ORIGINAL PLAYS

BY

W. S. GILBERT.

New York: SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, & CO. 1876.

Stereotyped and printed by Rand, Avery, and Company, 117 Franklin Street, Boston.

NOTE.

The Story upon which ‘The Palace of Truth’ is founded is probably as old as the ‘Arabian Nights.’ ‘The Princess’ is a respectful parody of Mr. Tennyson’s exquisite poem. It has been generally held, I believe, that if a dramatist uses the mere outline of an existing story for dramatic purposes, he is at liberty to describe his play as “original.”

W. S. GILBERT.

London, Nov. 18, 1875.

CONTENTS.

[Pg 9]

THE WICKED WORLD:

An Original Fairy Comedy,

IN THREE ACTS.

[Pg 10]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SCENE: IN FAIRY LAND.

⁂ The action is comprised within the space of twenty-four hours.

[Pg 11]

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by Mr. Buckstone.

[Pg 13]

THE WICKED WORLD.

ACT I.

Scene—Fairy Land. A beautiful, but fanciful landscape, which is supposed to lie on the upper side of a cloud. The cloud is suspended over the earth, a portion of which (representing “a bird’s-eye view” of a mediæval city), is seen, far below, through a rent or gap in the cloud.

As the curtain rises Zayda is discovered standing in a thoughtful attitude, contemplating the world at her feet. To her enters Darine.

Enter Phyllon.

Enter Selene.

Enter Ethais, Locrine, Neodie, Leila, and other Fairies.

Enter Lutin.

[Pg 25]

The fairies conceal themselves. Hurried music; to which enter Sir Ethais and Sir Phyllon, hurriedly, over the edge of cloud, as if impelled by some invisible and irresistible power from below. Sir Ethais and Sir Phyllon have their swords drawn. They are dressed as barbaric knights, and, while bearing a facial resemblance to their fairy counterparts, present as strong a contrast as possible in their costume and demeanor.

(They fight. The fairies watch the combat unobserved with great interest.)

(During this dialogue, Darine shows by her manner that she takes great interest in Ethais.)

(Eth. kisses Sel. and Phyl. kisses Zay.)

Enter Lutin unobserved.

Selene kneels at Ethais’ feet.

ACT II.

Scene, same as Act I.

[Darine, Zayda, Leila, Locrine, other Fairies, and Neodie discovered anxiously watching the entrance to Selene’s bower.]

Enter Selene from bower, Darine retires up.

(Darine, who has listened with intense anxiety to this speech, goes off silently, but in an agony of grief.)

(Ethais has entered unperceived from bower and overheard the last three lines. He is very pale and weak, and his arm is in a sling.)

Enter Darine, who has overheard the last few lines.

Enter Selene from bower.

(Hurried music. Enter Mortal Lutin over edge of precipice, staggering on the stage as if violently impelled from below.)

Enter Darine unobserved.

Enter Selene from bower.

Enter Fairies.

[Pg 60]

ACT III.

Scene, same as Acts I. and II.

Lutin discovered sitting, in deep dejection. Zayda is at his feet trying to arouse him. Ethais is lying insensible at entrance to bower, covered with a mantle.

Enter Darine, who goes to Ethais. She overhears what follows.

(Darine comes forward. Exit Zayda, in terror.)

(Darine administers the potion to Ethais, who gradually revives.)

Enter Selene from bower.

Enter Locrine.

Ethais, about to follow him, is detained by Selene.

[Throws off Selene, who falls senseless. He leaps through cloud, and descends. As Ethais disappears, the fairies, who have grouped themselves about the stage in attitudes of despair, gradually seem to wake as from a dream.]

Enter Lutin, followed by Ethais and Phyllon, as fairies.

[Pg 73]

PYGMALION AND GALATEA:

An Original Mythological Comedy,

IN THREE ACTS.

[Pg 74]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SCENE: PYGMALION’S STUDIO.

⁂ The action is comprised within the space of twenty-four hours.

[Pg 75]

PYGMALION AND GALATEA.

ACT I.

Scene: PYGMALION’S STUDIO.

[Several classical statues are placed about the room; at the back a temple or cabinet containing a statue of Galatea, before which curtains are drawn concealing the statue from the audience.]

[Mimos, a slave, is discovered at work on a half finished statue. To him enters Agesimos.]

[Pg 77]

Enter Pygmalion.

Enter Cynisca.

Enter Myrine.

Leucippe appears at door.

Mimos enters, and gives Pygmalion a scroll, which he reads.

[Pyg. tears away curtain and discovers Galatea alive.]

[During this speech Pygmalion has shown symptoms of irresolution; at its conclusion he takes her in his arms, and embraces her passionately.]

ACT II.

Scene: Same as Act I.

[Pygmalion discovered at work on an unfinished statue.]

[Pg 98]

Enter Myrine, in great excitement.

(Myrine opens the curtains and sees the pedestal empty.)

Enter Leucippe, with a Fawn that he has shot.

Enter Myrine.

Enter Leucippe.

Enter Pygmalion, with Fawn.

Enter Mimos.

Enter Daphne.

Enter Chrysos.

Enter Daphne.

Enter Mimos.

[Pg 117]

Enter Myrine.

Enter Pygmalion.

Enter Cynisca.

(Pygmalion, with an exclamation, covers his eyes with his hands.)

ACT III.

Scene: Same as Acts I. and II.

Enter Daphne.

Enter Myrine, weeping.

Enter Cynisca.

Enter Myrine, in great distress.

Enter Galatea.

Enter Pygmalion, unobserved, led by Myrine.

(Pygmalion utters an exclamation of joy. She rushes to him and seizes his hand.)

(Galatea, at first delighted, learns in the course of this speech that Pygmalion takes her for Cynisca, and expresses extreme anguish.)

Enter Cynisca, unobserved.

(She substitutes Cynisca, and retires, weeping. Cynisca takes him to her arms and kisses him. He recovers his sight.)

Enter Myrine and Leucippe.

Enter Galatea.

(Pygmalion rushes to the veil and tears it away, discovering Galatea as a statue on the pedestal, as in Act I.)

[Pg 135]

CHARITY:

A Play,

IN FOUR ACTS.

[Pg 136]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

ACTS I. AND II. BOUDOIR IN MRS. VAN BRUGH’S COUNTRY HOUSE.

ACT III. ROOM IN MR. SMAILEY’S HOUSE.

ACT IV. LIBRARY AT DR. ATHELNEY’S.

[A few days’ interval between each Act.]

[Pg 137]

CHARITY.

ACT I.

Scene: A pretty boudoir in Mrs. Van Brugh’s country-house.

Eve discovered with Frederick; Frederick on chair, Eve on footstool.

Fred. (dictating to Eve, who writes in a memorandum book at his feet). Let me see. Three hundred oranges, six hundred buns, thirty gallons of tea, twelve large plum cakes. So much for the school-children’s bodies. As for their minds—

Eve. Oh, we’ve taken great care of their minds. In the first place, the amateur minstrels from Locroft are coming, with some lovely part songs.

Fred. Part songs. Come, that’s well. Dr. Watts?

Eve. Oh dear, no. Doctors Moore and Burgess!—Much jollier. (He shakes his head gravely.) Then we have a magic lantern. Here are the views. (Handing them.)

Fred. (examining them). A person on horseback, galloping at full speed. Here he is again. Probably the flight of Xerxes.

Eve. No—the flight of John Gilpin.

Fred. Very trivial, Eve dear; very trivial.

[Pg 138]

Eve. Oh, but it will amuse them much more than the flight of Xerxes.

Fred. (gravely). My dear Eve, is this giddiness quite consistent with the nature of the good work before us?

Eve. Mayn’t one be good and jolly too?

Fred. Scarcely. Grave work should be undertaken gravely, and with a sense of responsibility.

Eve. But I don’t call a school feast grave work.

Fred. All work is grave when one has regard to the issues that may come of it. This school feast, trivial as it may seem to you—this matter of buns and big plum cakes—may be productive, for instance, of much—of much—

Eve. Indigestion? That’s grave indeed! (He seems annoyed.) There, I’m very sorry I teased you, dear old boy; but you look at every thing from such a serious point of view.

Fred. Am I too serious? Perhaps I am. And yet in my quiet undemonstrative way I am very happy.

Eve. If you are not happy dear, who should be?

Fred. Yes, Eve, who indeed! (Kisses her.)

Eve. I did not mean that. There is very little in me to make such a man as you happy, unless it be the prospect of making me as good and earnest as yourself—a poor prospect, I’m afraid, for I’m a very silly little girl.

Fred. At least I will try.

Eve. Begin now; tell me of my faults.

[Pg 139]

Fred. No, no; that would be a very ungrateful task.

Eve. Oh, if you neglect all tasks that are not pleasant, you are too like me to allow of my hoping to learn any thing of you.

Fred. Very aptly put, Eve. Well then, you are too giddy, and too apt to laugh when you should sigh.

Eve. Oh, but I am naturally rather—jolly. Mamma has taught me to be so. Mamma’s views are so entirely opposed to yours.

Fred. Yes; I am deeply sorry for it. If it were not so, perhaps Mrs. Van Brugh would like me better.

Eve. Mamma does like you, dear. She thinks you are very grave and precise and methodical, but I am sure she likes you—or why did she consent to our engagement?

Fred. Because she loves you so well that she has the heart to thwart you in nothing. She is an admirable woman—good, kind—charitable beyond measure—beloved, honored, and courted by all——

Eve. The best woman in the world!

Fred. But she does not understand me. Well, time will work a change, and I must be content to wait.

Enter Servant.

Servant. Mr. Edward Athelney, miss, is in the drawing room.

[Pg 140]

Eve. Dear me, how tiresome.

Fred. (calmly). Miss Van Brugh is not at home.

Eve. (astonished). Oh, Frederick, I am![Exit Servant.

Fred. Well, yes, of course in one sense you certainly are. But being engaged upon a good work, with which an interruption would seriously interfere, you may be said—metaphorically, of course, and for the purposes of this particular case—to be, to a certain extent, out.

Eve. (puzzled). I am quite sure I am at home, dear, in every possible sense of the word. You don’t dislike Edward, do you?

Fred. You know very well that I dislike no one.

Eve. I’m sure of that. You love all men.

Fred. No doubt, Eve, I love all men. But you will understand that I love some men less than others; and, although I love Edward Athelney very much indeed, I love him, perhaps, less than anybody else in the world.

Eve. But this is quite astonishing! Has Ted Athelney a fault? What is it? Come, sir, name one fault if you can. And mind, he’s my big brother, or as good, so be careful.

Fred. “Frater nascitur non fit.”

Eve. Oh!

Fred. I don’t believe in your amateur brother. With every desire to confine himself to the duties of the character he undertakes, he is nevertheless apt to overlook the exact point where the brother ends and the lover begins.

[Pg 141]

Eve. (puzzled). The lover!

Fred. The brother by birth keeps well within bounds, but the amateur treads so often on the border line that in time it becomes obliterated and the functions merge.

Eve. Ted Athelney a lover of mine! Oh, that’s too absurd. Ted Athelney—that great, clumsy, middle-aged, awkward, good-natured, apple-faced man, a lover of anybody’s, and least of all, of mine! Why he’s forty! Oh, it’s shocking—it’s horrible! I won’t hear any thing so dreadful of any one I love so much.

Fred. You admit that you love him?

Eve. Oh, yes, I love him—but I don’t love him. (Nestling against Fred.) Don’t you understand the difference?

Fred. I don’t like his calling you Eve.

Eve. Why you wouldn’t have him—oh, you never could want Ted Athelney to call me Miss Van Brugh?

Fred. Then he kisses you.

Eve. Of course he does, dear. Kisses me? So does mamma!

Fred. No doubt, but there’s some difference.

Eve. A difference! What difference?

Fred. This, if no other: that I object to the one, and don’t object to the other. (Turns away.)

Eve. (disappointed). Then I’m not to kiss Ted Athelney any more.

[Pg 142]

Enter Ted Athelney.

Ted. Well, Eve, old lady, here I am, back again—well and hearty.

Eve. Ted, stand back; I’m not to kiss you.

Ted. Eh? Why not?

Eve. It’s wrong. Isn’t it? (To Fred.)

Fred. I’m sorry you think it necessary to ask the question.

Eve. There, Ted. Only think of the wrong we’ve been doing for years and years, and never knew it!

Ted. But who told you it was wrong. Not conscience, I’ll be sworn.

Eve. No; that’s the worst of it. There’s something wrong with my conscience; it doesn’t seem to be up to its work. From some motive—mistaken politeness, perhaps—it declines to assert itself. Awful, isn’t it?

Ted. Come, something’s happened during my absence in town; tell me what it is.

Eve. Something of a tremendous nature has happened! Ted Athelney, I mustn’t call you Ted Athelney any longer!

Ted. What?

Eve. And I mustn’t let you kiss me, because I’m going to be married.

Ted. Married! (Starting.)

Eve. Yes.

Ted. To—? (Indicating Frederick.)

Eve. Yes. (He is much agitated.) Won’t you tell me that you are glad to hear it?

[Pg 143]

Ted. (after a pause). Yes, Eve, I’m glad of any thing that makes you happy. It has come upon me very suddenly. I never thought of your getting married. I was a great ass, for it must have come about some time or other, and why not now? and it must have been to some fellow, and why not Fred Smailey? God bless you, Eve. I must get it well into my mind before I can talk about it, and mine is a mind that takes a good deal of getting at. I hope and believe that you will be happy. (She retires.) Fred, old man——

(Goes to Fred; takes his hand and tries to speak, but in vain.)

Enter Mrs. Van Brugh.

Mrs. V. B. Well, I’ve done for myself now; go away from me; I’m a pariah, an outcast; don’t, for goodness’ sake, be seen talking with me.

Eve. Why, mamma, dear, what on earth have you been doing?

Mrs. V. B. Doing? Listen and shudder! I’ve put a Dissenter into my almshouses! (Sits at table.)

Fred. (rising). A Dissenter?

Mrs. V. B. A real live Dissenter. Isn’t it awful!

Fred. No, awful is too strong a term; but I think it was a very, very sad mistake.

Mrs. V. B. A thousand thanks for your toleration—I shall never forget it. The village is outraged—they have stood my eccentricities long enough. It was bad enough when I put a Roman[Pg 144] Catholic in, but in consideration of the almshouses being my own they were good enough to swallow the Roman Catholic. Then came a Jew—well, the village was merciful, and with a few wry faces they swallowed even the Jew. But a Dissenter! The line must be drawn somewhere, and High and Low Church are agreed that it must be drawn at Dissenters. The churchwardens look the other way when I pass. The clerk’s religious zeal causes him to turn into the “Red Cow,” rather than touch his hat to me, and even the dirty little boys run after me shouting “No Popery” at the top of their voices, though I’m sure I don’t see how it applies.

Fred. But, my dear Mrs. Van Brugh, you mean well I’m sure—but a Jew, a Catholic, and a Dissenter!—is there no such thing as a starving Churchman to be found?

Mrs. V. B. There are but too many starving men of all denominations, but while I’m hunting out the Churchman, the Jew, the Catholic and the Dissenter will perish, and that would never do, would it?

Fred. That is the Christianity of impulse. I would feed him that belonged to my own church, and if he did not belong to it, I would not feed him at all.

Mrs. V. B. That is the Christianity of Religious Politics. As to these poor people, they will shake down and agree very well in time. Nothing is so conducive to toleration as the knowledge that one’s bread depends upon it. It applies to all conditions[Pg 145] of life, from almshouses to Happy Families. Where are you going?

Eve. We are going down to the school to see the cakes and oranges and decorations——

Fred. (seriously). And to impress upon the children the danger of introducing inharmonious elements into their little almshouses.

Mrs. V. B. Well, I hope you’ll be more successful with them than with me. Their case is much more critical than mine, I assure you. (Exeunt Eve and Fred. Mrs. Van Brugh sees Edward, who is sitting at back, with his head between his hands.) Why, who’s this? Edward Athelney, returned at last to his disconsolate village? Go away, sir—don’t come near me—you’re a reprobate—you’ve been in London ten days and nobody to look after you. Give an account of yourself. It’s awful to think of the villainy a thoroughly badly disposed young man can get through in ten days in London, if I’m not there to look after him—come, sir, all your crimes, please, in alphabetical order—now then, A—Arson. Any arson? No? Quite sure? Come now, that’s something—Then we go to Burglary? Bigamy? No Bigamy? Come, it’s not as bad as I thought.—Why (seeing that he looks very wretched), what on earth is the matter—why, my poor Ted—what is distressing you? I never saw you look so wretched in my life!

Ted. Oh! Mrs. Van Brugh, I’m awfully unhappy!

Mrs. V. B. My poor old friend—tell me all about it.

[Pg 146]

Ted. It’s soon told—Mrs. Van Brugh, you have a daughter, who’s the best and loveliest girl I ever saw in my life.

Mrs. V. B. (pause). My poor Edward!

Ted. Did—did you know that I—that I was like this?

Mrs. V. B. No! no! no!

Ted. Nor I, it came on me like a thunderclap—my love for that little girl has grown as imperceptibly as my age has grown—I’ve taken no note of either till now—when I rub my eyes and find that I love her dearly, and that I’m eight-and-thirty!

Mrs. V. B. But, surely you know—you must have heard——

Ted. Yes, yes, I’ve just heard—Fred Smailey’s a lucky fellow, and he deserves his luck.

Mrs. V. B. Perhaps. I don’t know. I don’t like Fred Smailey.

Ted. (amazed). You don’t like Smailey?

Mrs. V. B. No, I don’t, and I’m afraid I show it. My dear old friend, it would have made me very happy to have seen you married to Eve, but he was first in the field, and she loves him. At first I wouldn’t hear of it—but she fell ill—might have died—well I’m her mother, and I love her, and I gave in. I know nothing against him.

Ted. Oh, Fred Smailey’s a good fellow, a thorough good fellow. You do him an injustice, indeed you do; I never knew a man with such a sense of gratitude—it’s perfectly astonishing. Remember[Pg 147] how he gave me that splendid colly, when I pulled him out of the ice, last February, and how in return for my lending him money to pay his college debts, he got his father to let me shoot over Rushout—no—no—if Fred Smailey has a fault, he’s too good for this world.

Mrs. V. B. Is he?—at all events he’s too solemn.

Ted. Here’s the dad coming—he mustn’t see me like this. Good-by, Mrs. Van Brugh. You won’t speak of this to any one, I know—not that I’ve reason to be ashamed of it, but it’ll pain Eve and Fred too. I’ll bear up, never fear, and Eve shall never know—after all, her happiness is the great end, and, so that it’s brought about, what matter whether Fred or I do it, so that it’s done. It’s Fred’s job, not mine—better luck for him, worse luck for me.[Exit.

Mrs. V. B. Poor fellow! There goes a heart of gold with a head of cotton-wool! Oh, Eve, Eve, my dear, I’m very sad for you! Is it head or heart that makes the best husband? Better that baby-hearted simpleton than the sharpest Smailey that ever stepped! I’m very unjust. Heaven knows that I, of all women in this world, should be slow to judge. But my dislike to that man, to his family, to every thing that relates to him, is intuitive. However, the mischief, if mischief there be, is done; I’ll make the best of it.

[Pg 148]

Enter Dr. Athelney, very hurriedly.

Dr. A. My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, I come without a moment’s loss of time, to thank you in my late curate Twemlow’s name for your great kindness in presenting him to the Crabthorpe living. He has a wife and four children, and is nearly mad with joy and gratitude. I’ve brought you his letter.

Mrs. V. B. I won’t read it, doctor. I can’t bear gratitude; it makes my eyes red. Take it away. I am only too glad to have helped a struggling and deserving man. Now, I’m very glad you’ve come, because I want to consult you on a business matter of some importance.

Dr. A. My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, I have been the intellectual head of this village for fifty-three years, and nobody ever yet paid me the compliment of consulting me on a matter of business.

Mrs. V. B. Then I’ve no doubt I’m going to hit upon a neglected mine of commercial sagacity!