the main-deck.
DICK. Ah, it's a queer world!
RALPH. Dick Deadeye, I have no desire to press hardly on you,
but such
a revolutionary sentiment is enough to make an honest sailor
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
RECITATIVE
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—CAPTAIN
CAPT. I am the Captain of the Pinafore;
ALL. And a right good captain, tool
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,
And ship a selvagee;
I am never known to quail
At the furry 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 seal
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 content.
CAPT. You're exceedingly polite,
And I think it only right
To return the compliment.
ALL. We're exceedingly polite,
And he thinks it's 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]
Enter LITTLE BUTTERCUP
RECITATIVE
BUT. 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, I'm sad and sorry—
My daughter, Josephine, the fairest flower
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. (looking after her). A plump and pleasing person!
[Exit.
Enter JOSEPHINE, twining some flowers which she carries in a
small
basket
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—venerate 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.
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 tenderly 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