Gama: Whene"er I poke Sarcastic joke Replete with malice spiteful, This people mild Politely smil"d, And voted me delightful!
Now, when a wight Sits up all night Ill-natur"d jokes devising, And all his wiles Are met with smiles It"s hard, there"s no disguising!
Ah! Oh, don"t the days seem lank and long When all goes right and nothing goes wrong, And isn"t your life extremely flat With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Chorus: Oh, isn"t your life extremely flat With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Gama: When German bands From music stands Play"d Wagner imperfectly -- I bade them go-- They didn"t say no, But off they went directly!
The organ boys They stopp"d their noise, With readiness surprising, And grinning herds Of hurdy-gurds Retired apologising!
Ah! Oh, don"t the days seem lank and long When all goes right and nothing goes wrong, And isn"t your life extremely flat With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Chorus: Oh, isn"t your life extremely flat With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Gama: I offer"d gold In sums untold To all who"d contradict me-- I said I"d pay A pound a day To any one who kick"d me-- I"ve brib"d with toys Great vulgar boys To utter something spiteful, But, bless you, no!
They would be so Confoundedly politeful!
Ah! In short, these aggravating lads, They tickle my tastes, they feed my fads, They give me this and they give me that, And I"ve nothing whatever to grumble at!
Chorus: Oh, isn"t your life extremely flat With nothing whatever to grumble at!
(Gama Bursts into tears and falls sobbing on a seat.)
Princess: My poor old father! How he must have suffered!
Well, well, I yield!
Gama: (Hysterically) She yields! I"m saved, I"m saved!
(Exit)
Princess: Open the gates -- admit these warriors, Then get you all within the castle walls.
(Exit)
(The gates are opened and the Girls mount the battlements as the Soldiers enter. Arac, Guron and Scynthius also enter.)
Chorus of Soldiers "When anger spreads his wing"
Chorus: When anger spread his wing, And all seems dark as night for it, There"s nothing but to fight for it, But ere you pitch your ring, Select a pretty site for it, (This spot is suited quite for it,) And then you gaily sing, And then you gaily sing:
"Oh I love the jolly rattle Of an orde-al by battle, There"s an end of t.i.ttle-tattle When your enemy is dead.
It"s an arrant molly-coddle Fears a crack upon his noddle And he"s only fit to swaddle In a downy feather-bed!
Ladies: For a Soldiers: Oh, I fight"s love the a jolly kind rattle of Of an thing orde-al by battle That I There"s an love end of to t.i.ttle look tattle, up- When your on, enemy is dead.
So It"s an let arrant us molly- sing, coddle Long Fears a live crack upon the his King, noddle, And his And he"s son only fit to Hi- swaddle, In a la- downy fea- ri-on! ther bed!
(During this, Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril are brought out by the "Daughters of the Plough".
They are still bound and wear the robes.
Enter GAMA.)
Gama: Hilarion! Cyril! Florian! dressed as women!
Is this indeed Hilarion?
Hilar.: Yes, it is!
Gama: Why, you look handsome in your women"s clothes!
Stick to "em! Men"s attire becomes you not!
(To CYRIL and FLORIAN) And you, young ladies, will you please to pray King Hildebrand to set me free again?
Hang on his neck and gaze into his eyes, He never could resist a pretty face!
Hilar.: You dog, you"ll find, though I wear woman"s garb, My sword is long and sharp!
Gama: Hush, pretty one!
Here"s a virago! Here"s a termagant!
If length and sharpness go for anything, You"ll want no sword while you can wag your tongue!
Cyril: What need to waste your words on such as he?
He"s old and crippled.
Gama: Aye, but I"ve three sons, Fine fellows, young and muscular, and brave, They"re well worth talking to! Come, what d"ye say?
Arac: Aye, pretty ones, engage yourselves with us, If three rude warriors affright you not!
Hilar.: Old as you are, I"d wring your shrivelled neck If you were not the Princess Ida"s father.
Gama: If I were not the Princess Ida"s father, And so had not her brothers for my sons, No doubt you"d wring my neck -- in safety too!
Come, come, Hilarion, begin, begin!
Give them no quarter -- they will give you none.
You"ve this advantage over warriors Who kill their country"s enemies for pay,-- You know what you are fighting for -- look there!
(Pointing to Ladies on the battlements)
(Exit Gamma. Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril are led off.)
SONG (Arac, Guron, Scynthius and Chorus) "This Helmet, I Suppose"
Arac: This helmet, I suppose, Was meant to ward off blows, It"s very hot And weighs a lot, As many a guardsman knows, As many a guardsman knows, As many a guardsman knows, As many a guardsman knows, So off, so off that helmet goes.
Others: Yes, yes, yes, So off that helmet goes!
(Giving their helmets to attendants)
Arac: This tight-fitting cuira.s.s Is but a useless ma.s.s, It"s made of steel, And weighs a deal, This tight-fitting cuira.s.s Is but a useless ma.s.s, A man is but an a.s.s Who fights in a cuira.s.s, So off, so off goes that cuira.s.s.
Others: Yes, yes, yes, So off goes that cuira.s.s!
(Removing cuira.s.ses)
Arac: These bra.s.sets, truth to tell, May look uncommon well, But in a fight They"re much too tight, They"re like a lobster sh.e.l.l, They"re like a lobster sh.e.l.l!
Others: Yes, yes, yes, They"re like a lobster sh.e.l.l.
(Removing their bra.s.sets)