The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 84
Act II. — Saloon in the house of Mdlle. Lange—brilliantly illuminated
Act II.
Saloon in the house of Mdlle. Lange—brilliantly illuminated.
Mddles. Delaunay, Cydalise. Madame Herbelin, and others all dressed in the most exaggerated fashion of the period (Merveilleuses) and Larivaudiere.
Chorus of Merveilleuses.
No! we really cannot believe it,
Our minds will not receive it,
This story you tell is so strange;
Though we read it in the papers—
Such scandal, such dreadful capers,
Sure the world must be going to change.
Song and Chorus.
Lange.
Cho.
Lange.
Cho.
Lange. Cho.
page 13
We by the nose lead them along;
For we can coax and charm them still.
And make them do just as we will.
A soldier is just like a stupid bird—
All fuss and feathers, trained and spurred;
He thinks he knows a thing or two,
We'll show him that we do.
In woman's weakness lies her power,
The weapons that we prize
They flash from out our eyes;
And 'neath that flery shower
The strong man faints and dies.
At the glance of our eyes
He faints and dies.
And for flirting:
And though we're weak and they are strong
We by the nose lead them along;
For we can coax and charm them still.
And make them do just as we will.
The conqueror of Barbary.
He shall not make us fear
Tho' he took Aboukir;
We, without danger vict'ry gaining,
Our conquests have secured
By Smile and glance and word;
Much greater end? obtaining
Than he does by the sword.
Romance.
Pom.
That she scarce knows what she should say,
And in her childish simple play
She's ignorant of ev'ry danger.
In this our Land of Liberty
She told the truth, and so you see
How very simple she must be;
Yes; she's to Liberty a stranger,
She is so innocent of evil,
That e'en the powerful she would chaff,
And meaning not to be uncivil,
'Gainst e'en the highest raise a laugh
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And with a song so light and gay
She'd sing our characters away,
And all in simple childish play
She's to society a stranger.
Duet.—Clair and Lange.
Clair. & Lange.
Lange. (solo.)
Clair. (solo.)
Lange. (solo.)
When we sweetly lisped "Mamma," "Papa;"
When all our cares our mother mild would
Soothe, and teach us B A, ba.
Those days have vanished far away—
Ah! why could they no longer stay?
You told me all your life's strange story;
And, on the sly, we turned it to a play,
And acted it in solitary glory ?
We pattered long ere we could walk,
And innocently swore and cursed,
And of market slang we used the worst.
Safely assert we learned the first.
A due.
Lange. (solo.)
Clair. (solo.)
Lange.
Oh! happy, happy days, &c.
What things they write and sing of me.
'Twas I who said such things of thee.
But in old times long ago
I'd have done a little snarling,
In the style of Ma'am Angôt.
(Sticks her arms akimbo, and, assumes the manner of a fish fag.)
Let me alone,
Clair.
Lange.
Clair.
Lange.
Ma'am'selle Suzon.
If you address me in that tone
I'll make you groan, and sigh, and moan,
For I'll demolish your chignon.
See this pink of virtue rare,
with her arms and legs all bare;
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Sure it must be Venus fair,
Dressed in nothing but her hair,
Come from ocean's ebb and flow,
Just to make a good scare-crow.
And the tone of your so-called best society.
A due.
Clair.
Lange.
Ah ! at school we lasses learnt a lot
Of curious things each day;
But whether from our books or not
I'd hardly dare to say;
And indeed no girls are fools
Who have studied in good schools.
A due.
For our school days—hurrah !
Couplets.
Lange and Ange Pitou.
Lange.
Ange Pitou.
Lange.
Ange Pitou.
It's very best friends must allow it;
But you may find out before long
That you blame it because you don't know it.
The Republic may not have an air
So soft, so alluring as mine.
With the grace that distinguishes thine.
Not even to recognise merit;
And tho' you will not own it. I fear,
The Republic admires your spirit.
The Government loves a brave man
Who points out its faults without shrinking.
I'm of you, not of politics, thinking.
Quintette.
Lariv.
Louch.
Lariv.
Louch.
Lange.
Clair.
Lange.
Ange Pitou.
Lariv.
Louch.
Lariv.
Clair.
Lange (to Lariv.)
Lariv.
Clair.
Lange.
Louch.
Lariv.
Ange Pitou.
Lange (aside.)
Lariv.
Ange Pitou.
Louch.
Clair
Lange.
A. Pitou
Lariv.
Louch.
page 16
'Twas tor her
This gentleman did on us call.
Ugh! you horrid bear,
How you stare,
For ladies' nerves you little care.
That Pitou came in here to see;
But still the fear that he was faithless
Made me quite uneasy be.
But t'other whom he came to see;
Yes! yes! you horrid growling bear,
For ladies' nerves you little care.
That I was hither brought to see,
So from temptation I will flee,
Or lost I'll surely be.
That this fellow came to see.
That this fellow came to see.
And you deceive me still?
Can you distrust my sincerity ?
'Tis this young man you love?
That I love but him.
The blush would come, but what matter!
Was it love for Clairette did you send here?
I came for her and her alone.
Oh ! Fie ! fie !
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I never heard before,
And though doubts may be rising
They'll act on them no more.
I never heard before,
And tho' doubts may be rising
They'll act on them no more.
I never told before,
And tho' doubt? may be rising
They'll act on them no more.
I never heard before,
And tho' doubts may be rising
I'll act on them no more.
I never heard before,
And tho' doubts may be rising
He'll act on them no more.
Lariv.(to Louchard.)
Lough.
Lariv.
Lough. (recollecting himself.)
Lange
Clair.
A. Pitou
Lariv.
Louch.
Though to my eyes all things do change;
Yet still I think.
Is of virtue the pink !
I'm an angel, good as gohd,
So you see ev'ry one knows it,
And my wings I'll soon untold.
She's an angel, good as gold.
Ye? ! indeed ev'ry one knows it,
And her wings she'll soon unfold.
page 18
She's an angel, good as gold.
Yes ! indeed ev'ry one knows it,
And her wings she'll soon unfold.
She's an angel good as gold.
Yes ! indeed ev'ry one knows it,
And her wings she'll soon untold.
She's an angel, good as gold.
Yes I indeed ev'ry one knows it
And her wings she'll soon unfold.
Enter Trenitz and Conspirators.
Lange.
Tren.
Ange Pitou.
Lange.
Tren.
Omnes.
Clair. (enters.)
Omnes.
Lange.
Clair.
Omnes.
Tren.
Lange.
Tren.
Omnes.
Finale.
Chorus of Conspirators.
When we Conspirators would be,
And turn the world topsy-turvee,
Each one must wear beneath his hat
A fair-haired wig, and black cravat.
We ah not afwaid of meeting
A wegiment—we would not feah to face.
I but present you a recruit,
The singer whom you've heard about;
Who, in the street, does every day
'Gainst wealth and power still raise his lay.
A fair-haiwed wig and bwack cwavat.
A fair-haired wig and black cravat.
From my casement clear
Fierce soldiers do appear.
They're coming near—
Augereau's soldiers now are here.
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Fly from here, fly from here!
The house is quite surrounded,
And we are all impounded.
To surprise these soldiers rough and hearty,
We'll improvise a wedding party.
Here's the Bridegroom and the fair Bride—
But all these wigs of yellow hair
And black cravats that you all wear—
Bah! Theah goes wig and yellow haiah,
My black cwavat will follow—Theah!
Our black cravats must follow—there!
(knocks outside.)
Lange. (speaking)
Lange, presenting her hand to Trenitz and Valsing.
Dancing, glancing,
All delight enhancing.
Oh! what pleasure,
Beyond measure,
Sweeter far than power or treasure.
Chorus of Ladies.
Dancing, glancing,
All delight enhancing.
Oh ! what pleasure,
Beyond measure,
Sweeter far than gold or power.
Full Chorus.
Dancing, glancing,
All delight enhancing.
Oh ! what pleasure,
Beyond measure,
Sweeter far than gold or power. Tra, la!
(enter soldiers.)
Lange.
Officer.
Lange.
page 20
The traitors you fear
Shall appear.
They are here.
(pointing to Clairette and Pitou.)
A wedding party is here assembled;
And tho' not invited, still welcome you'll be.
But tho' at your valour Egyptians have trembled,
You'll not find Parisians so weak in the knee.
Stay then, stay,
We heartily pray!
Mirth, feasting and pleasure's tho order of the day.
Happy we'll be,
For pleasure is free;
And you, Mister Officer, shall dance with me.
Around we'll spin.
See who will win—yes !
Dancing, &c.
Chorus. Dancing, &c.
Clair. (valsing with Pitou)
Ange Pitou.
Clair.
Lange. (overhearing.)
Officer.
Lange.
Officer.
Lange. (aside)
Cho.
I swear that my hand shall be thine, only thine.
But avenged I will be.
End of Second Act.