Chorus: We are going to remodel it in England.
King: The Brewers and the Cotton Lords no longer seek admission, And literary merit meets with proper recognition--
Chorus: As literary merit does in England!
King: Who knows but we may count among our intellectual chickens Like you, an Earl of Thackery and p"r"aps a Duke of d.i.c.kens-- Lord Fildes and Viscount Millais (when they come) we"ll welcome sweetly--
Chorus: In short, this happy country has been Anglicized completely!
It really is surprising, etc.
(At the end all rise and replace their chairs.)
King: Now, then for our first Drawing-Room. Where are the Prin- cesses? What an extraordinary thing it is that since Euro- pean looking-gla.s.ses have been supplied to the Royal bed- rooms my daughters are invariably late!
Lord D.: Sir, their Royal Highnesses await your pleasure in the Ante-room.
King: Oh. Then request them to do us the favor to enter at once.
(Enter all the Royal Household, including (besides the Lord Chamber- lain) the Vice-Chamberlain, the Master of the Horse, the Master of the Buckhounds, the Lord High Treasurer, the Lord Steward, the Comptroller of the Household, the Lord-in-Waiting, the Field Officer in Brigade Waiting, the Gold and Silver Stick, and the Gentlemen Ushers. Then enter the three Princesses (their trains carried by Pages of Honor), Lady Sophy, and the Ladies-in-Waiting.)
King: My daughters, we are about to attempt a very solemn ceremo- nial, so no giggling, if you please. Now, my Lord Chamber- lain, we are ready.
Lord D.: Then, ladies and gentlemen, places, if you please. His Maj- esty will take his place in front of the throne, and will be so obliging as to embrace all the debutantes. (LADY SOPHY much shocked.)
King: What--must I really?
Lord D.: Absolutely indispensable.
King: More jam for the Palace Peeper!
(The King takes his place in front of the throne, the Princess Zara on his left, the two younger Princesses on the left of Zara.)
King: Now, is every one in his place?
Lord D.: Every one is in his place.
King: Then let the revels commence.
(Enter the ladies attending the Drawing-Room. They give their cards to the Groom-in-Waiting, who pa.s.ses them to the Lord-in-Waiting, who pa.s.ses them to the Vice-Chamberlain, who pa.s.ses them to the Lord Chamberlain, who reads the names to the King as each lady approaches. The ladies curtsey in succession to the King and the three Princesses, and pa.s.s out. When all the presentations have been accomplished, the King, Princesses, and Lady Sophy come forward, and all the ladies re-enter.)
RECITATIVE -- King
This ceremonial our wish displays To copy all Great Britain"s courtly ways.
Though lofty aims catastrophe entail, We"ll gloriously succeed or n.o.bly fail!
UNACCOMPANIED CHORUS
Eagle High in Cloudland soaring-- Sparrow twittering on a reed-- Tiger in the jungle roaring-- Frightened fawn in gra.s.sy mead-- Let the eagle, not the sparrow, Be the object of your arrow-- Fix the tiger with your eye-- Pa.s.s the fawn in pity by.
Glory then will crown the day-- Glory, glory, anyway!
Exit all.
Enter Scaphio and Phantis, now dressed as judges in red and ermine robes and undress wigs. They come down stage melodramatically -- working together.
DUET -- Scaphio and Phantis.
Sca.: With fury deep we burn
Phan.: We do--
Sca.: We fume with smothered rage--
Phan.: We do--
Sca.: These Englishmen who rule supreme, Their undertaking they redeem By stifling every harmless scheme In which we both engage--
Phan.: They do--
Sca.: In which we both engage--
Phan.: We think it is our turn--
Sca.: We do--
Phan.: We think our turn has come--
Sca.: We do.
Phan.: These Englishmen, they must prepare To seek at once their native air.
The King as heretofore, we swear, Shall be beneath our thumb--
Sca.: He shall--
Phan.: Shall be beneath out thumb--
Sca.: He shall.
Both: (with great energy) For this mustn"t be, and this won"t do.
If you"ll back me, then I"ll back you, No, this won"t do, No, this mustn"t be.
With fury deep we burn...
Enter the King.
King: Gentlemen, gentlemen--really! This unseemly display of energy within the Royal precincts is altogether unpardon- able. Pray, what do you complain of?
Scaphio: (furiously) What do we complain of? Why, through the innovations introduced by the Flowers of Progress all our harmless schemes for making a provision for our old age are ruined. Our Matrimonial Agency is at a standstill, our Cheap Sherry business is in bankruptcy, our Army Clothing contracts are paralyzed, and even our Society paper, the Palace Peeper, is practically defunct!
King: Defunct? Is that so? Dear, dear, I am truly sorry.