Kitabı oku: «Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas», sayfa 4
MODEL MUSIC HALL
DRAMAS
i. – THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER
Dramatis Personæ.
Scene I. —Exterior of the Duke's Mansion in Euston Square by night. On the right, a realistic Moon (by kind permission of Professor Herkomer) is rising slowly behind a lamp-post. On left centre, a practicable pillar-box, and crossing, with real mud. Slow Music, as Miss Jenny Jinksenters, in rags, with broom. Various Characters cross the street, post letters, &c.; Miss Jinksfollows them, begging piteously for a copper, which is invariably refused, whereupon she assails them with choice specimens of street sarcasm – which the Lady may be safely trusted to improvise for herself.
Miss Jenny Jinks (leaning despondently against pillar-box, on which a ray of limelight falls in the opposite direction to the Moon).
Ah, this cruel London, so marble-'arted and vast,
Where all who try to act honest are condemned to fast!
Enter two Burglars, cautiously
First B. (to Miss J. J.) We can put you up to a fake as will be worth your while,
For you seem a sharp, 'andy lad, and just our style!
[They proceed to unfold a scheme to break into the Ducal abode, and offer Miss J. a share of the spoil, if she will allow herself to be put through the pantry window.
Miss J. J. (proudly). I tell yer I won't 'ave nothink to do with it, fur I ain't been used
To sneak into the house of a Dook to whom I 'aven't been introdooced!
Second Burglar (coarsely). Stow that snivel, yer young himp, we don't want none of that bosh!
Miss J. J. (with spirit). You hold your jaw – for, when you opens yer mouth, there ain't much o' yer face left to wash!
[The Burglars retire, baffled, and muttering. Miss J. leans against pillar-box again – but more irresolutely.
I've arf a mind to run after 'em, I 'ave, and tell 'em I'm game to stand in!..
But, ah, – didn't my poor mother say as Burglary was a Sin!
[Duke crosses stage in a hurry; as he pulls out his latchkey, a threepenny-bit falls unregarded, except by the little Sweeper, who pounces eagerly upon it.
What's this? A bit o' good luck at last for a starvin' orfin boy!
What shall I buy? I know – I'll have a cup of cawfy, and a prime saveloy!
Ah, —but it ain't mine– and 'ark … that music up in the air!
[A harp is heard in the flies
Can it be mother a-playin' on the 'arp to warn her boy to beware?
(Awestruck.) There's a angel voice that is sayin' plain (solemnly) "Him as prigs what isn't his'n,
Is sure to be copped some day – and then – his time he will do in prison!"
[Goes resolutely to the door, and knocks – The Duke throws open the portals
Miss J. J. If yer please, Sir, was you aware as you've dropped a thruppenny-bit?
The Duke (after examining the coin.) 'Tis the very piece I have searched for everywhere! You rascal, you've stolen it!
Miss J. J. (bitterly). And that's 'ow a Dook rewards honesty in this world!
[This line is sure of a round of applause
The Duke (calling off). Policeman, I give this lad in charge for a shameless attempt to rob,
Enter Policeman
Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to the job!
Miss J. J. (earnestly). I've told yer the bloomin' truth, I 'ave – or send I may die!
I'm on'y a Crossing-sweeper, Sir, but I'd scorn to tell yer a lie!
Give me a quarter of a hour – no more – just time to kneel down and pray,
As I used to at mother's knee long ago – then the Copper kin lead me away.
[Kneels in lime-light. The Policeman turns away, and uses his handkerchief violently; the Duke rubs his eyes.
The Duke. No, blow me if I can do it, for I feel my eyes are all twitching!
(With conviction.) If he's good enough to kneel by his mother's side, he's good enough to be in my kitching!
[Duke dismisses Constable, and, after disappearing into the Mansion for a moment, returns with a neat Page's livery, which he presents to the little Crossing-sweeper.
Miss J. J. (naïvely). 'Ow much shall I ask for on this, Sir? What! Yer don't mean to say they're for me!
Am I really to be a Page to one of England's proud aristocra-cee?
[Does some steps
Mechanical change to Scene II. —State Apartment at the Duke's. Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers. Suits of genuine old armour. Statuary (lent by British and Kensington Museums).
Enter Miss J., with her face washed, and looking particularly plump in her Page's livery. She wanders about stage, making any humorous comments that may occur to her on the armour and statuary. She might also play tricks on the Butler, and kiss the maids – all of which will serve to relieve the piece by delicate touches of comedy, and delight a discriminating audience.
Enter the Duke
I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfortable here? [Kindly.
Miss J. J. Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life, Sir, I'll stick to yer, no fear!
[In the course of conversation the Duke learns with aristocratic surprise, that the Page's Mother was a Singer at the Music Halls.
Miss J. J. What, don't know what a Music-'all's like? and you a Dook! Well, you are a jolly old juggins! 'Ere, you sit down on this gilded cheer – that's the ticket – I'll bring you your champagne and your cigars – want a light? (Strikes match on her pantaloons.) Now you're all comfortable.
The Duke sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her way, while she introduces her popular Vocal Character Sketch, of which space only permits us to give a few specimen verses.
First the Champion Comic
Steps upon the stage;
With his latest "Grand Success."
Sure to be the rage!
Sixty pounds a week he
Easily can earn;
Round the Music Halls he goes,
And does at each a "turn."
Illustration
Undah the stors in a sweet shady dairl,
I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl,
And whethaw I kissed har yaw'd like me to tairl —
Well, I'd rawthah you didn't inquiah!
All golden her hair is,
She's Queen of the Fairies,
And known by the name of the lovely Mariah,
She's a regular Venus,
But what passed between us,
I'd very much rawthah you didn't inquiah!
Next the Lady Serio,
Mincing as she walks;
If a note's too high for her,
She doesn't sing – she talks,
What she thinks about the men
You're pretty sure to learn,
She always has a hit at them,
Before she's done her "turn!"
Illustration
You notty young men, ow! you notty young men!
You tell us you're toffs, and the real Upper Ten,
But behind all your ears is the mark of a pen!
So don't you deceive us, you notty young men!
Miss J. J. (concluding). And such, Sir, are these entertainments grand,
In which Mirth and Refinement go 'and-in-'and!
[As the Duke is expressing his appreciation of the elevating effect of such performances, the Butler rushes in, followed by two flurried Footmen.
Butler. Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but I come to announce the fact
That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just been attacked!
Duke. Then we'll repel them – each to his weapons look!
I know how to defend my property, although I am a Dook!
Miss J. (snatching sword from one of the men-in-armour).
With such a weapon I their hash will settle!
You'll lend it, won't yer, old Britannia Metal?
[Shouts and firing without; the Footmen hide under sofa.
Let flunkeys flee – though danger may encircle us,
A British Buttons ain't afeard of Burgulars!
[Tremendous firing, during which the Burglars are supposed to be repulsed with heavy loss by the Duke, Butler, and Page.
Miss J.'Ere – I say, Dook, I saved yer life, didn't yer know?
(A parting shot, upon which she staggers back with a ringing scream.)
The Brutes! they've been and shot me!.. Mother!.. Oh!
[Dies in lime-light and great agony; the Footmen come out from under sofa and regard with sorrowing admiration the lifeless form of the Little Crossing-sweeper, which the Duke, as curtain falls, covers reverently with the best table-cloth.
ii.– JOE, THE JAM-EATER
A MUSICAL SPECTACULAR AND SENSATIONAL INTERLUDE
(Dedicated respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C.)
The Music-hall Dramatist, like Shakspeare and Molière, has a right to take his material from any source that may seem good to him. Mr. Punch, therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the following piece upon the well-known poem of "The Purloiner," by the Sisters Jane and Ann Taylor, who were not, as might be too hastily concluded, "Song and Dance Duettists," but two estimable ladies, who composed "cautionary" verses for the young, and whose works are a perfect mine of wealth for Moral Dramatists. In this dramatic version the Author has tried to infuse something of the old Greek sense of an overruling destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral responsibility. Those who have the misfortune to be born with a propensity for illicit jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible results of failing to overcome it early in life.
JOE, THE JAM-EATER
Dramatis Personæ
Jam-Loving Joe. By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic, Miss Connie Curdler.
Joe's Mother (the very part for Mrs. Bancroftif she can only be induced to make her reappearance).
John, a Gardener. By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.
Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend. By Mr. Beerbohm Tree (who has kindly consented to undertake the part).
Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy (by kind permission of Mr. D'oyly Carte).
Scene —The Store-room at sunset with view of exterior of Jam Cupboard, and orchard in distance.
Enter Joe
"As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought no one saw but himself." —Vide Poem.
Joe (dreamily.) 'Tis passing strange that I so partial am
To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
[Here Miss Curdlerwill introduce her great humorous Satirical Medley illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and entitled, "Some little Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied;" after which, Enter Joe'sMother, followed by Johnand the Chorus, with baskets, ladders, &c., for gathering fruit.
"His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe pears and ripe plums." —Poem
Joe's Mother (with forced cheerfulness) —
Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,
Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
[Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the right hand.
Solo– John
Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome —
Otherwise if eaten green.
Once I know a boy who stole some —
[With a glance at Joe, who turns aside to conceal his confusion.
His internal pangs were keen!
Chorus (virtuously). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean,
Their internal pangs are keen!
Joe's Mother (aside). By what misgivings is a mother tortured!
I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard.
[She invites him with a gesture to follow.
Joe (earnestly). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done.
Temptation it is ever best to shun!
Joe's M. So laudable his wish, I would not cross it —
(Mysteriously.) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet!
Chorus. Away we go tripping,
From boughs to be stripping
Each pear, plum, and pippin
Pomona supplies!
When homeward we've brought 'em,
Those products of Autumn,
We'll carefully sort 'em
(One of our old Music-hall rhymes),
According to size! [Repeat as they caper out.
[Joe's Mother, after one fond, lingering look behind, follows: the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance. Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines key of jam-cupboard door.
Joe.
At last I am alone! Suppose I tried
That cupboard – just to see what's kept inside?
[Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination.
There might be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,
For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!
[Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn.
And yet (hesitating) who knows? – a pill … perchance – a powder!
(Desperately.) What then? To scorn I'll laugh them – even louder!
[Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet (painted by Hawes Craven). Joemounts chair to explore shelves.
"How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood on the shelf!" —Vide Poem
Joe (speaking with mouth full and back to audience).
'Tis raspberry – of all the jams my favourite;
I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!
And finish up with currants from this shelf …
Who'll ever see me?
The Demon of the Jam Closet (rising slowly from an immense pot of preserves).
No one – but Myself!
[The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare (courteously lent by the Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties); weird music; Joeturns slowly and confronts the Demon with awestruck eyes. N.B. —Great opportunity for powerful acting here.
The Demon (with a bland sneer). Pray don't mind me– I will await your leisure.
Joe (automatically). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not the pleasure.
Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened?
The Demon (quietly). My name is "Jim-Jam;" occupation – fiend.
Joe, (cowering limply on his chair). O Mr. Fiend, I know it's very wrong of me!
Demon (politely). Don't mention it – but please to come "along of" me?
Joe (imploringly). Do let me off this once, – ha! you're relenting,
You smile —
Demon (grimly). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
[Catches Joe'sankle, and assists him to descend.
Joe. You'll drive me mad!
Demon (carelessly). I may– before I've done with you!
Joe. What do you want?
Demon (darkly). To have a little fun with you!
Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen.
[Chases him round and round stage, and proceeds to smear him hideously with jam.
Joe (piteously). Oh, don't! I feel so sticky. What a mess I'm in!
Demon (with affected sympathy). That is the worst of jam – it's apt to stain you.
[To Joe, as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces of his crime.
I see you're busy – so I'll not detain you!
[Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh. Cupboard-doors close with a clang; all lights down. Joestands gazing blankly for some moments, and then drags himself off stage. His Mother and John, with Pear-and-Plum-gatherers bearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back of Scene, in faint light of torches.
Re-enter Joebearing a candle and wringing his hands.
Joe. Out, jammed spot! What – will these hands never be clean?
Here's the smell of the raspberry jam still! All the powders of Gregory cannot unsweeten this little hand … (Moaning.) Oh, oh, oh!
[This passage has been accused of bearing too close a resemblance to one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the coincidence is purely accidental, as the Dramatist is not in the habit of reading such profane literature.
Joe's Mother. Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!
See – stains on all his fingers, and his thumbs!
"What Joe was about, His mother found out, When she look'd at his fingers and thumbs." —Poem again.
Nay, Joseph – 'tis your mother … speak to her!
Joe (tonelessly, as before). Lady, I know you not (touches lower part of waistcoat); but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have jam in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay me in a plain white jelly-pot, with a parchment cover, and on the label write – but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone … there are strange things in some cupboards! Demons should keep in the dust-bin. (With a ghastly smile.) I know not what ails me, but I am not feeling at all well.
[Joe's Mother stands a few steps from him, with her hands twisted in her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror.
Joe (to the Chorus). I would shake hands with you all, were not my fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it is made of. Hush! if Jim-Jam comes again, tell him that I am not at home. Loo-loo-loo!
All (with conviction). Some shock has turned his brine!
Joe (sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair.) My curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits.
[Laughs vacantly; all gather round him, shaking their heads, his Mother falls fainting at his feet as curtain falls upon a strong and moral, though undeniably gloomy dénoûment.
iii.– THE MAN-TRAP
This Drama, which, like our last, has been suggested by a poem of the Misses Taylor, will be found most striking and impressive in representation upon the Music-hall stage. The dramatist has ventured to depart somewhat from the letter, though not the spirit, of the original text, in his desire to enforce the moral to the fullest possible extent. Our present piece is intended to teach the great lesson that an inevitable Nemesis attends apple-stealing in this world, and that Doom cannot be disarmed by the intercession of the evil-doer's friends, however well-meaning.
THE MAN-TRAP!
A THRILLING MORAL MUSICAL SENSATION SKETCH IN ONE SCENE
Dramatis Personæ.
Scene. —An elaborate set, representing, on extreme left, a portion of the high road, and wall dividing it from an orchard; realistic apple- and pear-trees laden with fruit. Time, about four o'clock on a hot afternoon.Enter Williamand Thomas, hand-in-hand, along road; they ignore the dividing wall, and advance to front of stage.
Duet.– Williamand Thomas
Wm. I'm a reg'lar model boy, I am; so please make no mistake.
It's Thomas who's the bad 'un —I'm the good!
Thos. Yes, I delight in naughtiness for naughtiness's sake,
And I wouldn't be like William if I could!
Chorus
Wm. Ever since I could toddle, my conduct's been model,
There's, oh, such a difference between me and him!
Thos. While still in the cradle, I orders obeyed ill,
And now I've grown into a awful young limb!
he's
Together. Yes, now { I've} grown into a awful young limb.
I've made up my mind not to imitate him!
[Here they dance.
Second Verse
Wm. If someone hits him in the eye, he always hits them back!
When I am struck, my Ma I merely tell!
On passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a whack!
Thos. (impenitently). And jolly fun it is to hear 'em yell!
[Chorus.
Third Verse
Wm. He's always cribbing coppers – which he spends on lollipops.
Thos.(A share of which you've never yet refused!)
Wm. A stone he'll shy at frogs and toads, and anything that hops!
Thos.(While you look on, and seem to be amused!)
[Chorus.
Fourth Verse
Wm. As soon as school is over, Thomas goes a hunting squirr'ls,
Or butterflies he'll capture in his hat!
Thos.You play at Kissing in the Ring with all the little girls!
Wm. (demurely). Well, Thomas, I can see no harm in that!
[Chorus.
Fifth Verse
Wm. Ah, Thomas, if you don't reform, you'll come to some bad end!
Thos. Oh, William, put your head inside a bag!
Wm. No, Thomas, that I cannot – till you promise to amend!
Thos. Why, William, what a chap you are to nag!
[Chorus and dance. Thomasreturns to road, and regards the apple-trees longingly over top of wall.
Thos. Hi, William, look … what apples! there – don't you see?
And pears – my eye! just ain't they looking juicy!
Wm. Nay, Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin,
I will walk on, and visit Benjamin!
[Exit William (l. 2 e.), while Thomasproceeds to scale the wall and climb the boughs of the nearest pear-tree. Melodramatic Music. The Monster Man-trap stealthily emerges from long grass below, and fixes a baleful eye on the unconscious Thomas.
Thos. I'll fill my pockets, and on pears I'll feast!
[Sees Man-trap, and staggers
Oh, lor – whatever is that hugly beast!
Hi, help, here! call him off!..
The Monster.'Tis vain to holler —
My horders are – all trespassers to swoller!
You just come down – I'm waiting 'ere to ketch you.
(Indignantly.) You don't expect I'm coming up to fetch you!
Thos. (politely.) Oh, not if it would inconvenience you, Sir!
(In agonised aside.) I feel my grip grow every moment looser!
[The Monster, in a slow, uncouth manner, proceeds to scramble up the tree.
Oh, here's a go! The horrid thing can climb!
Too late I do repent me of my crime!
[Terrific sensation chase! The Monster Man-trap leaps from bough to bough with horrible agility, and eventually secures his prey, and leaps with it to the ground.
Thos. (in the Monster's jaws). I'm sure you seem a kind, good-natured creature —
You will not harm me?
Monster. No – I'll only eat yer!
[Thomasslowly vanishes down its cavernous jaws; faint yells are heard at intervals – then nothing but a dull champing sound; after which, dead silence. The Monster smiles, with an air of repletion.
Re-enter William, from r., with Benjamin
Benjamin. I'm very glad you came – but where is Thomas?
Wm. (severely). Tom is a wicked boy, and better from us,
For on the road he stopped to scale a wall!..
[Sees Man-trap, and starts
What's that?
Benj. It will not hurt good boys at all —
It's only Father's Man-trap – why so pale?
Wm. The self-same tree! … the wall that Tom would scale!
Where's Thomas now? Ah, Tom, the wilful pride of you.
[The Man-trap affects an elaborate unconsciousness.
Benj. (with sudden enlightenment). Man-trap, I do believe poor Tom's inside of you!
That sort of smile's exceedingly suspicious.
[The Man-trap endeavours to hide in the grass
Wm. Ah, Monster, give him back – 'tis true he's vicious,
And had no business to go making free with you!
But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you!
[Williamand Benjaminkneel in attitudes of entreaty on either side of the Man-trap, which shows signs of increasing emotion as the song proceeds.
Benjamin (sings)
Man-trap, bitter our distress is
That you have unkindly penned
In your innermost recesses
One who used to be our friend!
William (sings)
In his downward course arrest him!
(He may take a virtuous tack);
Pause awhile, ere you digest him,
Make an effort – bring him back!
[The Man-trap is convulsed by a violent heave; William and Benjaminbend forward in an agony of expectation, until a small shoe and the leg of Thomas'spantaloons are finally emitted from the Monster's jaws.
Benj. (exultantly). See, William, now he's coming … here's his shoe for you!
The Man-trap (with an accent of genuine regret). I'm sorry – but that's all that I can do for you!
Wm. (raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding them sorrowfully at arm's length).
He's met the fate which moralists all promise is
The end of such depraved careers as Thomas's!
Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it be-time!
(More brightly). But now to wash our hands – 'tis nearly tea-time!
[Exeunt William and Benjamin, to wash their hands, as Curtain falls. N.B. This finale is more truly artistic, and in accordance with modern dramatic ideas, than the conventional "picture."
