Act III
SCENE — Outer Walls and Courtyard of Castle Adamant. Melissa, SachaRissa, and ladies discovered, armed with battleaxes.
CHORUS
“Death to the Invader!”
Chorus: Death to the invader!
Strike a deadly blow,
As an old Crusader
Struck his Paynim foe!
Let our martial thunder
Fill his soul with wonder,
Tear his ranks asunder,
Lay the tyrant low!
Death to the invader!
Strike a deadly blow,
As an old Crusader
Struck his Paynim foe!
Melissa: Thus our courage, all untarnish’d,
We’re instructed to display;
But to tell the truth unvarnish’d,
We are more inclined to say,
“Please you, do not hurt us,”
All: “Do not hurt us, if it please you!”
Melissa: “Please you let us be.”
All: “Let us be — let us be!”
Melissa: “Soldiers disconcert us.”
All: “Disconcert us, if it please you!”
Melissa: “Frighten’d maids are we!”
All: “Maids are we, maids are we!”
Melissa: Please you,
All: Do not hurt us;
Melissa: Please you,
All: Let us be.
Mel & Cho: Frighten’d maids are we, frighten’d maids are we!
Melissa: But ’twould be an error
To confess our terror,
So in Ida’s name,
Boldly we exclaim:
Mel & Cho: Death to the invader!
Strike a deadly blow,
As an old Crusader
Struck his Paynim foe!
(Flourish. Enter Princess, armed, attended by Blanche and Psyche.)
Princess: I like your spirit, girls! We have to meet
Stern bearded warriors in fight to-day;
Wear naught but what is necessary to
Preserve your dignity before their eyes,
And give your limbs full play.
Blanche: One moment, ma’am,
Here is a paradox we should not pass
Without inquiry. We are prone to say
“This thing is Needful — that, Superfluous”—
Yet they invariably co-exist!
We find the Needful comprehended in
The circle of the grand Superfluous,
Yet the Superfluous cannot be brought
Unless you’re amply furnished with the Needful.
These singular considerations are—
Princess: Superfluous, yet not Needful — so you see
The terms may independently exist.
(To Ladies) Women of Adamant, we have to show
That women, educated to the task,
Can meet Man, face to face, on his own ground,
And beat him there. Now, let us set to work;
Where is our lady surgeon?
Sach.: Madam, here!
Princess: We shall require your skill to heal the wounds
Of those that fall.
Sach.: (Alarmed) What, heal the wounded?
Princess: Yes!
Sach.: And cut off real live legs and arms?
Princess: Of course!
Sach.: I wouldn’t do it for a thousand pounds!
Princess: Why, how is this? Are you faint-hearted, girl?
You’ve often cut them off in theory!
Sach.: In theory I’ll cut them off again
With pleasure, and as often as you like,
But not in practice.
Princess: Coward! Get you hence,
I’ve craft enough for that, and courage too,
I’ll do your work! My fusiliers, advance!,
Why, you are armed with axes! Gilded toys!
Where are your rifles, pray?
Chloe: Why, please you, ma’am,
We left them in the armoury, for fear
That in the heat and turmoil of the fight,
They might go off!
Princess: “They might!” Oh, craven souls!
Go off yourselves! Thank heaven I have a heart
That quails not at the thought of meeting men;
I will discharge your rifles! Off with you!
(Exit Chloe)
Where’s my bandmistress?
Ada: Please you, ma’am, the band
Do not feel well, and can’t come out today!
Princess: Why, this is flat rebellion! I’ve no time
To talk to them just now. But, happily,
I can play several instruments at once,
And I will drown the shrieks of those that fall
With trumpet music, such as soldiers love!
How stand we with respect to gunpowder?
My Lady Psyche — you who superintend
Our lab’ratory — are you well prepared
To blow these bearded rascals into shreds?
Psyche: Why, madam—
Princess: Well?
Psyche: Let us try gentler means.
We can dispense with fulminating grains
While we have eyes with which to flash our rage!
We can dispense with villainous saltpetre
While we have tongues with which to blow them up!
We can dispense, in short, with all the arts
That brutalize the practical polemist!
Princess: (Contemptuously) I never knew a more dispensing chemist! Away, away — I’ll meet these men alone Since all my women have deserted me!
(Exeunt all but Princess, singing
refrain of
“Please you, do not hurt us”,
pianissimo.)
Princess: So fail my cherished plans — so fails my faith—
And with it hope, and all that comes of hope!
Song - Princess
“I Built upon a Rock”
Princess: I built upon a rock,
But ere Destruction’s hand
Dealt equal lot
To Court and cot,
My rock had turn’d to sand!
I leant upon an oak,
But in the hour of need,
Alack-a-day,
My trusted stay
Was but a bruis-ed reed!
A bruis-ed reed!
Ah faithless rock,
My simple faith to mock!
Ah trait’rous oak,
Thy worthlessness to cloak,
Thy worthlessness to cloak!
I drew a sword of steel
But when to home and hearth
The battle’s breath
Bore fire and death,
My sword was but a lath!
I lit a beacon fire,
But on a stormy day
Of frost and rime,
In wintertime,
My fire had died away,
Had died away!
Ah, coward steel,
That fear can un-anneal!
False fire indeed,
To fail me in my need,
To fail me in my need!
(Princess Sinks upon a rock. Enter Chloe and all the Ladies)
Chloe: Madam, your father and your brothers claim
An audience!
Princess: What do they do here?
Chloe: They come
To fight for you!
Princess: Admit them!
Blanche: Infamous!
One’s brothers, ma’am, are men!
Princess: So I have heard.
But all my women seem to fail me when
I need them most. In this emergency,
Even one’s brothers may be turned to use.
Gama: (Entering, pale and unnerved) My daughter!
Princess: Father! Thou art free!
Gama: Aye, free!
Free as a tethered ass! I come to thee
With words from Hildebrand. Those duly given
I must return to blank captivity.
I’m free so far.
Princess: Your message.
Gama: Hildebrand
Is loth to war with women. Pit my sons,
My three brave sons, against these popinjays,
These tufted jack-a-dandy featherheads,
And on the issue let thy hand depend!
Princess: Insult on insult’s head! Are we a stake
For fighting men? What fiend possesses thee,
That thou has come with offers such as these
From such as he to such an one as I?
Gama: I am possessed
By the pale devil of a shaking heart!
My stubborn will is bent. I dare not face
That devilish monarch’s black malignity!
He tortures me with torments worse than death,
I haven’t anything to grumble at!
He finds out what particular meats I love,
And gives me them. The very choicest wines,
The costliest robes — the richest rooms are mine.
He suffers none to thwart my simplest plan,
And gives strict orders none should contradict me!
He’s made my life a curse! (Weeps)
Princess: My tortured father!
SONG (King GAMA with CHORUS of GIRLS)
“Whene’er I Spoke”
Gama: Whene’er I poke
Sarcastic joke
Replete with malice spiteful,
This people mild
Politely smil’d,
And voted me delightful!
Now, when a wight
Sits up all night
Ill-natur’d jokes devising,
And all his wiles
Are met with smiles
It’s hard, there’s no disguising!
Ah! Oh, don’t the days seem lank and long
When all goes right and nothing goes wrong,
And isn’t your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Chorus: Oh, isn’t your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Gama: When German bands
From music stands
Play’d Wagner imperfectly —
I bade them go—
They didn’t say no,
But off they went directly!
The organ boys
They stopp’d their noise,
With readiness surprising,
And grinning herds
Of hurdy-gurds
Retired apologising!
Ah! Oh, don’t the days seem lank and long
When all goes right and nothing goes wrong,
And isn’t your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Chorus: Oh, isn’t your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
Gama: I offer’d gold
In sums untold
To all who’d contradict me—
I said I’d pay
A pound a day
To any one who kick’d me—
I’ve brib’d with toys
Great vulgar boys
To utter something spiteful,
But, bless you, no!
They would be so
Confoundedly politeful!
Ah! In short, these aggravating lads,
They tickle my tastes, they feed my fads,
They give me this and they give me that,
And I’ve nothing whatever to grumble at!
Chorus: Oh, isn’t your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!
(Gama Bursts into tears and falls sobbing
on a seat.)
Princess: My poor old father! How he must have suffered!
Well, well, I yield!
Gama: (Hysterically) She yields! I’m saved, I’m saved! (Exit)
Princess: Open the gates — admit these warriors,
Then get you all within the castle walls.
(Exit)
(The gates are opened and the Girls mount the
battlements as the
Soldiers enter. Arac, Guron and Scynthius
also enter.)
Chorus of Soldiers
“When anger spreads his wing”
Chorus: When anger spread his wing,
And all seems dark as night for it,
There’s nothing but to fight for it,
But ere you pitch your ring,
Select a pretty site for it,
(This spot is suited quite for it,)
And then you gaily sing,
And then you gaily sing:
“Oh I love the jolly rattle
Of an orde-al by battle,
There’s an end of tittle-tattle
When your enemy is dead.
It’s an arrant molly-coddle
Fears a crack upon his noddle
And he’s only fit to swaddle
In a downy feather-bed!
Ladies: For a Soldiers: Oh, I fight’s love the a jolly kind rattle of Of an thing orde-al by battle
That I There’s an
love end of
to tittle
look tattle,
up- When your
on, enemy is dead.
So It’s an
let arrant
us molly-
sing, coddle
Long Fears a
live crack upon
the his
King, noddle,
And his And he’s
son only fit to
Hi-swaddle, In a
la-downy fea-
ri-on! ther bed!
(During this, Hilarion, Florian,
and Cyril are brought out by the “Daughters of
the Plough”.
They are still bound and wear
the robes.
Enter GAMA.)
Gama: Hilarion! Cyril! Florian! dressed as women!
Is this indeed Hilarion?
Hilar.: Yes, it is!
Gama: Why, you look handsome in your women’s clothes!
Stick to ’em! Men’s attire becomes you not!
(To CYRIL and FLORIAN) And you, young ladies, will you please to
pray
King Hildebrand to set me free again?
Hang on his neck and gaze into his eyes,
He never could resist a pretty face!
Hilar.: You dog, you’ll find, though I wear woman’s garb, My sword is long and sharp!
Gama: Hush, pretty one!
Here’s a virago! Here’s a termagant!
If length and sharpness go for anything,
You’ll want no sword while you can wag your tongue!
Cyril: What need to waste your words on such as he?
He’s old and crippled.
Gama: Aye, but I’ve three sons,
Fine fellows, young and muscular, and brave,
They’re well worth talking to! Come, what d’ye say?
Arac: Aye, pretty ones, engage yourselves with us,
If three rude warriors affright you not!
Hilar.: Old as you are, I’d wring your shrivelled neck
If you were not the Princess Ida’s father.
Gama: If I were not the Princess Ida’s father,
And so had not her brothers for my sons,
No doubt you’d wring my neck — in safety too!
Come, come, Hilarion, begin, begin!
Give them no quarter — they will give you none.
You’ve this advantage over warriors
Who kill their country’s enemies for pay,—
You know what you are fighting for — look there!
(Pointing to Ladies on the
battlements)
(Exit Gamma. Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril
are led off.)
SONG (Arac, Guron, Scynthius and Chorus)
“This Helmet, I Suppose”
Arac: This helmet, I suppose,
Was meant to ward off blows,
It’s very hot
And weighs a lot,
As many a guardsman knows,
As many a guardsman knows,
As many a guardsman knows,
As many a guardsman knows,
So off, so off that helmet goes.
Others: Yes, yes, yes,
So off that helmet goes!
(Giving their helmets to
attendants)
Arac: This tight-fitting cuirass
Is but a useless mass,
It’s made of steel,
And weighs a deal,
This tight-fitting cuirass
Is but a useless mass,
A man is but an ass
Who fights in a cuirass,
So off, so off goes that cuirass.
Others: Yes, yes, yes,
So off goes that cuirass!
(Removing
cuirasses)
Arac: These brassets, truth to tell,
May look uncommon well,
But in a fight
They’re much too tight,
They’re like a lobster shell,
They’re like a lobster shell!
Others: Yes, yes, yes,
They’re like a lobster shell.
(Removing
their brassets)
Arac: These things I treat the same
(indicating leg pieces)
(I quite forget their name.)
They turn one’s legs
To cribbage pegs—
Their aid I thus disclaim,
Their aid I thus disclaim,
Though I forget their name,
Though I forget their name,
Their aid, their aid I thus disclaim!
Others: Yes, yes, yes,
All: Their aid (we/they) thus disclaim!
(They remove their leg pieces and wear close-fitting shape suits.)
Enter Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril
(Desperate fight between the three Princes
and the three
Knights, during which the Ladies on the
battlements and the Soldiers on the stage sing the
following chorus):
CHORUS DURING THE FIGHT
“This is our Duty”
Chorus: This is our duty plain towards
Our Princess all immaculate,
We ought to bless her brothers’ swords,
And piously ejaculate:
Oh, Hungary!
Oh, Hungary!
Oh, doughty sons of Hungary!
May all success
Attend and bless
Your warlike ironmongery!
Hilarion! Hilarion! Hilarion!
(By this time, Arac, Guron, and
Scynthius are on the ground, wounded —
Hilarion, Cyril and
Florian stand
over them.)
Princess: (Entering through gate and followed by Ladies,
Hildebrand, and Gama.)
Hold! stay your hands! — we yield ourselves to you!
Ladies, my brothers all lie bleeding there!
Bind up their wounds — but look the other way.
(Coming down) Is this the end? (Bitterly to Lady
Blanche)
How say you, Lady Blanche—
Can I with dignity my post resign?
And if I do, will you then take my place?
Blanche: To answer this, it’s meet that we consult
The great Potential Mysteries; I mean
The five Subjunctive Possibilities—
The May, the Might, the Would, the Could, the Should.
Can you resign? The Prince May claim you; if
He Might, you Could — and if you Should, I Would!
Princess: I thought as much! Then to my fate I yield—
So ends my cherished scheme! Oh, I had hoped
To band all women with my maiden throng,
And make them all abjure tyrannic Man!
Hildebd: A noble aim!
Princess: You ridicule it now;
But if I carried out this glorious scheme,
At my exalted name Posterity
Would bow in gratitude!
Hildebd: But pray
reflect —
If you enlist all women in your cause,
And make them all abjure tyrannic Man,
The obvious question then arises, “How
Is this Posterity to be provided?”
Princess: I never thought of that! My Lady Blanche,
How do you solve the riddle?
Blanche: Don’t ask me —
Abstract Philosophy won’t answer it.
Take him — he is your Shall. Give in to Fate!
Princess: And you desert me. I alone am staunch!
Hilarion: Madam, you placed your trust in Woman — well,
Woman has failed you utterly — try Man,
Give him one chance, it’s only fair — besides,
Women are far too precious, too divine,
To try unproven theories upon.
Experiments, the proverb says, are made
On humble subjects — try our grosser clay,
And mould it as you will!
Cyril: Remember, too
Dear Madam, if at any time you feel
A-weary of the Prince, you can return
To Castle Adamant, and rule your girls
As heretofore, you know.
Princess: And shall I find
The Lady Psyche here?
Psyche: If Cyril, ma’am,
Does not behave himself, I think you will.
Princess: And you Melissa, shall I find you here?
Melissa: Madam, however Florian turns out,
Unhesitatingly I answer, No!
Gama: Consider this, my love, if your mama
Had looked on matters from your point of view
(I wish she had), why where would you have been?
Blanche: There’s an unbounded field of speculation,
On which I could discourse for hours!
Princess: No doubt!
We will not trouble you. Hilarion,
I have been wrong — I see my error now.
Take me, Hilarion — “We will walk this world
Yoked in all exercise of noble end!
And so through those dark gates across the wild
That no one knows!” Indeed, I love thee — Come!
Finale
“With joy abiding”
Princess: With joy abiding,
Together gliding
Through life’s variety,
In sweet society,
And thus enthroning
The love I’m owning,
On this atoning
I will rely!
Chorus: It were profanity
For poor humanity
To treat as vanity
The sway of Love.
In no locality
Or principality
Is our mortality
It’s sway above!
Hilarion: When day is fading,
With serenading
And such frivolity
Of tender quality—
With scented showers
Of fairest flowers,
The happy hours
Will gaily fly!
The happy hours will gaily fly!
Chorus: It were profanity
For poor humanity
To treat as vanity
The sway of Love.
In no locality
Or principality
Is our mortality
It’s sway above!
1st Sops: In no lo- Others:
cality Or princi- Its
pality Is our mor-sway
tality It’s sway a- a-
bove! bove!
Princess & With scented Others: Hilarion: showers Of fairest Its flowers, The happy sway hours will gaily a- fly! bove!
All: In no locality
Or principality
Is our mortality
Above the sway of love!
Curtain