No. 12: FINALE OF ACT I.

MIDI file Karaoke file

ERLING and TORTENSSEN.

Come hither, every one, Come hither, all! Let every mother’s son Obey our call! Come hither in your might, In stern parade, And learn the deadly slight Upon you played! During this the Chorus, CHRISTINA, HAROLD, and BLANCA have entered.

ALL.

Why, who the deuce has dared to play A trick, at Elsinore, to-day? Come, tell us quick, This scurvy trick, Why, who the deuce has dared to play?

ERLING (passionately).

  That statue — who commissioned it?

ALL.

The King!

ERLING.

And on that spot positioned it?

ALL.

The King!

ERLING.

Court sculptor who created me, And told me rank awaited me, Which pleased you and elated me?

ALL.

The King!

TORTENSSEN (furiously).

  Who raised me from obscurity?

ALL.

The King!

TORTENSSEN.

And gilded my futurity?

ALL.

The King!

TORTENSSEN.

Physician who appointed me? With baron’s rank anointed me, ’Till foolish pride disjointed me?

ALL.

The King! The King he did and said it all, He did this noble thing! Give him the fame and credit all, His Majesty the King! God save the King! Hurrah!

ERLING.

A lie! No monarch honoured you by honouring us, Or for that cursed statue gave commission; No monarch with perception generous, Appointed Tortenssen his Court Physician! No royal sunlight on our labours shone — You have been cheated, tricked, and played upon!

ALL.

We have been cheated, tricked, and played upon! Oh, shame! Who is the culprit? We’ve no time for trifling! With choking indignation we are stifling!

Enter DAME CORTLANDT in a towering rage, followed by SYNDIC, who tries in vain to appease her.

DAME.

The truth’s revealed, the mystery dispelled — The culprit is — the Governor Griffenfeld! He doesn’t confine to lowly folks His base barbarian dealings, But dares to play his practical jokes Upon my tenderest feelings! Assuming that for you I glowed (to SYNDIC), You Syndical mountebank, you! He — (symptoms of an approaching outbreak)

ALL.

Pray be careful or you’ll explode!

DAME (with an effort).

I’m keeping it under, thank you!

ALL.

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! She’s keeping it under, thank you!

DAME.

Henceforth I vow with hate intense To crush that Governor pagan! Whatever the cost, at my expense, We’ll go to Copenhagen. There to the Regent we’ll complain, In volleys of vocal thunder — (further symptoms of outbreak)

ALL.

Now steady, or you’ll be off again!

DAME (with effort).

All right, I’m keeping it under!

ALL.

Brava! Brava! Brava! Brava! Dame Cortlandt’s keeping it under!

Enter GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA.

ALL.

Ah! Here’s the monkey undiscerning, Who, all thought of mercy spurning, Dares with men of light and learning Thus to play the pranksome fool! Launch at him our loudest thunder — Tear him limb from limb asunder! Long enough we’ve suffered under His detested monkey-rule!

GRIFFENFELD.

What means this uproar which my comfort shatters! Explain, I beg! Are ye March hares, or hatters?

DAME.

No madmen we — but matters not to mince, To Copenhagen we depart, With rage and fury in each heart, To interview our sovereign Regent-Prince!

GRIFFENFELD.

The Regent?

ALL.

Aye, the Regent!

GRIFFENFELD.

Not so loud. Be pacified, I beg, excited crowd! This state of indignation do not foment — The Regent’s here, in Elsinore, at this moment!

ALL.

The Regent here!

GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, THORA.

  In Elsinore, at this moment!

TRIO — GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA.

After a travelling troublesome, Quit of the Court and the quality — Weary of bobbery bubblesome — Weary of party and polity, Full of a jolly jocosity, Out of the pale of propriety — Hating the pride of pomposity — Sick of that sort of society, Regent is resting his brain Here in our little domain! (repeat.) Seeking a time of tranquility, Free from all fear of formality, Finds it in jolly gentility Here in this lovely locality — Doffing all duty and dignity (Follies that fidget him fearfully), Vows that our merry malignity Favours his chirruping cheerfully — Vows he’ll again and again Visit our little domain! (repeat.)

ALL.

Seeking a time of tranquility, etc. GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA dancing through this.

CHORUS.

This is our chance to explain — Tell of our sorrow and pain!

SEXTET — ERLING, TORTENSSEN, SYNDIC, HAROLD, CHRISTINA, and DAME CORTLANDT.

HAROLD.

This is our opportunity — It may not come again.

GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, (in affected terror).

  No, no!

ERLING.

To lay bare with impunity Our misery and pain.

GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, (in affected terror).

  No, no!

TORTENSSEN.

We’ll beg, with due severity, His speedy punishment.

GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, (in affected terror).

  No, no!

THE SIX.

And that with all celerity To gaol he might be sent!

GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, (in affected terror).

  No, no! No, no! not that; avert our doom! Why it would be our ruin! Can you resist when we assume This attitude to sue in? (kneeling — repeat.)

ALL.

Yes, yes! Ha, ha! Yes, yes! Ha, ha! We can resist though you assume That attitude to sue in! (laughing derisively at GRIFFENFELD and daughters). Ha, ha! Ha, ha! etc.

GRIFFENFELD and daughters (as if crying).

Ho, ho! Ho, ho! etc.

GRIFFENFELD.

Oh, pray have mercy! Do not pour Upon a hapless Governor, Who treads a rather devious path, The vials of your mighty wrath!

NANNA and THORA.

Oh, pray you be magnanimous ’Twill ruin him and ruin us — In sheer good humour it was done — Oh, haven’t you any sense of fun?

ALL THREE.

Oh, haven’t you any sense of fun? Oh, haven’t you any sense of fun?

THORA.

Ah, don’t be hard on one whose passion ruling Was, from his birth, a taste for April fooling!

ALL THREE.

Ah, don’t be hard, etc.

ERLING and TORTENSSEN.

Go, traitress, go! On such a foe I scorn the vain appeal. With rage I fume. Your father’s doom This day the Prince shall seal. In vain you cry, And sob and sigh, In vain you kneel, I say!

GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA.

  Oh, pity me, pity me, pity me, pity me, Pity me, pity me, pray!

CHORUS.

Of all that’s mean And vile, I ween, In an underhanded way, Epitome-pitome-pitome-pitome Pitome-pitome they!

ENSEMBLE.

ALL.

To the Regent, away!

GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA.

  Tol-the-rol-the-rol-lay!

ALL.

To the Regent, away!

GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA.

  Tol-the-rol-the-rol-lay!

ALL.

To the Regent — the Regent — the Regent, away!

GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA.

  Tol-the-rol, lol-the rol, lol-the-rol-lay!

All rush off furiously, except CHRISTINA, who remains laughing upstage, and GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA, who sink, exhausted with laughter, on seat at foot of statue.