Arthur Sullivan

The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan


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abolish—

       We don't mean to insist upon unnecessary polish—

       And, on the whole, I rather think you'll find our rule

       tollolish!

       ALL. Sing hey, the jolly jinks of Pfennig Halbpfennig!

       JULIA. But stay—your new-made Court

       Without a courtly coat is—

       We shall require

       Some Court attire,

       And at a moment's notice.

       In clothes of common sort

       Your courtiers must not grovel—

       Your new noblesse

       Must have a dress

       Original and novel!

       LUD. Old Athens we'll exhume!

       The necessary dresses,

       Correct and true

       And all brand-new,

       The company possesses:

       Henceforth our Court costume

       Shall live in song and story,

       For we'll upraise

       The dead old days

       Of Athens in her glory!

       ALL. Yes, let's upraise

       The dead old days

       Of Athens in her glory!

       ALL. Agreed! Agreed!

       For this will be a jolly Court for little and for big! etc

       (They carry LUDWIG round stage and deposit him on the ironwork of

       well. JULIA stands by him, and the rest group round them.)

       END OF ACT I.

       Table of Contents

      (THE NEXT MORNING.)

       SCENE.—Entrance Hall of the Grand Ducal Palace.

       Enter a procession of the members of the theatrical company (now

       dressed in the costumes of Troilus and Cressida), carrying

       garlands, playing on pipes, citharae, and cymbals, and

       heralding the return of LUDWIG and JULIA from the marriage

       ceremony, which has just taken place.

       CHORUS.

       As before you we defile,

       Eloia! Eloia!

       Pray you, gentles, do not smile

       If we shout, in classic style,

       Eloia!

       Ludwig and his Julia true

       Wedded are each other to—

       So we sing, till all is blue,

       Eloia! Eloia!

       Opoponax! Eloia!

       Wreaths of bay and ivy twine,

       Eloia! Eloia!

       Fill the bowl with Lesbian wine,

       And to revelry incline—

       Eloia!

       For as gaily we pass on

       Probably we shall, anon,

       Sing a Diergeticon—

       Eloia! Eloia!

       Opoponax! Eloia!

       RECIT.—LUDWIG.

       Your loyalty our Ducal heartstrings touches:

       Allow me to present your new Grand Duchess.

       Should she offend, you'll graciously excuse her—

       And kindly recollect I didn't choose her!

       SONG—LUDWIG.

       At the outset I may mention it's my sovereign intention

       To revive the classic memories of Athens at its best,

       For the company possesses all the necessary dresses

       And a course of quiet cramming will supply us with the

       rest.

       We've a choir hyporchematic (that is, ballet-operatic)

       Who respond to the choreut of that cultivated age,

       And our clever chorus-master, all but captious criticaster

       Would accept as the choregus of the early Attic stage.

       This return to classic ages is considered in their wages,

       Which are always calculated by the day or by the week—

       And I'll pay 'em (if they'll back me) all in oboloi and drachm,

       Which they'll get (if they prefer it) at the Kalends that

       are Greek!

       (Confidentially to audience.)

       At this juncture I may mention

       That this erudition sham

       Is but classical pretension,

       The result of steady "cram.":

       Periphrastic methods spurning,

       To this audience discerning

       I admit this show of learning

       Is the fruit of steady "cram."!

       CHORUS. Periphrastic methods, etc.

       In the period Socratic every dining-room was Attic

       (Which suggests an architecture of a topsy-turvy kind),

       There they'd satisfy their thirst on a recherche cold {Greek

       word}

       Which is what they called their lunch—and so may you if

       you're inclined.

       As they gradually got on, they'd {four Greek words)

       (Which is Attic for a steady and a conscientious drink).

       But they mixed their wine with water—which I'm sure they didn't

       oughter—

       And we modern Saxons know a trick worth two of that, I

       think!

       Then came rather risky dances (under certain circumstances)

       Which would shock that worthy gentleman, the Licenser of

       Plays,

       Corybantian maniac kick—Dionysiac or Bacchic—

       And the Dithyrambic revels of those undecorous days.

       (Confidentially to audience.)

       And perhaps I'd better mention,

       Lest alarming you I am,

       That it isn't our intention

       To perform a Dithyramb—

       It displays a lot of stocking,

       Which is always very shocking,

       And of course I'm only mocking

       At the prevalence of "cram"!

       CHORUS. It displays a lot, etc.

       Yes, on reconsideration, there are customs of that nation

       Which are not in strict accordance with the habits of our

       day,

       And when I come to codify, their rules I mean to modify,

       Or Mrs. Grundy, p'r'aps, may have a word or two to say.

       For they hadn't macintoshes