The Sorcerer: Act I

By William Schwenck Gilbert

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, an Elderly Baronet

Alexis, of the Grenadier Guards—His Son

Dr. Daly, Vicar of Ploverleigh

John Wellington Wells, of J. W. Wells & Co., Family Sorcerers

Lady Sangazure, a Lady of Ancient Lineage

Aline, Her Daughter—betrothed to Alexis

Mrs. Partlet, a Pew-Opener

Constance, her Daughter

Chorus of Villagers

      ACT I — Grounds of Sir Marmaduke's Mansion, Mid-day

SCENE — Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's Elizabethan Mansion, mid-day.

                     CHORUS OF VILLAGERS

                      Ring forth, ye bells,

                            With clarion sound—

                      Forget your knells,

                            For joys abound.

                      Forget your notes

                            Of mournful lay,

                      And from your throats

                            Pour joy to-day.

     For to-day young Alexis—young Alexis Pointdextre

           Is betrothed to Aline—to Aline Sangazure,

     And that pride of his sex is—of his sex is to be next her

           At the feast on the green—on the green, oh, be sure!

                      Ring forth, ye bells etc.

                                               (Exeunt the men into house.)

(Enter Mrs. Partlet with Constance, her daughter)

                          RECITATIVE

MRS. P.     Constance, my daughter, why this strange depression?

           The village rings with seasonable joy,

           Because the young and amiable Alexis,

           Heir to the great Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre,

           Is plighted to Aline, the only daughter

           Of Annabella, Lady Sangazure.

           You, you alone are sad and out of spirits;

           What is the reason?  Speak, my daughter, speak!

CONST.      Oh, mother, do not ask!  If my complexion

           From red to white should change in quick succession,

           And then from white to red, oh, take no notice!

           If my poor limbs should tremble with emotion,

           Pay no attention, mother—it is nothing!

           If long and deep-drawn sighs I chance to utter,

           Oh, heed them not, their cause must ne'er be known!

Mrs. Partlet motions to Chorus to leave her with Constance.  Exeunt

     ladies of Chorus.

                       ARIA—CONSTANCE

                 When he is here,

                      I sigh with pleasure—

                 When he is gone,

                      I sigh with grief.

                 My hopeless fear

                      No soul can measure—

                 His love alone

                      Can give my aching heart relief!

                 When he is cold,

                      I weep for sorrow—

                 When he is kind,

                      I weep for joy.

                 My grief untold

                      Knows no to-morrow—

                 My woe can find

                      No hope, no solace, no alloy!

MRS. P.     Come, tell me all about it!  Do not fear—

           I, too, have loved; but that was long ago!

           Who is the object of your young affections?

CONST.      Hush, mother!  He is here!  (Looking off)

     Enter Dr. Daly.  He is pensive and does not see them

MRS. P.     (amazed)         Our reverend vicar!

CONST.      Oh, pity me, my heart is almost broken!

MRS. P.     My child, be comforted.  To such an union

           I shall not offer any opposition.

           Take him—he's yours!  May you and he be happy!

CONST.      But, mother dear, he is not yours to give!

MRS. P.     That's true, indeed!

CONST.                       He might object!

MRS. P.                                        He might.

           But come—take heart—I'll probe him on the subject.

           Be comforted—leave this affair to me.

                                                    (They withdraw.)

                     RECITATIVE—DR. DALY

     The air is charged with amatory numbers—

           Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays.

     Peace, peace, old heart!  Why waken from its slumbers

           The aching memory of the old, old days?

BALLAD

     Time was when Love and I were well acquainted.

           Time was when we walked ever hand in hand.

     A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted,

           None better-loved than I in all the land!

     Time was, when maidens of the noblest station,

           Forsaking even military men,

     Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration—

           Ah me, I was a fair young curate then!

     Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled;

           Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear;

     Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled;

           And when I coughed all thought the end was near!

     I had no care—no jealous doubts hung o'er me—

           For I was loved beyond all other men.

     Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me—

           Ah me, I was a pale young curate them!

(At the conclusion of the ballad, Mrs. Partlet comes forward with

Constance.)

     MRS. P.  Good day, reverend sir.

     DR. D.  Ah, good Mrs. Partlet, I am glad to see you.  And

your little daughter, Constance!  Why, she is quite a little

woman, I declare!

     CONST. (aside)  Oh, mother, I cannot speak to him!

     MRS. P.  Yes, reverend sir, she is nearly eighteen, and as

good a girl as ever stepped.  (Aside to Dr. Daly)  Ah, sir, I'm

afraid I shall soon lose her!

     DR. D. (aside to Mrs. Partlet)  Dear me, you pain me very

much.  Is she delicate?

     MRS. P.  Oh no, sir—I don't mean that—but young girls look

to get married.

     DR. D.  Oh, I take you.  To be sure.  But there's plenty of

time for that.  Four or five years hence, Mrs. Partlet, four or

five years hence.  But when the time does come, I shall have much

pleasure in marrying her myself—

     CONST. (aside)  Oh, mother!

     DR. D.  To some strapping young fellow in her own rank of

life.

     CONST. (in tears)  He does not love me!

     MRS. P.  I have often wondered, reverend sir (if you'll

excuse the liberty), that you have never married.

     DR. D. (aside)  Be still, my fluttering heart!

     MRS. P.  A clergyman's wife does so much good in a village.

Besides that, you are not as young as you were, and before very

long you will want somebody to nurse you, and look after your

little comforts.

     DR. D.  Mrs. Partlet, there is much truth in what you say.

I am indeed getting on in years, and a helpmate would cheer my

declining days.  Time was when it might have been; but I have

left it too long—I am an old fogy, now, am I not, my dear?  (to

Constance)—a very old fogy, indeed.  Ha! ha!  No, Mrs. Partlet,

my mind is quite made up.  I shall live and die a solitary old

bachelor.

     CONST.  Oh, mother, mother!  (Sobs on Mrs. Partlet's bosom)

     MRS. P.  Come, come, dear one, don't fret.  At a more

fitting time we will try again—we will try again.

                                       (Exeunt Mrs. Partlet and Constance.)

     DR. D.  (looking after them)  Poor little girl!  I'm afraid

she has something on her mind.  She is rather comely.  Time was

when this old heart would have throbbed in double-time at the

sight of such a fairy form!  But tush!  I am puling!  Here comes

the young Alexis with his proud and happy father.  Let me dry

this tell-tale tear!

Enter Sir Marmaduke and Alexis

                          RECITATIVE

DR. D.      Sir Marmaduke—my dear young friend, Alexis—

           On this most happy, most auspicious plighting—

           Permit me as a true old friend to tender

           My best, my very best congratulations!

SIR M.      Sir, you are most obleeging!

ALEXIS.                                  Dr. Daly

           My dear old tutor, and my valued pastor,

           I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

                                                     (Spoken through music)

DR. D.      May fortune bless you! may the middle distance

           Of your young life be pleasant as the foreground—

           The joyous foreground! and, when you have reached it,

           May that which now is the far-off horizon

           (But which will then become the middle distance),

           In fruitful promise be exceeded only

           By that which will have opened, in the meantime,

           Into a new and glorious horizon!

SIR M.      Dear Sir, that is an excellent example

           Of an old school of stately compliment

           To which I have, through life, been much addicted.

           Will you obleege me with a copy of it,

           In clerkly manuscript, that I myself

           May use it on appropriate occasions?

DR. D.      Sir, you shall have a fairly-written copy

           Ere Sol has sunk into his western slumbers!

                                                            (Exit Dr. Daly)

     SIR M.  (to Alexis, who is in a reverie)  Come, come, my

son—your fiancee will be here in five minutes.  Rouse yourself

to receive her.

     ALEXIS.  Oh rapture!

     SIR M.  Yes, you are a fortunate young fellow, and I will

not disguise from you that this union with the House of Sangazure

realizes my fondest wishes.  Aline is rich, and she comes of a

sufficiently old family, for she is the seven thousand and

thirty-seventh in direct descent from Helen of Troy.  True, there

was a blot on the escutcheon of that lady—that affair with

Paris—but where is the family, other than my own, in which there

is no flaw?  You are a lucky fellow, sir—a very lucky fellow!

     ALEXIS.  Father, I am welling over with limpid joy!  No

sicklying taint of sorrow overlies the lucid lake of liquid love,

upon which, hand in hand, Aline and I are to float into eternity!

     SIR M.  Alexis, I desire that of your love for this young

lady you do not speak so openly.  You are always singing ballads

in praise of her beauty, and you expect the very menials who wait

behind your chair to chorus your ecstasies.  It is not delicate.

     ALEXIS.  Father, a man who loves as I love—

     SIR M.  Pooh pooh, sir! fifty years ago I madly loved your

future mother-in-law, the Lady Sangazure, and I have reason to

believe that she returned my love.  But were we guilty of the

indelicacy of publicly rushing into each other's arms,

exclaiming—

           "Oh, my adored one!" "Beloved boy!"

           "Ecstatic rapture!" "Unmingled joy!"

which seems to be the modern fashion of love-making?  No! it was

"Madam, I trust you are in the enjoyment of good health"—"Sir,

you are vastly polite, I protest I am mighty well"—and so forth.

Much more delicate—much more respectful.  But see—Aline

approaches—let us retire, that she may compose herself for the

interesting ceremony in which she is to play so important a part.

                                         (Exeunt Sir Marmaduke and Alexis.)

(Enter Aline on terrace, preceded by Chorus of Girls.)

                       CHORUS OF GIRLS

                      With heart and with voice

                            Let us welcome this mating:

                      To the youth of her choice,

                            With a heart palpitating,

                                  Comes the lovely Aline!

                      May their love never cloy!

                            May their bliss be unbounded!

                      With a halo of joy

                            May their lives be surrounded!

                                  Heaven bless our Aline!

                      RECITATIVE—ALINE.

     My kindly friends, I thank you for this greeting

     And as you wish me every earthly joy,

     I trust your wishes may have quick fulfillment!

                         ARIA—ALINE.

                      Oh, happy young heart!

                            Comes thy young lord a-wooing

                      With joy in his eyes,

                            And pride in his breast—

                      Make much of thy prize,

                            For he is the best

                      That ever came a-suing.

                            Yet—yet we must part,

                                              Young heart!

                            Yet—yet we must part!

                      Oh, merry young heart,

                            Bright are the days of thy wooing!

                      But happier far

                            The days untried—

                      No sorrow can mar,

                            When love has tied

                      The knot there's no undoing.

                            Then, never to part,

                                              Young heart!

                            Then, never to part!

Enter Lady Sangazure

                     RECITATIVE—LADY S.

           My child, I join in these congratulations:

           Heed not the tear that dims this aged eye!

           Old memories crowd upon me.  Though I sorrow,

           'Tis for myself, Aline, and not for thee!

Enter Alexis, preceded by Chorus of Men

                   CHORUS OF MEN AND WOMEN

                 With heart and with voice

                      Let us welcome this mating;

                 To the maid of his choice,

                      With a heart palpitating,

                            Comes Alexis, the brave!.

(Sir Marmaduke enters.  Lady Sangazure and he exhibit signs of strong

     emotion at the sight of each other which they endeavor to

     repress.  Alexis and Aline rush into each other's arms.)

                          RECITATIVE

ALEXIS.     Oh, my adored one!

ALINE.                 Beloved boy!

ALEXIS.     Ecstatic rapture!

ALINE.                 Unmingled joy!

                                                          (They retire up.)

            DUET—SIR MARMADUKE and LADY SANGAZURE

SIR M.  (with stately courtesy)

           Welcome joy, adieu to sadness!

                 As Aurora gilds the day,

           So those eyes, twin orbs of gladness,

                 Chase the clouds of care away.

           Irresistible incentive

                 Bids me humbly kiss your hand;

           I'm your servant most attentive—

                 Most attentive to command!

(Aside with frantic vehemence)

           Wild with adoration!

           Mad with fascination!

           To indulge my lamentation

                 No occasion do I miss!

           Goaded to distraction

           By maddening inaction,

           I find some satisfaction

                 In apostophe like this:

                 "Sangazure immortal,

                      "Sangazure divine,

                 "Welcome to my portal,

                      "Angel, oh be mine!"

(Aloud with much ceremony)

           Irresistible incentive

                 Bids me humbly kiss your hand;

           I'm your servant most attentive—

                 Most attentive to command!

LADY S.     Sir, I thank you most politely

                 For your grateful courtesee;

           Compliment more true and knightly

                 Never yet was paid to me!

           Chivalry is an ingredient

                 Sadly lacking in our land—

           Sir, I am your most obedient,

                 Most obedient to command!

(Aside and with great vehemence)

           Wild with adoration!

           Mad with fascination!

           To indulge my lamentation

                 No occasion do I miss!

           Goaded to distraction

           By maddening inaction,

           I find some satisfaction

                 In apostophe like this:

                 "Marmaduke immortal,

                      "Marmaduke divine,

                 "Take me to thy portal,

                      "Loved one, oh be mine!"

(Aloud with much ceremony)

           Chivalry is an ingredient

                 Sadly lacking in our land;

           Sir, I am your most obedient,

                 Most obedient to command!

(During this the Notary has entered, with marriage contract.)

                      RECITATIVE—NOTARY

     All is prepared for sealing and for signing,

           The contract has been drafted as agreed;

     Approach the table, oh, ye lovers pining,

           With hand and seal come execute the deed!

(Alexis and Aline advance and sign, Alexis supported by Sir Marmaduke,

     Aline by her Mother.)

                            CHORUS

           See they sign, without a quiver, it—

                 Then to seal proceed.

           They deliver it—they deliver it

                 As their Act and Deed!

ALEXIS.                I deliver it—I deliver it

                            As my Act and Deed!.

ALINE.                 I deliver it—I deliver it.

                            As my Act and Deed!

CHORUS.           With heart and with voice

                 Let us welcome this mating;

           Leave them here to rejoice,

                 With true love palpitating,

                      Alexis the brave,

                      And the lovely Aline!

                                         (Exeunt all but Alexis and Aline.)

     ALEXIS.  At last we are alone!  My darling, you are now

irrevocably betrothed to me.  Are you not very, very happy?

     ALINE.  Oh, Alexis, can you doubt it?  Do I not love you

beyond all on earth, and am I not beloved in return?  Is not true

love, faithfully given and faithfully returned, the source of

every earthly joy?

     ALEXIS.  Of that there can be no doubt.  Oh, that the world

could be persuaded of the truth of that maxim!  Oh, that the

world would break down the artificial barriers of rank, wealth,

education, age, beauty, habits, taste, and temper, and recognize

the glorious principle, that in marriage alone is to be found the

panacea for every ill!

     ALINE.  Continue to preach that sweet doctrine, and you will

succeed, oh, evangel of true happiness!

     ALEXIS.  I hope so, but as yet the cause progresses but

slowly.  Still I have made some converts to the principle, that

men and women should be coupled in matrimony without distinction

of rank.  I have lectured on the subject at Mechanics'

Institutes, and the mechanics were unanimous in favour of my

views.  I have preached in workhouses, beershops, and Lunatic

Asylums, and I have been received with enthusiasm.  I have

addressed navvies on the advantages that would accrue to them if

they married wealthy ladies of rank, and not a navvy dissented!

     ALINE.  Noble fellows!  And yet there are those who hold

that the uneducated classes are not open to argument!  And what

do the countesses say?

     ALEXIS.  Why, at present, it can't be denied, the

aristocracy hold aloof.

     ALINE.  Ah, the working man is the true Intelligence after

all!

     ALEXIS.  He is a noble creature when he is quite sober.

Yes, Aline, true happiness comes of true love, and true love

should be independent of external influences.  It should live

upon itself and by itself—in itself love should live for love

alone!

                        BALLAD—ALEXIS

           Love feeds on many kinds of food, I know,

                 Some love for rank, some for duty:

           Some give their hearts away for empty show,

                 And others for youth and beauty.

           To love for money all the world is prone:

                 Some love themselves, and live all lonely:

           Give me the love that loves for love alone—

                 I love that love—I love it only!

           What man for any other joy can thirst,

                 Whose loving wife adores him duly?

           Want, misery, and care may do their worst,

                 If loving woman loves you truly.

           A lover's thoughts are ever with his own—

                 None truly loved is ever lonely:

           Give me the love that loves for love alone—

                 I love that love—I love it only!

     ALINE.  Oh, Alexis, those are noble principles!

     ALEXIS.  Yes, Aline, and I am going to take a desperate step

in support of them.  Have you ever heard of the firm of J. W.

Wells & Co., the old-established Family Sorcerers in St. Mary

Axe?

     ALINE.  I have seen their advertisement.

     ALEXIS.  They have invented a philtre, which, if report may

be believed, is simply infallible.  I intend to distribute it

through the village, and within half-an-hour of my doing so there

will not be an adult in the place who will not have learnt the

secret of pure and lasting happiness.  What do you say to that?

     ALINE.  Well, dear, of course a filter is a very useful

thing in a house; but still I don't quite see that it is the sort

of thing that places its possessor on the very pinnacle of

earthly joy.

     ALEXIS.  Aline, you misunderstand me.  I didn't say a

filter—I said a philtre.

     ALINE (alarmed).  You don't mean a love-potion?

     ALEXIS.  On the contrary—I do mean a love potion.

     ALINE.  Oh, Alexis!  I don't think it would be right.  I

don't indeed.  And then—a real magician!  Oh, it would be

downright wicked.

     ALEXIS.  Aline, is it, or is it not, a laudable object to

steep the whole village up to its lips in love, and to couple

them in matrimony without distinction of age, rank, or fortune?

     ALINE.  Unquestionably, but—

     ALEXIS.  Then unpleasant as it must be to have recourse to

supernatural aid, I must nevertheless pocket my aversion, in

deference to the great and good end I have in view.  (Calling)

Hercules.

(Enter a Page from tent)

     PAGE.  Yes, sir.

     ALEXIS.  Is Mr. Wells there?

     PAGE.  He's in the tent, sir—refreshing.

     ALEXIS.  Ask him to be so good as to step this way.

     PAGE.  Yes, sir.                                           (Exit Page)

     ALINE.  Oh, but, Alexis!  A real Sorcerer!  Oh, I shall be

frightened to death!

     ALEXIS.  I trust my Aline will not yield to fear while the

strong right arm of her Alexis is here to protect her.

     ALINE.  It's nonsense, dear, to talk of your protecting me

with your strong right arm, in face of the fact that this Family

Sorcerer could change me into a guinea-pig before you could turn

round.

     ALEXIS.  He could change you into a guinea-pig, no doubt,

but it is most unlikely that he would take such a liberty.  It's

a most respectable firm, and I am sure he would never be guilty

of so untradesmanlike an act.

(Enter Mr. Wells from tent)

     WELLS.  Good day, sir.  (Aline much terrified.)

     ALEXIS.  Good day—I believe you are a Sorcerer.

     WELLS.  Yes, sir, we practice Necromancy in all its

branches.  We've a choice assortment of wishing-caps,

divining-rods, amulets, charms, and counter-charms.  We can cast

you a nativity at a low figure, and we have a horoscope at

three-and-six that we can guarantee.  Our Abudah chests, each

containing a patent Hag who comes out and prophesies disasters,

with spring complete, are strongly recommended.  Our Aladdin

lamps are very chaste, and our Prophetic Tablets, foretelling

everything—from a change of Ministry down to a rise in

Unified—are much enquired for.  Our penny Curse—one of the

cheapest things in the trade—is considered infallible.  We have

some very superior Blessings, too, but they're very little asked

for.  We've only sold one since Christmas—to a gentleman who

bought it to send to his mother-in-law—but it turned out that he

was afflicted in the head, and it's been returned on our hands.

But our sale of penny Curses, especially on Saturday nights, is

tremendous.  We can't turn 'em out fast enough.

                       SONG—MR. WELLS

           Oh! my name is John Wellington Wells,

           I'm a dealer in magic and spells,

                 In blessings and curses

                 And ever-filled purses,

           In prophecies, witches, and knells.

           If you want a proud foe to "make tracks"—

           If you'd melt a rich uncle in wax—

                 You've but to look in

                 On the resident Djinn,

           Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

           We've a first-class assortment of magic;

                 And for raising a posthumous shade

           With effects that are comic or tragic,

                 There's no cheaper house in the trade.

           Love-philtre—we've quantities of it;

                 And for knowledge if any one burns,

           We keep an extremely small prophet, a prophet

                 Who brings us unbounded returns:

                 For he can prophesy

                 With a wink of his eye,

                 Peep with security

                 Into futurity,

                 Sum up your history,

                 Clear up a mystery,

                 Humour proclivity

                 For a nativity—for a nativity;

                 With mirrors so magical,

                 Tetrapods tragical,

                 Bogies spectacular,

                 Answers oracular,

                 Facts astronomical,

                 Solemn or comical,

                 And, if you want it, he

                 Makes a reduction on taking a quantity!

                            Oh!

                 If any one anything lacks,

                 He'll find it all ready in stacks,

                      If he'll only look in

                      On the resident Djinn,

                 Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

                 He can raise you hosts

                                        Of ghosts,

                 And that without reflectors;

                      And creepy things

                                        With wings,

                 And gaunt and grisly spectres.

                 He can fill you crowds

                                        Of shrouds,

                 And horrify you vastly;

                      He can rack your brains

                                        With chains,

                 And gibberings grim and ghastly.

                      And then, if you plan it, he

                      Changes organity,

                      With an urbanity,

                      Full of Satanity,

                      Vexes humanity

                      With an inanity

                      Fatal to vanity—

                 Driving your foes to the verge of insanity!

                      Barring tautology,

                      In demonology,

                      'Lectro-biology,

                      Mystic nosology,

                      Spirit philology,

                      High-class astrology,

                      Such is his knowledge, he

                 Isn't the man to require an apology!

                                        Oh!

           My name is John Wellington Wells,

           I'm a dealer in magic and spells,

                 In blessings and curses

                 And ever-filled purses,

           In prophecies, witches, and knells.

           If any one anything lacks,

           He'll find it all ready in stacks,

                 If he'll only look in

                 On the resident Djinn,

           Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

     ALEXIS.  I have sent for you to consult you on a very

important matter.  I believe you advertise a Patent Oxy-Hydrogen

Love-at-first-sight Philtre?

     WELLS.  Sir, it is our leading article.  (Producing a

phial.)

     ALEXIS.  Now I want to know if you can confidently guarantee

it as possessing all the qualities you claim for it in your

advertisement?

     WELLS.  Sir, we are not in the habit of puffing our goods.  

Ours is an old-established house with a large family connection,

and every assurance held out in the advertisement is fully

realized.  (Hurt)

     ALINE.  (aside)  Oh, Alexis, don't offend him!  He'll change

us into something dreadful—I know he will!

     ALEXIS.  I am anxious from purely philanthropical motives to

distribute this philtre, secretly, among the inhabitants of this

village.  I shall of course require a quantity.  How do you sell

it?

     WELLS.  In buying a quantity, sir, we should strongly advise

your taking it in the wood, and drawing it off as you happen to

want it.  We have it in four-and-a-half and nine gallon

casks—also in pipes and hogsheads for laying down, and we deduct

10 per cent from prompt cash.

     ALEXIS.  I should mention that I am a Member of the Army and

Navy Stores.

     WELLS.  In that case we deduct 25 percent.

     ALEXIS.  Aline, the villagers will assemble to carouse in a

few minutes.  Go and fetch the tea-pot.

     ALINE.  But, Alexis—

     ALEXIS.  My dear, you must obey me, if you please.  Go and

fetch the teapot.

     ALINE (going). I'm sure Dr. Daly would disapprove of it!

                                                              (Exit Aline.)

     ALEXIS.  And how soon does it take effect?

     WELLS.  In twelve hours.  Whoever drinks of it loses

consciousness for that period, and on waking falls in love, as a

matter of course, with the first lady he meets who has also

tasted it, and his affection is at once returned.  One trial will

prove the fact.

Enter Aline with large tea-pot

     ALEXIS.  Good: then, Mr. Wells, I shall feel obliged if you

will at once pour as much philtre into this teapot as will

suffice to affect the whole village.

     ALINE.  But bless me, Alexis, many of the villagers are

married people!

     WELLS.  Madam, this philtre is compounded on the strictest

principles.  On married people it has no effect whatever.  But

are you quite sure that you have nerve enough to carry you

through the fearful ordeal?

     ALEXIS.  In the good cause I fear nothing.

     WELLS.  Very good, then, we will proceed at once to the

Incantation.

The stage grows dark.

                         INCANTATION

WELLS.            Sprites of earth and air—

                      Fiends of flame and fire—

                            Demon souls,

                            Come here in shoals,

                 This dreaded deed inspire!

                      Appear, appear, appear.

MALE VOICES.           Good master, we are here!

WELLS.            Noisome hags of night—

                      Imps of deadly shade—

                            Pallid ghosts,

                            Arise in hosts,

                 And lend me all your aid.

                      Appear, appear, appear!

FEMALE VOICES.         Good master, we are here!

ALEXIS (aside).        Hark, they assemble,

                            These fiends of the night!

ALINE (aside).         Oh Alexis, I tremble,

                            Seek safety in flight!

                         ARIA - ALINE

                 Let us fly to a far-off land,

                      Where peace and plenty dwell—

                 Where the sigh of the silver strand

                      Is echoed in every shell

                 To the joy that land will give,

                      On the wings of Love we'll fly;

                 In innocence, there to live—

                      In innocence there to die!

                      CHORUS OF SPIRITS.

                      Too late—too late

                            It may not be!

                      That happy fate

                            Is not for (me/thee)!

                  ALEXIS, ALINE, and MR. W.

                      Too late—too late,

                            That may not be!

                      That happy fate,

                            Is not for thee!

                                 MR. WELLS

           Now shrivelled hags, with poison bags,

                 Discharge your loathsome loads!

           Spit flame and fire, unholy choir!

                 Belch forth your venom, toads!

           Ye demons fell, with yelp and yell,

                 Shed curses far afield—

           Ye fiends of night, your filthy blight

                 In noisome plenty yield!

WELLS  (pouring phial into tea-pot—flash)

                            Number One!

CHORUS                             It is done!

WELLS  (same business)       Number Two! (flash)

CHORUS                             One too few!

WELLS                        Number Three! (flash)

CHORUS                             Set us free!

                            Set us free-our work is done

                                  Ha! ha! ha!

                            Set us free—our course is run!

                                  Ha! ha! ha!

                   ALINE AND ALEXIS (aside)

                 Let us fly to a far-off land,

                      Where peace and plenty dwell—

                 Where the sigh of the silver strand

                      Is echoed in every shell.

                      CHORUS OF FIENDS.

                 Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

(Stage grows light.  Mr. Wells beckons villagers.  Enter villagers

     and all the dramatis personae, dancing joyously.  Mrs.

     Partlet and Mr. Wells then distribute tea-cups.)

                           CHORUS.

                 Now to the banquet we press;

                      Now for the eggs, the ham;

                 Now for the mustard and cress,

                      Now for the strawberry jam!

                 Now for the tea of our host,

                      Now for the rollicking bun,

                 Now for the muffin and toast,

                      Now for the gay Sally Lunn!

WOMEN.      The eggs and the ham, and the strawberry jam!

MEN.        The rollicking bun, and the gay Sally Lunn!

                 The rollicking, rollicking bun!

                  RECITATIVE—SIR MARMADUKE

           Be happy all—the feast is spread before ye;

                 Fear nothing, but enjoy yourselves, I pray!

           Eat, aye, and drink—be merry, I implore ye,

                 For once let thoughtless Folly rule the day.

                       TEA-CUP BRINDISI

                 Eat, drink, and be gay,

                      Banish all worry and sorrow,

                 Laugh gaily to-day,

                      Weep, if you're sorry, to-morrow!

                 Come, pass the cup around—

                      I will go bail for the liquor;

                 It's strong, I'll be bound,

                      For it was brewed by the vicar!

CHORUS.

                      None so knowing as he

                      At brewing a jorum of tea,

                            Ha! ha!

                      A pretty stiff jorum of tea.

           TRIO—WELLS, ALINE, and ALEXIS. (aside)

                      See—see—they drink—

                            All thoughts unheeding,

                      The tea-cups clink,

                            They are exceeding!

                      Their hearts will melt

                            In half-an-hour—

                      Then will be felt

                            The potions power!

(During this verse Constance has brought a small tea-pot, kettle,

     caddy, and cosy to Dr. Daly.  He makes tea scientifically.)

       BRINDISI, 2nd Verse—DR. DALY (with the tea-pot)

                 Pain, trouble, and care,

                      Misery, heart-ache, and worry,

                 Quick, out of your lair!

                      Get you gone in a hurry!

                 Toil, sorrow, and plot,

                      Fly away quicker and quicker—

                 Three spoons in the pot—

                      That is the brew of your vicar!

                                  CHORUS

                 None so cunning as he

                 At brewing a jorum of tea,

                      Ha! ha!

                 A pretty stiff jorum of tea!

              ENSEMBLE—ALEXIS and ALINE (aside)

           Oh love, true love—unworldly, abiding!

                 Source of all pleasure—true fountain of joy,—

           Oh love, true love—divinely confiding,

                 Exquisite treasure that knows no alloy,—

           Oh love, true love, rich harvest of gladness,

                 Peace-bearing tillage—great garner of bliss,—

           Oh love, true love, look down on our sadness —

                 Dwell in this village—oh, hear us in this!

(It becomes evident by the strange conduct of the characters that

     the charm is working.  All rub their eyes, and stagger about

     the stage as if under the influence of a narcotic.)

     TUTTI (aside)                   ALEXIS, MR. WELLS and ALINE

Oh, marvellous illusion!           A marvellous illusion!

     Oh, terrible surprise!             A terrible surprise

What is this strange confusion     Excites a strange confusion

     That veils my aching eyes?         Within their aching eyes—

I must regain my senses,           They must regain their senses,

     Restoring Reason's law,            Restoring Reason's law,

Or fearful inferences              Or fearful inferences

     Society will draw!                       Society will draw!

(Those who have partaken of the philtre struggle in vain against

     its effects, and, at the end of the chorus, fall insensible

     on the stage.)