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No. 4: Chorus, with Solos
"In a doleful train"
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Bunthorne enters, followed by Maidens, two and two, singing and playing on harps as before. He is composing a poem, and quite absorbed. He sees no one, but walks across the stage, followed by Maidens. They take no notice of Dragoons - to the surprise and indignation of those Officers.
| Maidens. |
| In a doleful train Two and two we walk all day - For we love in vain! None so sorrowful as they Who can only sigh and say, Woe is me, alackaday! Woe is me, alackaday! |
| Dragoons. |
| Now is not this ridiculous, and is not this
preposterous? A thorough-paced absurdity - explain it if you can. Instead of rushing eagerly to cherish us and foster us, They all prefer this melancholy literary man. Instead of slyly peering at us, Casting looks endearing at us, Blushing at us, flushing at us, flirting with a fan; They're actually sneering at us, fleering at us, jeering at us! Pretty sort of treatment for a military man! They're actually sneering at us, fleering at us, jeering at us! Pretty sort of treatment for a military man! |
Angela.
Mystic poet, hear our prayer, Maidens. Yes, we die for love of thee - |
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Bunthorne. (aside, slyly) Though my book I seem to scan Dragoons. (to each other) He hears plainly all they say, |
| Saphir. |
| Though so excellently wise, For a moment mortal be, Deign to raise thy purple eyes From thy heart-drawn poesy. Twenty love-sick maidens see - Each is kneeling on her knee! |
| Maidens. (kneeling) |
| Twenty love-sick maidens see- Each is kneeling on her knee! |
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Bunthorne. (aside) Though, as I remarked before, Dragoons. (to each other) Round the corner he can see Now is not this ridiculous, and is not this preposterous? |
ENSEMBLE.
| Maidens. | Dragoons. |
| In a doleful train | Now is not this ridiculous, and is not this preposterous? |
| Two and two we walk all day, | A thorough-paced absurdity, explain it if you can. |
| For we love in vain! | Instead of rushing eagerly to cherish us and foster us, |
| None so sorrowful as they | They all prefer this melancholy literary man. |
| Who can | Instead of slyly peering at us, |
| only | Casting looks endearing at us, |
| sigh and say, | Blushing at us, flushing at us, flirting with a fan; |
| Woe is me, | They're actually sneering at us, fleering at us, jeering at us! |
| Alack-a-day! | Pretty sort of treatment for a military man! |
| Woe is me, | They're actually sneering at us, fleering at us, jeering at us! |
| Alack-a-day! | Pretty sort of treatment for a military man! |
| Twenty love-sick maidens we, | Now is not this ridiculous, and is not this preposterous? |
| And we | They all prefer this melancholy literary man. |
| die for love of | Now is not this ridiculous, and is not this preposterous? |
| thee! | They all prefer this melancholy, |
| Yes, we die | melancholy literary man. |
| for love of thee! | Now is not this ridiculous, and is not this preposterous? |
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Page Created 25 January, 2005