriously.) 
 
 But when is known 
 
 The secret I have to tell. 
 Wide will be thrown 
 
 The door of his dungeon cell. 
 
All. 
 
 For crime unknown 
 
 He goes to a dungeon cell! 
 
 {Ralph is led ojf in custody.) 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 My pain and my distress 
 
 Again it is not easy to express, 
 
 My amazement, my surprise 
 
 Again you may discover from my eyes! 
 
 AH. 
 
 How terrible the aspect of his eyes! 
 
 But. 
 
 Hold! Ere upon your loss 
 
 You lay much stress, 
 A long'concealed crime 
 
 I would confess. 
 
 Song. — Buttercup. 
 
 A many years ago, 
 
 When I was young and charming. 
 As some of you many know, 
 
 I practised baby-farming. 
 
 AH. 
 
 Now this is most alarming! 
 
 When she was young and charming. 
 She practised baby-farming, 
 A many years ago. 
 
 But. 
 
 Two tender babes I nussed, 
 One was of low condition. 
 
 The other, upper crust, 
 A regular patrician. 
 
 All. {Explaining to each other.) 
 
 Now, this is the position. 
 
 One was of low condition, 
 The other a patrician, 
 A many years ago. 
 
 But. 
 
 Oh, bitter is my cup! 
 
 'Mrrojcver 'could I do it? 
 
 I mixed those children up. 
 And not a creature knew it! 
 
 All. 
 
 However could you do it, 
 Some day, no doubt, you'll rue it, 
 Although no creature knew it, 
 So many years ago. 
 
 But. 
 
 In time each little waif 
 
 Forsook his foster mother. 
 The well'born babe was Ralph — 
 
 Your captain was the other! ! ! 
 
 All. 
 
 They left their foster mother. 
 The one was Ralph, our brother. 
 Our captain was the other, 
 A many years ago. 
 
 Sir Joseph. Then I am to understand 
 that Captain Corcoran and Ralph were 
 exchanged in choldhood's happy hours — 
 that Ralph is really the Captain, and the 
 Captain is Ralph? 
 
 But. That is the idea I intended to con- 
 vey, ofl&cially! 
 
 Sir Joseph. And very well you have con- 
 veyed it. Miss Buttercup! 
 
 But. Aye! Aye! yer onour. 
 
 Sir Joseph. Dear me! Let them appear 
 before me at once! 
 
 {Ralph enters as Captain; Captain as a 
 common sailor. Josephine rushes to his 
 arms.) 
 
 Jos. My father — a common sailor! 
 
 Capt. It is hard, is it not, my dear? 
 
 Sir Joseph. This is a very singular oc- 
 currence; I congratulate you both. (To 
 Ralph.) Desire that remarkably fine sea- 
 man to step forward. 
 
 Ralph. Concoran. Three paces to the 
 front — march! 
 
 Capt. If what? 
 
 Ralph. I don't understand. 
 Capt. If you please! 
 Ralph. What! 
 
 Sir Joseph. Perfectly right. If you please. 
 Ralph. Oh If you please. {Captain steps 
 forward.) 
 
 Sir Joseph. {7o Captain.) You are an 
 extremely fine fellow. 
 
 Capt. Yes, your honour. 
 
 Sir Joseph. So it seems that you were 
 Ralph and Ralph was you. 
 
 Capt. So it seems, your honour. 
 
 Sir Joseph. Well, I need not tell you 
 that after this change in your condition, a 
 marriage with your daughter will be out 
 of the question. 
 
 Capt. Don't say that, your honour — 
 love levels all ranks. 
 
 Sir Joseph. It does to a considerable ex- 
 tent, but it does not level them as much as 
 that. 
 
 Sir Joseph. {Handing Josephine to 
 Ralph.) Here — ^take her, sir, and mind you 
 treat her kindly. 
 
 Ralph and Jos. Oh bliss, oh rapture! 
 
 Capt. and But. Oh rapture, oh bliss! 
 
 Sir Joseph. Sad my lot and sorry, what 
 shall I do? I cannot live alone! 
 
 Hebe. Fear nothing — ^while I live I'll 
 not desert you. I'll sooth and comfort 
 your declining days. 
 
 Sir Joseph. No, don't do that. 
 
 Hebe. Yes, but indeed I'd rather — 
 Sir Joseph. (Resigned.) Oh! very well, 
 then! 
 
 To-morrow morn our vows shall all be 
 plighted. 
 
 Three loving pairs on the same day 
 united! 
 
 Quartette.— Josephine, Hebe, Ralph 
 and Deadeye. 
 
Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen, 
 The clouded sky is now serene. 
 The god of day— the orb of love. 
 Has hung his ensign high above. 
 The sky is all ablase. 
 
 With wooing words and loving song, 
 We'll chase the lagging hours along. 
 And if j^f fi^^^jthe maiden coy, 
 
 We'll murmur forth decorous joy 
 In dreamy roundelays. 
 
 Capt. 
 
 For he's the Captain of the "Pinafore.' 
 
 All. And a right good captain, too! 
 
 Capt. 
 
 And though before my fall 
 I was captain of you all, 
 I'm a member of the crew. 
 
 All. 
 
 And though before his fall, etc. 
 
 Capt. 
 
 I shall marry with a wife. 
 In my humble rank of life! {turning to 
 But.) 
 
 And you, my own, are she — 
 I must wander to and fro. 
 But wherever I may go, 
 
 I shall never be untrue to thee! 
 
 AJ!. What never? 
 
 Capt. No never! 
 
 AiJ. What never? 
 
 Capt. Hardly ever! 
 
 AIL Hardly ever be untrue to thee. 
 
 Then give three cheers, and one cheer 
 more, 
 
 For the former Captain of the "Pine- 
 fore." 
 
 But. 
 
 For he loves little Buttercup, dear little 
 Buttercup, 
 
 Though I could never tell why; 
 But still he loves Buttercup, poor little 
 Buttercup, 
 Sweet little Buttercup, aye! 
 
 All. For he loves, etc. 
 
 Sir Joseph. 
 
 I'm the monarch of the sea, 
 
 And when I've married thee (to 
 Hebe). 
 
 I'll be true to the devotion that my love 
 implants, 
 
 Hebe. 
 
 Then good'bye to your sisters, and your 
 cousins, and your aunts. 
 
 Especially your cousins. 
 
 Whom you reckon up by dozens. 
 
 All. 
 
 Then good-bye, etc. 
 
 For he is an Englishman, 
 And he himself hath said it. 
 And it's greatly to his credit 
 
 That he is an Englishman! 
 
 Curtain. 
 
The Pirates 
 
 OF Penzance 
 
 H. M. S^ 
 Pinafore 
 
 TV\^ 
 
 "''''^^'en,^^"^ 
 
 Patience 
 
^m^. 
 
 Martyn Green 
 
 Ella Halman 
 
 MARTYN GREEN comes of a musical family. His father was William 
 Green, world-famous tenor. It was his father who taught him to 
 sing at a very early age. Later he studied at the Royal College of 
 Music in London. He toured in "The Maid of the Mountains," "The 
 Southern Maid," and "Sybil" with Jose Collins. He also played 
 the part of Peter in "Hansel and Gretel." He joined the D'Oyly 
 Carte Opera Company in 1922, as a chorister and understudy, and 
 two weeks later played the part of Luiz in "The Gondoliers." For 
 some years he played small parts and understudied the "comedian" 
 roles, which he eventually played to delighted American audiences 
 during the 1934 season. Since that time he has continued to play, 
 sing and dance in these exacting roles with a hilarity, melody and 
 artistry that is characteristic of the man and the parts entrusted 
 to him. 
 
 ELLA HALMAN is a native ol Sussex. She first took up singing 
 seriously at the age of 18, when she won the Sussex County Scholar- 
 ship and studied for several years at the Brighton School of Music 
 She commenced her Operatic career with the Carl Rosa Opera Com- 
 pany and toured with them for three years, after which she resumed 
 her studies, this time in London and took her L.R.A.M. there. 
 After some experience in concert work and teaching. Miss Halman's 
 ambitions led her back to the stage and she joined the D'Oyly Carte 
 Opera Company in 1937, singing in the chorus for three years. 
 Then came the opportunity of playing the role of "The Duchess of 
 Plaza-Toro" at very short notice, and it was immediately obvious 
 that she was ideally suited to the contralto roles which she took over 
 at the end of 1939 and has played with marked success ever since. 
 
 MARGARET MITCHELL, one of the young principal sopranos in 
 the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company, is of Scottish birth, having been 
 born in Dollar, a few miles outside Glasgow in 1927. She was edu- 
 cated at Dollar Academy and took up singing at an early age; whilst 
 training during the War she entertained at Hospitals and Camps. 
 Her first audition with the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company was at the 
 age of I'^Yl years, but she was told that she was too young. Later 
 she was sent for to attend another audition and joined the Company; 
 within a few weeks she played the part of "Yura-Yum" in "The 
 Mikado." Margaret Mitchell is the possessor of a sweet soprano voice 
 and has a distinct stage personality. 
 
 CHARLES DORNING, one of the youthful members of the D'Oyly 
 Carte Opera Company who has recently been engaged to play light 
 baritone roles in the Gilbert and Sullivan Operas, will be making 
 his first stage appearance in America during the Company's season 
 at the Century Theatre. Charles Doming is a South African, hav- 
 ing been born in Salisbury, Rhodesia, and was educated there. At 
 the age of 17 he came to London to seek a stage career, beginning 
 in the Richmond (Surrey) Repertory Company and very soon was 
 playing leading juvenile parts. Later he played important parts in 
 Shakespeare plays with the Elizabethan Stage Society under William 
 Poel, and, during this time, he studied singing making rapid pro- 
 gress, very soon becoming a member of the Carl Rosa Opera Com- 
 pany during their season at the Lyceum Theatre in London. After 
 this he was engaged to play a leading part in "A Waltz Dream" 
 and "No No Nanette." Then came his first big London success as 
 "Jolidon" in "The Merrv Widow" at His Majesty's Theatre. At short 
 
 Margaret Mitchell 
 
 Charles Dorning 
 
 notice he took over the leading part in "Sweet Yesterday" the 
 musical play at the Adelphi Theatre, then toured in "The Lisbon 
 Story" and returned again to the Adelphi Theatre in "Can Can." 
 
 RICHARD WATSON, the bass baritone who has rejoined the 
 D'Oyly Carte Opera Company after a few years in Australia playing 
 Gilbert and Sullivan roles with marked success. Richard Watson was 
 a student at University Conservatorium, Adelaide, and later became 
 Assistant Master at King's College, Adelaide. He gained the Elder 
 Overseas Scholarship at the Royal College of Music, London. 1927- 
 1930 and became principal bass with the Covent Garden English 
 Opera Company and sang leading roles during the International 
 seasons 1930-1932. Following this he joined the D'Oyly Carte Opera 
 Company playing various roles until he went to Australia in 193 5, 
 returning to Covent Garden m 1937 and then back to Australia in 
 1940. The present visit will be Richard Watson's first visit to America 
 with the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company. 
 
 DENISE FINDLAY. There is a delightful suburb to the West of 
 Paris named Marly-le Roi and it was in that little tow/n of Seine-et- 
 Oise some four and twenty years ago that Denise Findlay was born, 
 an issue of one of the many romances of the war of 1914-18. The 
 Scottish soldier met the French girl and both fell in love. They 
 married when the former soldier returned to France after the war 
 to seek his sweetheart and to make his home m that fair country. 
 Denise sang from the earliest age with much purity and sweetness. 
 When she was four her range of operatic anas was startling. An 
 earnest, merry, singing httle girl, she was eight when the family left 
 France, going to Glasgow in Scotland and shortly afterward., to 
 Manchester where for some years they resided before returning to 
 Glasgow. Little Denise's talent for singing did not develop for a 
 time for she had become shy with strangers. Her parents had almost 
 despaired of her using her voice publicly until the time came when 
 she was persuaded to sing at a Church Concert. Appreciation of her 
 voice was immediate. Immediate also was the decision to have that 
 voice trained. From that time nearly eight years ago Denise decided 
 that she would be an operatic singer. When she felt her technique 
 was good enough to justify her taking the step, she secured an 
 introduction to Mr. Rupert D'Oyly Carte who granted her an audi- 
 tion m the early spring of that year. The remainder of Denise's story 
 IS quickly told. Having joined the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company as a 
 chorister she is now playing soubrette parts in the Company. 
 
 DARRELL FANCOURT, one of the great names known to Gilbert 
 and Sullivan lovers since 1920, when he joined the D'Oyly Carte 
 Opera Company. Darrell Fancourt plays the bass baritone parts in 
 the Operas, and in his early days studied singing in Germany for 
 eight years under such notable instructors as Lilli Lehmann, Alberto 
 Randegger, Armando Leconte and Dr. Lierhammer. He sang at Sym- 
 phony Concerts in Paris, Berlin, Geneva and Lausanne, and later 
 he sang regularly at Promenade Concerts under Sir Henry Wood 
 and at the Chappell Ballad Concerts. In 1919 he sang the part of 
 "Prince Galitzky" in "Prince Igor" in the Grand Opera Season at 
 the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. He has been prominently 
 identified with the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company ever since he 
 first joined. 
 
 RiCH.ARD W.ATSON 
 
 Denise Findlay 
 
 Darrell Fancourt 
 
Thomas Round 
 
 Helen Roberts 
 
 Joan Gillingham 
 
 Leonard Osborn 
 
 THOMAS ROUND, who is now sharing the tenor roles with 
 Leonard Osborn in the Gilbert and Sullivan Operas with the D'Oyly 
 Carte Opera Company, is a native of Lancashire, having been born 
 in 19 ly at Barrow-in-Furness, He joined the Company at the com- 
 mencement of the present tour and is now playing "Nanki-Poo" in 
 "The Mikado," "Luiz" in "The Gondoliers," "Frederic" in "The 
 Pirates of Penzance" and "ToUoUer" in "lolanthe." 
 
 HELEN ROBERTS, who hails from London, studied music under 
 Spencer Clay, after which she went to Italy to perfect her studies 
 and became associated with the Milan Opera Company, singing the 
 part of "Novina" in Donizetti's Opera "Don Pasquale." Returning 
 to England, she appeared as the "Doll" and Antonia" in "The Tales 
 of Hoffman." In f93 2 she won the Gold Medal for the best ren- 
 dering of one of Sir Arthur Sullivan's arias, which aroused an inter- 
 est in the Gilbert and Sullivan Operas, and, after a season with the 
 Glyndebourne Opera Company, she was engaged by the D'Oyly 
 Carte Opera Company as one of the principal sopranos. Helen Rob- 
 erts scored a distinct personal success m the Operas on her previous 
 visit to the States with the Company. 
 
 training and in,structing. After serving for six years he was demobbed 
 with the rank of Flight-Lieutenant. During three years in Iceland 
 he gave a number of concerts and later, when stationed in Canter- 
 bury, sang in the Cathedral Choir at weekends and gave recitals at 
 the Cathedral. Leonard Osborn is a native of Surrey and first 
 studied for school teaching, but later went into industry as an analy- 
 tical chemist. On his release from the R.A.F. in 1946 he returned 
 to the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company, sharing the tenor roles with 
 Thomas Round, playing "Marco" m "The Gondoliers," "Fairfax" 
 in "The Yeomen of the Guard" and the "Duke" m "Patience." 
 
 RICHARD WALKER joined the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company m 
 1924 as a chorister and understudy. He very soon proved himself 
 a true Gilbert and Sullivan artist and has for some years now been 
 entrusted with baritone leads. Richard Walker studied singing at 
 the Midland Conservatoire and became an Associate and Licentiate 
 of the London College of Music. Like Darrell Fancourt, Helen 
 Roberts and others of the present Company, he scored a distinct 
 success on his previous visits to the States. 
 
 JOAN GILLINGHAM, who is another of the youthful members 
 of the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company, is a Londoner by birth and, 
 with her twin sister, was educated at the Tiffin Girls' School at 
 Kingston, Surrey, until she was eighteen. On leaving school she 
 obtained a secretarial post in London. Being keen on music she took 
 up voice training under Madam Retta Ariani. In 1942 Joan Gilling- 
 ham volunteered for the W.A.A.F. and became a Radar Operator. 
 Later, a special W.A.A.F. show was formed at the Air Ministry, 
 and, with her twin sister, she was chosen with eight others out of 
 an audition given to 500. The show toured England and the Con- 
 tinent twice, performing at R.A.F, Camps and Garrison Theatres 
 in Paris, Bordeaux, Marseilles, Lyons, Brussels, Lubeck, Keil and 
 Hamburg, etc. On being demobilized Joan Gillingham returned to 
 her secretarial post for a few months, but she found the urge for 
 the Theatre was uppermost, and having been keenly interested in 
 the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company's productions of Gilbert and 
 Sullivan Operas, she applied for an audition which she gave at the 
 Savoy Theatre and joined the Company on tour the following month. 
 A few weeks later she played her first part, that of "Leila" in 
 "lolanthe," and was then given the opportunity of playing several 
 small parts, in which she has proved herself very successful. 
 
 LEONARD OSBORN, who first joined the D'Oyly Carte Opera 
 Company in 1937 as understudy and playing small parts, is another 
 of the Company who served in the R,A.F., his duties mainly being 
 
 GWYNETH CULLIMORE, one of the youthful members of the 
 D'Oyly Carte Opera Company, being in the early twenties, was 
 born in a small Welsh village and lived a village life until moving to 
 Newport about six years ago. A well-known Welsh professor of 
 music recognized her ability and with him she studied voice pro- 
 duction. Her ambition was to join an Opera Company, preferably 
 the D'Oyly Carte. During the War Miss CuUimore worked as a 
 shorthand typist in the Civil Service and m her spare time she was 
 entertaining troups and wounded soldiers, in addition to singing at 
 concerts for charities. She was eventually granted an audition by 
 the D'Oyly Carte Company, and when she obtained her release from 
 the Ministry of Supply joined the Company as a chorister. She very 
 soon became an understudy and was shortly afterwards entrusted 
 with the part of "The Plaintiff" in "Trial by Jury," 
 
 ISIDORE GODFREY, the musical director of the Company, is a 
 Londoner. He received his musical training at the Guildhall School 
 of Music, London, under the late Sir Landon Ronald, the famous 
 composer and conducter. He holds the diploma of Associateship, 
 with gold medal, for the highest marks of his year. Mr. Godfrey 
 is also a very gifted pianist and before joining the Company gave 
 many recitals in this capacity. He joined the D'Oyly Carte Opera 
 Company in 1925 and has toured with them all over England, 
 Scotland and Ireland. This is Mr. Godfrey's fourth visit to America 
 with the Company. 
 
 Richard "Walker 
 
 GWYNETH CuLLIMORE 
 
 Isidore Godfrey 
 
^^ 
 
 A Magnificent Tribute 
 
 From an eminent Scholar and Gentleman 
 
 Gilbert and Sullivan 
 
 It is my conviction that one of the best things that has 
 happened in many years is the visit to the United States 
 of the D'Oyly Carte Gilbert and Sullivan Opera Company 
 These distinguished artists have done more to increase and 
 to cement good fellowship between America and Great 
 Britain than almost any other agency. They did not know 
 when they planned this excursion whether it would be 
 successful or not; they knew that our country was the 
 home of jasz and musical comedy; they were not at all 
 certain that light operas more than 50 years old, given 
 without any changes or any concessions to what is supposed 
 to be contemporary taste would be received with enthusiasm 
 
 The fact is that the productions by this company have 
 been and are the most successful entertainments in New 
 York; the house is sold out for every performance, the sta> 
 in our metropolis has already been prolonged a month 
 longer than was advertised originally; and it looks as if 
 they might go on for two or three years if they wished. 
 
 The result is that all these British singers love Americans 
 is they never loved them before; and on the other hand, 
 
 Americans are so delighted with the presentation of thest 
 operatic masterpieces and with the exquisite art displayed 
 by the troupe from across the sea, that we have an affection 
 for these singers and musicians that cannot be cooled or 
 diminished by time. 
 
 The wit and humor of Gilbert, the lovely melodies ot 
 Sullivan, have been a fresh revelation; it is not too much 
 to say they have helped to educate us in appreciation of 
 the higher form of entertainment. Light opera, as exhibited 
 by this company, is funnier than musical comedy and far 
 more fascinating than jazz. 
 
 It would be a serious error to suppose that in the history 
 of music these delightful comic operas take a secondary 
 place. Sir Arthur Sullivan is the greatest musical composer 
 in the history of Great Britain. His works are masterpieces 
 
 We shall continue to talk about these performances long 
 after the company have returned to their native land; and 
 It is certain that in their native land they will have onl> 
 the most enthusiastic and most affectionate expressions in 
 talking about Americans 
 
 William Lyon Phelps 
 
 Act I. 
 
 lOLANTHF. 
 
 PRINTED IN U.S. A 
 
 PiMished by 
 
 Program Publishing Ck),