Tonight at the Proms we travel back to Tudor England, to the mist that
settles on the Thames, to the Tower of London, for a plot of cunning
schemes and dastardly disguises of unrequited love and reluctant
engagements. London has been centre stage all summer and tonight is no
different, it's Gilbert and Sullivan's grand opera, the Yeoman
of the Guard. The BBC Concert Orchestra takes to the Royal Albert
Hall stage this evening, alongside the BBC Singers and we have a
fabulous line-up of celebrated British stars who'll all be making
final adjustments to their wigs and to their ruffs and tunics even as
we speak. Yeoman of the Guard was an immediate hit when it opened at
the Savoy Theatre in 1888. The first run carried on for 400 shows.
The plot centres around a rather convoluted plan to rescue the
dashing Colonel Fairfax, who is awaiting execution at the Tower on
a trumped up charge and who has also unwittingly stolen the heart
of young Phoebe, who is the daughter of one of the Yeomen of
the Guard. And here comes conductor, Jane Glover, to conduct BBC Concert
Orchestra and the BBC Singers in Gilbert and Sullivan's great Savoy
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# When maiden loves # And to all questions she replies
# So soft, tis scarcely heard "Heigh-ho!"
# An idle breath
# Yet life and death
# May hang upon a maid's "Heigh-ho!"
# An idle breath
# Yet life and death
# May hang upon a maid's "Heigh-ho!"
# When maiden loves she mopes apart
# As owl mopes on a tree
# Although she keenly feels the smart
# She cannot tell what ails her heart
# With its sad "Ah, me!"
# Tis but a foolish sigh
# "Ah, me!"
# Born but to droop and die
# "Ah, me!"
# Yet all the sense of eloquence
# Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
# Yet all the sense of eloquence
# Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah, me!"
# "Ah, me!" "Ah, me!"
# Yet all the sense of eloquence
# Lies hidden
# In a maid's "Ah, me!" #
APPLAUSE
WEEPING
WEEPING Mistress
Mistress Meryll.
Mistress Meryll. Eh?
Mistress Meryll. Eh? Oh,
Mistress Meryll. Eh? Oh, it's you, is it? You may go away, if you like.
Because I don't want you, you know. Haven't you anything to say to me?
Oh yes. Are the birds all caged? The wild beasts all littered down?
All the locks, chains, bars and bolts in good order? Is the Little
Ease sufficiently uncomfortable? The racks, pincers, and thumbscrews
all ready for work? Ugh, you brute! These allusions to my professional
duties are in doubtful taste. I didn't become a head-jailer because
I like head-jailing. I didn't become an assistant-tormentor
because I like assistant-tormenting. We can't all be sorcerers, you know.
Ah! You brought that upon yourself. Colonel Fairfax is not a sorcerer.
He's a man of science and an alchemist. Well, whatever he is, he
won't be one for long, for he's to be beheaded today for dealings with
the devil. His master nearly had him last night, when the fire broke
out in the Beauchamp Tower. Oh, how I wish he had escaped in the
confusion. But take care, there's still time for a reply to his
petition for mercy. I'm content to chance that. This evening at 7.30pm.
You're a cruel monster to speak so unfeelingly of the death of a young
and handsome soldier. Young and handsome. How do you know he's
young and handsome? Because I've seen him every day for weeks past
taking his exercise on the Beauchamp Tower. Curse him. There,
I believe you're jealous of him, now. Jealous of a man I've never
spoken to. Jealous of a poor soul who's to die in an hour. I am. I'm
jealous of everybody and everything. I'm jealous of the very words I
speak to you because they reach your ears and I mustn't go near
them. How unjust you are. Jealous of the words you speak to me. Why,
you know as well as I do that I don't even like them. You used to
like them. I used to pretend I liked them. It was mere politeness
to comparative strangers. I don't believe you know what jealousy is.
I don't believe you know how it eats into a man's heart and
disorders his digestion and turns his interior into boilng lead. Oh,
you are a heartless jade to trifle with the delicate organisation of
# Brave in bearing # Ne'er a stranger
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# Brave in bearing A good day to you. Good day, Dame
Carruthers. Busy today? Busy, aye. The fire in the Beauchamp last
night has given me work enough. A dozen poor prisoners, Richard
Colfax, Sir Martin Byfleet, Colonel Fairfax, Warren the preacher-poet,
and half-a-score others all packed into one small cell, not six feet
square. Poor Colonel Fairfax, who's to die today, is to be removed to
No. 14 in the Cold Harbour that he may have his last hour alone with
his confessor; and I've to see to that. Poor gentleman. He'll die
bravely. I fought under him two years since, and he valued his life
as it were a feather. He's the bravest, the handsomest, and the
best young gentleman in England. He twice saved my father's life and
it's a cruel thing, a wicked thing, and a barbarous thing that so
gallant a hero should lose his head - for it's the handsomest head in
England. For dealings with the devil. Aye, if all were beheaded
who dealt with him, there'd be busy doings on Tower Green. You know
very well that Colonel Fairfax is a student of alchemy. Nothing more,
and nothing less but this wicked Tower, like a cruel giant in a
fairytale, must be fed with blood, and that blood must be the best and
bravest in England, or it's not good enough for the old Blunderbore.
Ugh! Silence, you silly girl, you know not what you say. I was born
in the old keep, and I've grown grey in it, and, please God, I
shall die and be buried in it and there's not a stone in its walls
that is not as dear to me as my # And the Saxons
# Though a queen to save her head # And it tells of duty done
# The screw may twist # O'er London town
# The screw may twist # And all its hoard
# O'er London town and its golden hoard
# I keep my silent watch and ward!
# Within its wall of rock
# The flower of the brave
# Have perished with a constancy unshaken
# From the dungeon to the block
# From the scaffold to the grave
# Is a journey many gallant hearts have taken
# And the wicked flames may hiss
# Round the heroes who have fought
# For conscience and for home in all its beauty
# But the grim old fortalice
# Takes little heed of aught
# That comes not in the measure of its duty.
# The screw may twist and the rack may turn
# And men may bleed and men may burn
# O'er London town and its golden hoard
# I keep my silent watch and ward!
# The screw may twist and the rack may turn
# And all its hoard And men may bleed
# O'er London town And men may burn
# O'er London town and its golden hoard
# I keep my silent Silent watch and ward!
APPLAUSE
Father,
Father, has
Father, has no
Father, has no reprieve arrived for the poor gentleman? No, my lass but
there's one hope yet. Thy brother Leonard, who, as a reward for his
valour in saving his standard and cutting his way through 50 foes who
would have hanged him, has been appointed a Yeoman of the Guard,
will arrive this morning, and as he comes straight from Windsor, where
the Court is, it may be - it may be - that he will bring the expected
reprieve with him. Oh, that he may. Amen to that. For the Colonel twice
saved my life, and I'd give the rest of my life to save his. And
wilt thou not be glad to welcome thy brave brother, with the fame of
whose exploits all England is a- ringing? Aye, truly, if he brings
the reprieve. And not otherwise? Well, he's a brave man indeed, and
I love brave men. All brave men? Most of them, I verily believe. But
I hope Leonard will not be too strict with me. They say he is a
very dragon of virtue and circumspection. Now, my dear old
father is kindness itself, and leaves thee pretty well to thine
own ways, eh? Well, I've no fears for thee, thou hast a feather-brain,
but thou art a good lass. Yes, that's all very well, but if
Leonard is going to tell me that I may not do this and I may not do
that, and I must not talk to this one, or walk with that one, but go
through the world with my lips pursed up and my eyes cast down,
like a poor nun who has renounced mankind, why as I have not
renounced mankind, and don't mean to renounce mankind, I won't have
it, there! Nay, he'll not check thee more than is good for thee,
Phbe. He's a brave fellow, and bravest among brave fellows, and
yet it seems but yesterday that he robbed the Lieutenant's orchard.
Father. Leonard, my brave boy, I'm right glad to see thee, and so is
Phbe. Aye. Hast thou brought Colonel Fairfax's reprieve? Nay, I
have here a despatch for the Lieutenant, but no reprieve for the
Colonel. Poor gentleman. Poor gentleman. Aye, I would I had
brought better news. I'd give my right hand - nay, my body, my life,
to save his. Dost thou speak in earnest, my lad? Aye, father, I'm
no braggart. Did he not save thy life? And am I not his foster-
brother? Then hearken to me. Thou hast come to join the Yeomen of the
Guard. Well? None has seen thee but ourselves? And a sentry, who took
scant notice of me. Now to prove thy words. Give me the despatch and
get thee hence at once. Here is money, and I'll send thee more. Lie
hidden for a space, and let no one know. I'll convey a suit of
Yeoman's uniform to the Colonel's cell. He shall shave off his beard,
so that none shall know him, and I'll own him as my son, the brave
Leonard Meryll, who saved his flag and cut his way through 50 foes who
thirsted for his life. He will be welcomed without question by my
brother Yeomen, I'll warrant that. Now, how to get access to the
Colonel's cell? The key is with they sour-faced admirer, Wilfred
Shadbolt. I think, I say, I think, I can get anything I want from
Wilfred. I think, mind I say, I think, you may leave that to me.
Then get thee hence at once, lad and bless thee for this sacrifice.
And take my blessing, too, dear, dear Leonard. And thine, eh? Thy
love is new-born. Wrap it up carefully, lest it take cold and
# The scheme is rash # But ours are not the hearts
# The air I breathe # My life is his
# That life is his so count it naught!
# And shall I reckon risks I run
# When services are to be done
# To save the life of such a one?
# Unworthy thought! Unworthy thought!
# And shall we reckon risks we run
# To save the life of such an one?
# Unworthy thought! Unworthy thought!
# We may succeed, who can foretell?
# May heav'n help our hope
# May heav'n help
# May heav'n help our hope Farewell!
# May heav'n help our hope
# Help our hope Farewell! #
WEEPING
WEEPING Nay,
Nay, lass,
Nay, lass, be
Nay, lass, be of
Nay, lass, be of good cheer, we may save him yet. Oh, see, father, they
bring the poor gentleman from the Beauchamp. Oh, father, his hour is
not yet come? No, no, they lead him to the Cold Harbour Tower to await
his end in solitude. But softly, the Lieutenant approaches. He
should not see thee weep. Halt! Colonel Fairfax, my old friend, we
meet but sadly. Sir, I greet you with all goodwill and I thank you
for the zealous care with which you have guarded me from the pestilent
dangers which threaten human life outside. In this happy little
community, death, when he comes, doth so in punctual and business-
like fashion, and, like a courtly gentleman, giveth due notice of his
advent, that one may not be taken unawares. Sir, you bear this
bravely, as a brave man should. sir, it is no light boon to die
swiftly and surely at a given hour and in a given fashion. Truth to
tell, I would gladly have my life but if that may not be, I have the
next best thing to it, which is death. Believe me, sir, my lot is
not so much amiss. Oh, father, father, I cannot bear it. My poor
lass. Nay, pretty one, why weepest thou? Come, be comforted. Such a
life as mine is not worth weeping for. Sergeant Meryll, is it not?
May I greet my old friend? Why, man, what's all this? Thou and I have
faced the grim old king a dozen times, and never has his majesty
come to me in such goodly fashion. Keep a stout heart, good fellow. We
are soldiers, and we know how to die, thou and I. Truth to tell, it
is better to die than to live, for, # Who perish in July?
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# And I, war-worn # I might have had to live
# I might have had to live And now, Sir Richard, I have a boon
to beg. I am in this strait for no better reason than because my
kinsman, Sir Clarence Poltwhistle, one of the Secretaries of State,
has charged me with sorcery, in order that he may succeed to my
estate, which devolves to him provided I die unmarried. As thou
wilt most surely do. Nay, as I will most surely not do, by your
worship's grace. I have a mind to thwart this good cousin of mine.
How? By marrying forthwith, to be sure. But heaven ha' mercy, whom
wouldst thou marry? Nay, I am indifferent on that score. Coming
death hath made of me a true and chivalrous knight, who holds all
womankind in such esteem that the oldest, and the meanest, and the
least-favoured of them is good enough for him. So, my good
Lieutenant, if thou wouldst serve a poor soldier who has but an hour to
live, find me the first that comes, my confessor shall marry us, and
her dower shall be my dishonoured name and a hundred crowns to boot.
No such poor dower for an hour of matrimony. A strange request. I
doubt that I should be warranted in granting it. There never was a
marriage fraught with so little of evil to the contracting parties. In
an hour she'll be a widow, and I - a bachelor again for aught I know.
Well, I will see what can be done, for I hold thy kinsman in
abhorrence for the scurvy trick he has played thee. A thousand thanks,
good sir; we meet again on this spot in an hour or so. I shall be a
bridegroom then, and your worship will wish me joy. Till then,
farewell. I am ready, good fellows. He is a brave fellow, and it is a
pity that he should die. Now, how to find him a bride at such short
notice? Well, the task should be # Give us quip and quiddity
# Give us quip and quiddity Now wherewithal shall we please
you? We can rhyme you couplet, triolet, quatrain, sonnet, rondolet,
ballade, what you will. Or we can dance you, saraband, gondolet,
carole, Pimpernel, or Jumping Joan. Let us give them the singing farce
of the Merryman and his Maid, therein is song and dance too.
# Who fled from the mocking throng # It's a song of a merryman
# Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
# Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady
# Heighdy! Heighdy!
# Misery me, lack-a-day-dee!
# He sipped no sup and he craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# I have a song to sing, O!
# What me is your song, O?
# It is sung with the ring
# Of the songs maids sing
# Who love with a love lifelong, O!
# It's the song of a merrymaid Peerly proud
# Who loved a lord and who laughed aloud
# At the moan of the merryman Moping mum
# Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
# Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# Heighdy! Heighdy!
# Misery me, lack-a-day-dee!
# He sipped no sup and he craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# I have a song to sing, O!
# Sing me your song, O!
# It is sung to the knell
# Of a churchyard bell
# And a doleful dirge Ding-dong, O!
# It's a song of a popinjay bravely born
# Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
# At the humble merrymaid peerly proud
# Who loved a lord and who laughed aloud
# At the moan of the merryman Moping mum
# Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
# Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# Heighdy! Heighdy!
# Misery me, lack-a-day-dee!
# He sipped no sup and he craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# I have a song to sing, O!
# Sing me your song, O!
# It is sung with a sigh
# And a tear in the eye
# For it tells of a righted wrong O!
# It's a song of the merrymaid once so gay
# Who turned on her heel and tripped away
# From the peacock popinjay bravely born
# Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
# At the humble heart that he did not prize
# So she begged on her knees with downcast eyes
# For the love of the merryman Moping mum
# Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
# Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# Heighdy! Heighdy!
# Misery me, lack-a-day-dee!
# His pains were o'er and he sighed no more
# For he lived in the love of a lady!
# Heighdy! heighdy!
# Misery me, lack-a-day-dee!
# His pains were o'er and he sighed no more
# For he lived in the love of a lady! #
APPLAUSE
Well
Well sung
Well sung and
Well sung and well danced. A kiss for that pretty maid! Aye, a kiss
all round. Best beware, I am armed. Back sirs, back. This is going too
far. Thou dost not see the humour of it, eh? Yet there is humour in
all things, even in this. Help help! What is this pother? Sir, we
sang to these folk, and they would have repaid us with gross courtesy,
but for your honour's coming. with ye. Clear the rabble. Now, my
girl, who are you, and what do you here? May it please you, sir, we
are two strolling players, Jack Point and I, Elsie Maynard, at your
worship's service. We go from fair to fair, singing, and dancing, and
playing brief interludes, and so we make a poor living. You two, eh?
Are ye man and wife? No, sir; for though I'm a fool, there is a limit
to my folly. Her mother, old Bridget Maynard, travels with us,
for Elsie is a good girl. But the old woman is a-bed with fever, and
we have come here to pick up some silver to buy an electuary for her.
Hark ye, my girl. Your mother is ill? Sorely ill, sir. And needs
good food, and many things that thou canst not buy? Alas, sir, it
is too true. Wouldst thou earn an hundred crowns? An hundred crowns.
They might save her life! Then listen. A worthy but unhappy
gentleman is to be beheaded in an hour on this very spot. For
sufficient reasons, he desires to marry before he dies, and he hath
asked me to find him a wife. Wilt thou be that wife? The wife of a
man I have never seen. Why, sir, look you, I am concerned in this,
for though I am not yet wedded to Elsie Maynard, time works wonders,
and there's no knowing what may be in store for us. Have we your
worship's word for it that this gentleman will die today? Nothing
is more certain, I grieve to say. And that the maiden will be allowed
to depart the very instant the ceremony is at an end? The very
instant. I pledge my honour that it shall be so. An hundred crowns?
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
hundred crowns! For my part, I # Head over heels
# Head over heels # Head over heels
# Head over heels Head over heels
# Temptation!
# Oh, temptation! #
And
And so,
And so, good
And so, good fellow, you are a jester? Aye, sir, and like some of
my jests, out of place. I have a need of such an one. Tell me, what
are your qualifications for such a post? Marry, sir, I have a pretty
wit. I can riddle you from dawn of day to set of sun, and, if that
content you not, well on to midnight and the small hours. Oh,
sir, a pretty wit, I warrant you. A # At peer or prince
# I've wisdom from the East # You may find it in the jeering
# I can teach you with a quip if I've a mind
# I can trick you into learning with a laugh
# Oh, winnow all my folly folly, folly
# And you'll find a grain or two of truth among the chaff!
# Oh, winnow all my folly folly, folly
# And you'll find a grain or two of truth among the chaff!
# I can set a braggart quailing with a quip
# The upstart I can wither with a whim
# He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip
# But his laughter has an echo that is grim
# When they're offered to the world in merry guise
# Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will
# For he who'd make his fellow fellow, fellow creatures wise
# Should always gild the philosophic pill!
# For he who'd make his fellow fellow, fellow creatures wise
# Should always gild the philosophic pill! #
APPLAUSE
And
And how
And how came
And how came you to leave your last employ? Why, sir, it was in this
wise. My Lord was the Archbishop of Canterbury, and it was considered
that one of my jokes was unsuited to His Grace's family circle. In
truth, I ventured to ask a poor riddle, sir. Wherein lay the
difference between His Grace and poor Jack Point? His Grace was
pleased to give it up, sir. And thereupon I told him that whereas
His Grace was paid �10,000 a year for being good, poor Jack Point was
good for nothing. 'Twas but a harmless jest, but it offended His
Grace, who whipped me and set me in the stocks for a scurril rogue, and
so we parted. I had as lief not take post again with the dignified
clergy. But I trust you are very careful not to give offence. I have
daughters. Sir, my jests are most carefully selected, and anything
objectionable is expunged. If your honour pleases, I will try them
first on your honour's chaplain. Can you give me an example? Say
that I had sat me down hurriedly on something sharp? Sir, I should say
that you had sat down on the spur of the moment. Humph! I don't think
much of that. Is that the best you can do? It has always been much
admired, sir, but we will try again. Well, then, I am at dinner, and the
joint of meat is but half cooked. Why then, sir, I should say that
what is underdone cannot be helped. I see. I think that manner of thing
would be somewhat irritating. first, sir, perhaps, but use is
everything, and you would come in time to like it. We will suppose
that I caught you kissing the kitchen wench under my very nose.
Under her very nose, good sir, not under yours! That is where I would
kiss her. Do you take me? Oh, sir, a pretty wit, a pretty, pretty wit!
The maiden comes. Follow me, friend, and we will discuss this matter at
length in my library. I am your worship's servant. That is to say,
I trust I soon shall be. But, before proceeding to a more serious
topic, can you tell me, sir, why a cook's brain-pan is like an
overwound clock? A truce to this fooling, follow me. Just my luck;
# That bearest in thy circlet # That lovers hope for
# What bringest thou to me but gold and sadness?
# A bridegroom all unknown save in this wise
# Today he dies!
# Today, alas, he dies!
# Though tear and long-drawn sigh Ill fit a bride
# No sadder wife than I The whole world wide!
# Ah, me! Ah, me!
# Yet maids there be
# Who would consent to lose
# The very rose of youth The flow'r of life
# To be, in honest truth
# A wedded wife
# No matter whose! No matter whose!
# Ah, me! What profit we
# O, maids that sigh
# Though gold Though gold should live
# If wedded love must die?
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
#
# Rejoice
# Rejoice #
# Rejoice
# Rejoice that
# Rejoice that yeah
# Rejoice that yeah have time to 'Tis an odd freak for a dying man
and his confessor to be closeted alone with a strange singing girl.
I would fain have espied them, but they stopped up the keyhole. My
keyhole. Wilfred, and alone! what could he have wanted with her?
That's what puzzles me. Now to get the keys from him. Wilfred, has no
reprieve arrived? None. Thine adored Fairfax is to die. Nay, thou
knowest that I have naught but pity for the poor condemned gentleman.
know that he who is about to die is more to thee than I, who am alive
and well. Why, that were out of reason, dear Wilfred. Do they not
say that a live ass is better than a dead lion? No, I didn't mean that.
Oh, they say that, do they? It's unpardonably rude of them, but I
believe they put it in that way. Not that it applies to thee, who
art clever beyond all telling. yes, as an assistant-tormentor.
as a wit, as a humorist, as a most philosophic commentator on the
vanity of human resolution. Truly, I have seen great resolution give
way under my persuasive methods, working a small thumbscrew. In the
nice regulation of a thumbscrew, in the hundredth part of a single
revolution lieth all the difference between stony reticence and a
torrent of impulsive unbosoming that the pen can scarcely follow.
Ha, ha, I am a mad wag. Thou art a most light-hearted and delightful
companion, Master Wilfred. Thine anecdotes of the torture-chamber
are the prettiest hearing. I'm a pleasant fellow an I choose. I
believe I am the very merriest dog that barks. Ah, we might be passing
happy together. Perhaps. I do not know. For thou wouldst make a most
tender and loving wife. Aye, to one whom I really loved. For there is a
wealth of love within this little heart - saving up for - I wonder
who? Now, by all the world of men, I wonder who? To think that he whom
I am to wed is alive and somewhere. Perhaps far away, perhaps close at
hand. And I know him not. It seemeth that I am wasting time in
not knowing him. Now say that it is I. Nay, suppose it for the nonce.
Say that we are wed. Suppose it only. Say that thou art my very
bride, and I thy cheery, joyous, bright and frolicsome husband, the
day's work being done, and the prisoners stored away for the night,
thou and I are alone together, with a long, long evening before us.
is a pretty picture, but I scarcely know. It cometh so unexpectedly.
And yet, and yet, were I thy bride Aye. Wert thou my bride? Oh, how I
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# As on her nest # The silvery flute
# To the soft thrill of wooing # Were leaden heaviness
# But then, of course, you see No, thou'rt not, not yet. But, Lord,
how she woo'd; I should be no mean judge of wooing, seeing that I have
been more hotly woo'd than most men. I have been woo'd by maid, widow,
and wife. I have been woo'd boldly, timidly, tearfully, shyly, by
direct assault, by suggestion, by implication, by inference, and by
innuendo. But this wooing is not of the common order. This is the
wooing of one who must needs woo me, The deed is, so far, safely
accomplished. The slyboots, how she wheedled him. What a helpless ninny
is a love-sick man. He is but as a lute in a woman's hands, she plays
upon him whatever tune she will. But the Colonel comes. I' faith,
he's just in time, for the Yeomen parade here for his execution in
two minutes. My good and kind friend, thou runnest a grave risk
for me. Tut, sir, no risk. I'll warrant none here will recognise
you. You make a brave Yeoman, sir. So, this ruff is too high, so and
the sword should hang thus. Here is your halbert, sir; carry it thus.
The Yeomen come. Now, remember, you are my brave son, Leonard. If I may
not bear mine own name, there is none other I would bear so readily.
Now, sir, put a bold face on it, # The welcome news
# Are echoed all the country through
# Has come to join the Tower Warders?
# If so, we come to meet him that we may fitly greet him
# And welcome his arrival here
# With shout on shout and cheer on cheer
# Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
# Ye Tower Warders nursed in war's alarms
# Suckled on gunpowder and weaned on glory
# Behold my son whose all-subduing arms
# Have formed the theme of many a song and story!
# Forgive his aged father's pride nor jeer
# His aged father's sympathetic tear!
# Leonard Meryll! Leonard Meryll!
# Dauntless he in time of peril!
# Man of power Knighthood's flower
# Welcome to the grim old Tower
# To the Tower, welcome thou!
# Forbear, my friends and spare me this ovation
# I have small claim to such consideration
# The tales that of my prowess are narrated
# Have been prodigiously exaggerated!
# Tis ever thus!
# Wherever valour true is found
# True modesty will there abound
# Didst thou not Oh, Leonard Meryll!
# Standard lost in last campaign
# Rescue it at deadly peril bear it safely back again?
# Leonard Meryll, at his peril bore it safely back again!
# Didst thou not when prisoner taken
# And debarred from all escape
# Face, with gallant heart unshaken
# Death in most appalling shape?
# Leonard Meryll, faced his peril
# Death in most appalling shape!
# Truly I was to be pitied
# Having but an hour to live
# I reluctantly submitted I had no alternative!
# Oh! The tales that are narrated
# Of my deeds of derring-do
# Have been much exaggerated Very much exaggerated
# Scarce a word of them is true!
# They are not exaggerated Not at all exaggerated
# Could not be exaggerated Ev'ry word of them is true!
# Don't you know me? I'm little Phoebe!
# Phoebe? Is this Phoebe? What! Little Phoebe?
# Who the deuce may she be? It can't be Phoebe, surely?
# Yes, tis Phoebe
# Your sister Phoebe! Your own little sister!
# Aye, he speaks the truth
# Tis Phoebe!
# Sister Phoebe!
# Oh, my brother!
# Why, how you've grown! I did not recognise you!
# So many years! Oh, brother!
# Oh, my sister!
# Aye, hug him, girl! There are three thou mayst hug
# Thy father and thy brother and myself!
# Thyself, forsooth? And who art thou thyself?
# Good sir, we are betrothed
# Or more or less but rather less than more!
# To thy fond care I do commend thy sister
# Be to her an ever-watchful guardian, eagle-eyed!
# And when she feels as sometimes she does feel
# Disposed to indiscriminate caress
# Be thou at hand to take those favours from her!
# Yes, yes
# Be thou at hand to take those favours from me!
# To thy fraternal care Thy sister I commend
# From every lurking snare Thy lovely charge defend
# And to achieve this end
# Oh! Grant, I pray, this boon
# Oh, grant this boon!
# She shall not quit my sight
# From morn to afternoon From afternoon to night
# From seven o'clock to two From two to eventide
# From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night
# She shall not quit thy side!
# From morn to afternoon From afternoon to night
# From seven o'clock to two From two to eventide
# She shall not quit thy side!
# So amiable I've grown So innocent as well
# That if I'm left alone The consequences fell
# No mortal can foretell
# So grant, I pray, this boon
# Oh, grant this boon!
# I shall not quit thy sight
# From morn to afternoon From afternoon to night
# From seven o'clock to two From two to eventide
# From dim twilight to 'lev'n at night
# I shall not quit thy side!
# From morn to afternoon From afternoon to night
# She shall not quit thy side!
# With brotherly readiness for my fair sister's sake
# At once I answer "Yes" That task I undertake
# My word I never break I freely grant that boon
# And I'll repeat my plight
# From morn to afternoon From afternoon to night
# From seven o'clock to two From two to evening meal
# From dim twilight to 'leven at night
# That compact I will seal
# From morn to afternoon From afternoon to night
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# The block, the headsman and the tomb
# The funeral bell begins to toll
# May heaven
# Have mercy on his soul!
# Oh, Mercy thou whose smile has shone
# So many a captive heart upon
# Of all immured within these walls
# Today the very worthiest falls!
# Oh, Mercy thou whose smile has shone
# So many a captive heart upon
# Of all immured within these walls
# Today the very worthiest falls
# My lord! I know not how to tell The news I bear!
# I and my comrades sought the prisoner's cell
# He is not there!
# They sought the prisoner's cell He is not there!
# As escort for the prisoner We sought his cell, in duty bound
# The double gratings open were No prisoner at all we found!
# We hunted high, we hunted low We hunted here, we hunted there
# The man we sought with anxious care
# Had vanished into empty air!
# Now, by my troth, the news is fair The man has vanished into air!
# As escort for the prisoner We sought his cell in duty bound
# The double gratings open were No prisoner at all we found!
# Astounding news! The pris'ner fled!
# Thy life shall forfeit be instead!
# My lord, I did not set him free I hate the man, my rival he!
# The prisoner gone, I'm all agape!
# Who could have helped him to escape?
# Indeed I can't imagine who! I've no idea at all, have you?
# Of his escape no traces lurk Enchantment must have been at work!
# What have I done? Oh, woe is me!
# I am his wife, and he is free!
# Oh, woe is you? Your anguish sink!
# Oh, woe is me, I rather think!
# Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
# Whate'er betide You are his bride
# And I am left alone - bereft!
# Yes, woe is me, I rather think!
# All frenzied with despair I rave
# The grave is cheated of its due
# Who is Who is the misbegotten knave
# Who hath contrived this deed to do?
# Let search be made throughout the land
# Or his vindictive anger dread
# A thousand marks I'll hand
# Who brings him here alive or dead
# Alive or dead!
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# Who brings him here And so with Elsie in a dead faint
and an eggs Cousiner with no-one to execute, that is the end of Act 1
of Gilbert and Sullivan's Yeoman of the Guard. -- executioner.
The BBC's Concert Orchestra and the BBC Singers on fine form.
Well confusion reigns at the end of Act 1. But it does seem that so far,
at least, the plot is working. The cast only came together a few days
ago to work under the expert guidance of director Martin Duncan
and conductor Jane Glover. We went to visit them in rehearsal at the
Watford cap Coliseum Gilbert and Sullivan is our musical heritage.
It is part of the landscape of the country. A celebration of all
things British. It takes all performances, everybody feels
identified with it. A lot of people will be brought up possibly hearing
it in their gieldhood or being part of -- in their childhood or being
part of Gilbert and Sullivan Societies.
I grew up with these people. I used to play my grandfather's LPs. I
still have these LPs in my collection now. They are sacred
things. I was hooked in. I think that's probably what got me into
theatre in the first place. WS's Gilbert's libretti, the use of
language is marvellous, clever and genuinely funny.
# You make me aware of his anger provoking...
# Practical joking. Whips and quidities and conundrums. And words
that we have to dive into a dictionary to find out what they
mean, but once you get them flowing on the tongue, they are marvellous
to keep. I should call it crawling. He was
creeping. He was creeping, creep. Crawling. He was creeping, creeping,
crawling. Where Sullivan is brilliant is allowing Gilbert's
words to come through. He was a great craftsman, Sullivan. I love
his orchestration. It is so clever. For all, he is parodying this, or
parodying Madrigal or a Donizetti aria, what yefrbgs even a wag
nearian march or a bit of Parsifal, it has its own footprint on it.
This piece, especially, is the nearest they got to Grand opera.
For the character I sing, Elsie Maynard, it is incredibly lyrical
and operatic. In some places, Act 2 of the Yeoman of the Guard
probably brings more surprises than Act 1. We get more confusion of who
knows what and who is married to who, and who thinks what. You need
to watch out for Jack Point and possibly an unexpected ending.
is a poignant moment. It is a great part of the opera for me to perform.
The Yeoman of the Guard is, for many people, their favourite
Gilbert and Sullivan, because it's got so many dimensions, that there
is this darkness to it, which So, expect a few more twists and
turns in Act 2. It's true, Yeoman of the Guard is not your usual
frothy and farcical Gilbert and Sullivan, so be prepared for a
bitter-sweet ending. The BBC Concert Orchestra and the BBC
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
Singers are poised for the second # He is free
# He is free # But all in vain
# Every house, every chink # Every chamber, every outlet
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# Spite of us all he is free The MerrieJestes of Hugh Ambrose,
No 7863.The Poor Wit and the Rich Councillor. A certayne poor wit,
being an-hungered, did meet a well- fed councillor. "Marry, fool",
quothe the councillor, "whither away?" "In truth," said the poor
wag, "in that I have eaten naught these two days, I do wither away,
and that right rapidly." The Councillor laughed hugely, and gave
him a sausage. The councillor was easier to please than my new master
the Lieutenant. I should like to take post under that councillor.
'tis but melancholy mumming when poor heart-broken, jilted Jack
Point must needs turn to Hugh Ambrose for original light humour!
Master Point! Friend jailer that wast. Jailer that never shalt be
more. Come, take heart, smile, laugh, wink, twinkle, thou
tormentor that tormentest none, thou racker that rackest not, thou
pincher out of place, come, take heart, and be merry, as I am. As I
am! Aye, it's well for thee to laugh. Thou hast a good post, and
hast cause to be merry. Cause? Have we not all cause? Is not the world
a big butt of humour, into with all who will may drive a gimlet? See, I
am a salaried wit, and is there aught in nature more ridiculous
than a poor, dull, heart-broken man, who must needs be merry, or he will
be whipped, who must rejoice, lest he starve, who must jest you, jibe
you, quip you, crank you, wrack you, riddle you, from hour to hour, from
day to day, from year to year, lest he dwindle, perish, starve, pine,
and die! Why, when there's naught else to laugh at, I laugh at myself
till I ache for it.! Yet I have often thought that a jester's
calling would suit me to a hair. Thee? Ha ha ha. Would suit thee,
thou death's head and cross-bones? Aye, I have a pretty wit, a light,
airy, joysome wit, spiced with anecdotes of prison cells and the
torture chamber. Oh, a very delicate wit! I have tried it on
many a prisoner, and there have been some who smiled. It is not
easy to make a prisoner smile. And it should not be difficult to be a
good jester, seeing that thou are one. Difficult? Nothing easier.
Nothing easier. Attend, and I will # Oh! A private buffoon
# From the morn' to the night # And he bubbles with wit
# Yet though people forgive # There are one or two rules
# That all family fools # Must observe if they love
# If you wish to succeed as a jester you'll need
# To consider each person's auricular
# What is all right for B would quite scandalise C
# For C is so very particular
# And D may be dull And E's very thick skull
# Is as empty of brains as a ladle
# While F is F-sharp and will cry with a carp
# That he's known your best joke from his cradle!
# When your humour they flout
# You can't let yourself go
# And it does put you out
# When a person says
# "Oh! I have known that old joke from my cradle!"
# If your master is surly from getting up early
# And tempers are short in the morning
# An inopportune joke is enough to provoke
# Him to give you at once a month's warning
# Then if you refrain he is at you again
# For he likes to get value for money
# He'll ask then and there with an insolent stare
# If you know that you're paid to be funny
# It adds to the tasks
# Of a merryman's place
# When your principal asks
# With a scowl on his face
# If you know that you're paid to be funny
# Comes a bishop, maybe or a solemn D-D
# Oh, beware of his anger provoking!
# Better not pull his hair
# Don't stick pins in his chair
# He don't understand practical joking
# If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack
# You may get a bland smile from these sages
# But should they, by chance be imported from France
# Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages!
# It's a general rule
# Though your zeal it may quench
# If the Family Fool
# Tells a joke that's too French
# Half-a-crown is stopped out of his wages!
# Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack
# And your senses with toothache you're losing
# Don't be mopy and flat They don't fine you for that
# If you're properly quaint and amusing!
# Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day
# And took with her your trifle of money
# Bless your heart, they don't mind
# They're exceedingly kind
# They don't blame you as long as you're funny!
# It's a comfort to feel
# If your partner should flit
# Though you suffer a deal
# They don't mind it a bit
# They don't blame you so long as you're funny! #
APPLAUSE
And
And so
And so thou
And so thou wouldst be a jester eh? Aye! $$WHTIE Now, listen, my
sweetheart, Elsie Maynard, was secretly wed to this Fairfax half
an hour ere he escaped. She did well. She did nothing of the kind,
so hold thy peace and perpend. Now, while he liveth she is dead to me
and I to her, and so, my jibes and jokes notwithstanding, I am the
saddest and the sorriest dog in England! Thou art a very dull dog
indeed. Now, if thou wilt swear that thou didst shoot this Fairfax
while he was trying to swim across the river, it needs but the
discharge of an arquebus on a dark night, and that he sank and was
seen no more, I'll make thee the very Archbishop of Jesters, and
that in two days' time. Now, what sayest thou? I am to lie?! Heartily.
But thy lie must be a lie of circumstance, which I will support
with the testimony of eyes, ears, and tongue. And thou wilt qualify
me as a jester? As a jester among jesters. I will teach thee all my
original songs, my self-constructed riddles, my own ingenious paradoxes.
Nay, more, I will reveal to thee the source whence I get them. Now,
what sayest thou? Why, if it be but a lie thou wantest of me, I hold it
cheap enough, and I say yes, it is # How this Fairfax died
# I to swear to! # I to swear to!
# In return for my own part # Wag-a-wagging
# What a tale of cock # What a tale of cock
# What a tale of cock Two days gone, and no news of poor
Fairfax. The dolts. They seek him everywhere save within a dozen
yards of his dungeon. So, I am free. Free! The Tower bonds were but a
thread of silk compared with these conjugal fetters which I, fool that
I was, placed upon mine own hands. From the one I broke readily enough.
# A pris'ner still? # Ah, is not one so tied
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
Well, Sergeant Meryll, and how fares thy pretty charge, Elsie
Maynard? Well enough, sir. She is quite strong again, and leaves us
tonight. Thanks to Dame Carruthers' kind nursing, eh? Aye, deuce take
the old witch. Ah, 'twas but a sorry trick you played me, sir, to
bring the fainting girl to me. It gave the old lady an excuse for
taking up her quarters in my house, and for the last two years I've
shunned her like the plague. Another day of it and she would
have married me! Good Lord, here she is again! I'll e'en go. Nay,
Sergeant Meryll, don't go. I have something of grave import to say to
thee. It's coming. I'faith, I think I'm, not wanted here. Nay, Master
Leonard, I've naught to say to thy father that his son may not hear.
True. I'm one of the family, I had forgotten. 'Tis about this Elsie
Maynard. A pretty girl, Master. fair as a peach blossom, what then?
She hath a liking for thee, or I mistake not. With all my heart.
She's as dainty a little maid as you'll find in a midsummer day's
march. Then be warned in time, and give not thy heart to her. Oh, I
know what it is to give my heart to one who will have none of it!
she knows all about that. And why is my boy to take heed of her?
She's a good girl, Dame Carruthers. Good enough, for aught I know. But
she's no girl. She's a married woman. A married woman. Tush, old
lady. She's promised to Jack Point, the Lieutenant's new jester. Tush
in thy teeth, old man. As my niece Kate sat by her bedside today, this
Elsie slept, and as she slept she moaned and groaned, and turned this
way and that way and, 'How shall I marry one I have never seen?' quoth
she. Then, 'An hundred crowns!' quoth she. Then, 'Is it certain he
will die in an hour?' quoth she. Then, 'I love him not, and yet I am
his wife,' quoth she. Is it not so, Kate? Aye, aunt, 'tis even so.
thou sure of all this? Aye, sir, for I wrote it all down on my
tablets. Now, mark my words, it was of this Fairfax she spake, and he
is her husband, or I'll swallow my kirtle. Is it true, sir? True? Why,
the girl was raving. Why should she marry a man who had but an hour to
live? Marry? There be those who would marry but for a minute,
rather than die old maids. Aye, I # Strange adventure!
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# Strange adventure So my mysterious bride is no other
than this winsome Elsie! By my hand, 'tis no such ill plunge in
Fortune's lucky bag. I might have fared worse with my eyes open. But
she comes. Now to test her principles. 'Tis not every husband
who has a chance of wooing his own wife! Mistress Elsie. Master
Leonard. So thou leavest us tonight? Yes, Master Leonard. I
have been kindly tended, and I almost fear I am loth to go.
this Fairfax, wast thou glad when he escaped? Why, truly, Master
Leonard, it is a sad thing that a young and gallant gentleman should
die in the very fullness of his life. Then when thou didst faint in
my arms, it was for joy at his safety? It may be so. I was highly
wrought, Master Leonard, and I am but a girl, and so, when I am
highly wrought, I faint. Now, dost thou know, I am consumed with a
parlous jealousy? Thou? And of whom? Why, of this Fairfax, surely.
Of Colonel Fairfax? Aye. Shall I be frank with thee? Elsie, I love thee,
ardently, passionately. Elsie, I have loved thee these two days,
which is a long time, and I would fain join my life to thine. Master
Leonard. Thou art jesting. Jesting? May I shrivel into raisins if I
jest. I love thee with a love that is a fever, with a love that is a
frenzy, with a love that eateth up my heart! What sayest thou? Thou
wilt not let my heart be eaten up? Oh, mercy! What am I to say? Dost
thou love me, or hast thou been insensible these two days? I love
all brave men. Nay, there is love in excess. I thank heaven there are
many brave men in England, but if thou lovest them all, I withdraw my
thanks. I love the bravest best. But, sir, I may not listen, I am
not free, I am a wife. Thou a wife? Whose? His name? His days are
numbered. Nay, his grave is dug and his epitaph set up. Come, his name?
Oh, sir, keep my secret. It is the only barrier that Fate could set up
between us. My husband is none other than Colonel Fairfax.
greatest villain unhung! The most ill-favoured, ill-mannered, ill-
natured, ill-omened, ill-tempered dog in Christendom. It is very like.
He is naught to me, for I never saw him. I was blindfolded, and he was
to have died within the hour; and he did not die and I am wedded to
him, and my heart is broken. He was to have died, and he did not die?
The scoundrel! The perjured, traitorous villain. Thou shouldst
have insisted on his dying first, to make sure. 'Tis the only way
with these Fairfaxes. I now wish I had. Bloodthirsty little maiden! Be
mine, he will never know, he dares not show himself and if he dare,
what art thou to him? Fly with me, Elsie, we will be married tomorrow,
and thou shalt be the happiest wife in England. Master Leonard, I am
amazed. Is it thus that brave soldiers speak to poor girls? Oh,
for shame, for shame. I am wed, not the less because I love not my
husband. I am a wife, sir. I have a duty. And, oh, sir, thy words
terrify me. They are not honest. They are wicked words, and unworthy
thy great and brave heart. Oh, shame upon thee. Shame upon thee.
Nay, Elsie, I did but jest. I spake # Hark!
# Fired from the wharf # Strange, and at such an hour!
# Now what can that have been A shot so late at night
# Enough to cause a fright! What can the portent mean?
# Are foeman in the land? Is London to be wrecked?
# What are we to expect? What danger is at hand?
# Let us understand what danger is at hand!
# Who fired that shot? At once the truth declare?
# My lord, twas I to rashly judge forebear!
# My lord, twas he to rashly judge forebear!
# Like a ghost his vigil keeping
# Or a spectre all-appalling
# I beheld a figure creeping
# I should rather call it crawling
# He was creeping
# He was crawling
# He was creeping, creeping
# Crawling!
# He was creeping
# He was crawling
# He was creeping, creeping
# Not a moment's hesitation I myself upon him flung
# With a hurried exclamation to his draperies I hung
# Then we closed with one another in a rough-and-tumble smother
# Colonel Fairfax and no other was the man to whom I clung!
# Colonel Fairfax and no other was the man to whom he clung!
# After mighty tug and tussle
# It resembled more a struggle
# He, by dint of stronger muscle
# Or by some infernal juggle
# From my clutches quickly sliding
# I should rather call it slipping
# With a view, no doubt, of hiding
# Or escaping to the shipping
# With a gasp and with a quiver
# I'd describe it as a shiver
# Down he dived into the river and, alas, I cannot swim
# It's enough to make one shiver With a gasp, and with a quiver
# Down he dived into the river It was very brave of him!
# Ingenuity is catching
# With the view my King of pleasing
# Arquebus from sentry snatching
# I should rather call it seizing
# With an ounce or two of lead
# I dispatched him through the head!
# With an ounce or two of lead
# He dispatched him through the head!
# I discharged it without winking
# Little time I lost in thinking
# Like a stone I saw him sinking
# I should say a lump of lead
# He discharged it without winking
# Little time he lost in thinking
# Like a stone I saw him sinking
# I should say a lump of lead
# Like a stone, my boy, I said
# Like a heavy lump of lead
# Anyhow, the man is dead
# Whether stone or lump of lead!
# Anyhow, the man is dead
# Whether stone or lump of lead!
# Arquebus from sentry seizing
# With the view his King of pleasing
# Wilfred shot him through the head
# And he's very, very dead!
# And it matters very little whether stone or lump of lead
# It is very, very certain that he's very, very dead!
# The river must be dragged No time be lost
# The body must be found at any cost
# To this attend without undue delay
# So set to work with what dispatch ye may!
# Yes, yes
# We'll set to work with what dispatch we may!
# Hail the valiant fellow who did this deed of derring-do!
# Honours wait on such an one by my head, twas bravely done
# Now, by my head twas bravely done! #
APPLAUSE
Nay,
Nay, sweetheart,
Nay, sweetheart, be
Nay, sweetheart, be comforted. This Fairfax was but a pestilent fellow,
and, as he had to die, he might as well die thus as any other way.
'Twas a good death. Still, he was my husband, and had he not been, he
was nevertheless a living man, and now he is dead; and so, by your
leave, my tears may flow unchidden, Master Point. And thou didst see
all this? Aye, with both eyes at once, this and that. The testimony
of one eye is naught. He may lie. But when it is corroborated by the
other, it is good evidence that none may gainsay. Here are both
present in court, ready to swear to him! But art thou sure it was
Colonel Fairfax? Saw you his face? Aye, and a plaguey ill-favoured
face too. A very hang-dog face. A felon face. A face to fright the
headsman himself, and make him strike awry. Oh, a plaguey, bad
face, take my word for it. How they laugh! 'Tis ever thus with simple
folk. An accepted wit has but to say 'Pass the mustard,' and they
roar their ribs out. If ever I come to life again, thou shalt pay for
this, Master Point! Now, Elsie, thou art free to choose again, so
behold me. I am young and well- favoured. I have a pretty wit. I
can jest you, jibe you, quip you, crank you, wrack you, riddle you.
Tush, man, thou knowest not how to woo.'Tis not to be done with time-
worn jests and thread-bare sophistries, with quips, conundrums,
rhymes, and paradoxes. 'Tis an art in itself, and must be studied
# Should 'prentice himself # And study all day
# How to flatter, cajole and persuade
# He should 'prentice himself at fourteen
# And practise from morning to e'en
# And when he's of age
# If he will, I'll engage
# He may capture the heart of a queen!
# It is purely a matter of skill
# He may capture the heart of a queen!
# It is purely a matter of skill
# Which all may attain if they will
# But every Jack He must study the knack
# If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
# If he's made the best use of his time
# His twig he'll so carefully lime
# That every bird will come down at his word
# Whatever its plumage and clime
# He must learn that the thrill of a touch
# May mean little or nothing or much
# It's an instrument rare
# To be handled with care
# And ought to be treated as such
# It is purely a matter of skill
# Which all may attain if they will
# But every Jack He must study the knack
# If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
# Then a glance may be timid or free
# It will vary in mighty degree
# From an impudent stare to a look of despair
# That no maid without pity can see!
# And a glance of despair is no guide
# It may have its ridiculous side
# It may draw you a tear
# Or a box on the ear
# You can never be sure till you've tried!
# Never be sure till you've tried!
# It is purely a matter of skill
# Which all may attain if they will
# But every Jack He must study the knack
# If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
If he wants to make sure of his Jill! #
# But every Jack He must study the knack
If he wants to make sure of his Jill! #
# But every Jack He must study the knack
If he wants to make sure of his Jill! #
APPLAUSE
Now,
Now, listen
Now, listen to
Now, listen to me, 'tis done thus. Mistress Elsie, there is one here
who, as thou knowest, loves thee right well. That he does, right
well! He is but a man of poor estate, but he hath a loving,
honest heart. He will be a true and trusty husband to thee, and if thou
wilt be his wife, thou shalt lie curled up in his heart, like a
little squirrel in its nest! 'Tis a pretty figure. A maggot in a nut
lies closer, but a squirrel will do. He knoweth that thou wast a wife,
an unloved and unloving wife, and his poor heart was near to breaking.
But now that thine unloving husband is dead, and thou art free, he
would fain pray that thou wouldst hearken unto him, and give him hope
that thou wouldst one day be his! He presses her hands, and whispers
in her ear. Odsbodikins, what does it mean? Now, sweetheart, tell me,
wilt thou be this poor good fellow's wife? If the good, brave
man, is he a brave man? So men say. That's not true, but let it pass.
If the brave man will be content with a poor, penniless, untaught
maid. Widow, but let that pass. will be his true and loving wife,
and that with my heart of hearts. My own dear love. Why, what's all
this? Brother, brother, it is not seemly. Oh, I can't let that pass.
Hold, enough, Master Leonard. An advocate should have his fee, but
methinks thou art over-paying thyself. Nay, that is for Elsie to
say. I promised thee I would show thee how to woo, and herein lies
the proof of the virtue of my teaching. Go thou, and apply it
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
And I helped that man to escape, and I've kept his secret, and
pretended that I was his dearly loving sister, and done everything
I could think of to make folk believe I was his loving sister,
and this is his gratitude. Before I pretend to be sister to anybody
again, I'll turn nun, and be sister to everybody, one as much as
another. In tears, eh? What a plague art thou grizzling for now?
Why am I grizzling? Thou hast often wept for jealousy. Well, 'tis for
jealousy I weep now. Aye, yellow, bilious, jaundiced jealousy. Make
the most of that, Master Wilfred. But I have never given thee cause
for jealousy. The Lieutenant's cook-maid and I are but the merest
gossips. Jealous of thee. Bah. I'm jealous of no craven cock-on-a-hill,
who crows about what he'd do an he dared! I am jealous of another and
a better man than thou. Set that down, Master Wilfred. And he is to
marry Elsie Maynard, the pale little fool. Set that down Master
Wilfred, and my heart is wellnigh broken! There, thou hast it all!
Make the most of it. The man thou lovest is to marry Elsie Maynard?
Why, that is no other than thy brother, Leonard Meryll. Oh, mercy!
What have I said? Why, what manner of brother is this, thou lying
little jade? Speak. Who is this man whom thou hast called brother, and
fondled, and coddled, and kissed, with my connivance. Oh Lord, with
my connivance. Should it be this Fairfax? It is. It's the cursed
Fairfax! It's Fairfax! Fairfax. Whom thou hast just shot through
the head, and who lies at the bottom of the river. Ah! I, I may
have been mistaken. We are but fallible mortals, the best of us.
But I'll make sure, I'll make sure. Stay. One word. I think it cannot
be Fairfax. Mind, I say I think, because thou hast just slain
Fairfax. But whether he be Fairfax or no Fairfax, he is to marry Elsie
and, and as thou hast shot him through the head, and he is dead,
be content with that, and I will be thy wife. Is that sure? Aye, for
sure enough, for there's no help for it. Thou art a very brute but
even brutes must marry, I suppose. My beloved. Ugh! Phoebe, rejoice,
for I bring glad tidings. Colonel Fairfax's reprieve was signed two
days since, but it was foully and maliciously kept back by Secretary
Poltwhistle, who designed that it should arrive after the Colonel's
death. It hath just come to hand, and it is now in the Lieutenant's
possession. Then the Colonel is free? Oh, kiss me, kiss me, my dear.
Kiss me, again, and again. bobs! Death o' my life! Art thou
mad? Am I mad? Are we all mad? my dear, my dear, I'm wellnigh
crazed with joy. Come away from him, thou hussy, thou jade, thou kissing,
clinging cockatrice. And as for thee, sir, devil take thee. I'll
rip thee like a herring for this. I'll skin thee for it. I'll cleave
thee to the chine. Oh, Phoebe. Phoebe, who is this man? Peace,
fool. He is my brother. Another brother. Are there any more of
them? Produce them all at once, and let me know the worst. This is the
real Leonard, dolt. The other was but his substitute. The real
Leonard, I say, my father's own son. How do I know this? Has he
"brother" writ large on his brow? I mistrust thy brothers. Thou art but
a false jade. Now, Wilfred, be just. Truly I did deceive thee before but
it was to save a precious life and to save it, not for me, but for
another. They are to be wed this very day. Is not this enough for
thee? Come, I am thy Phoebe, thy very own. And we will be wed in a
year, or two, or three, at the most. Is not that enough for thee? Phoebe,
hast thou heard the brave news? father. I'm nigh mad with joy. Why,
what's all this? Oh, father, he discovered our secret thorough my
folly, and the price of his silence is Phbe's heart. Oh, dear, no,
Phoebe's hand. It's the same thing. Is it? 'Tis a pity, but the Colonel
had to be saved at any cost, and as thy folly revealed our secret, thy
folly must e'en suffer for it. Dame Carruthers! So this is a plot to
shield this arch-fiend, and I have detected it. A word from me and
three heads besides his would roll from their shoulders. Nay, Colonel
Fairfax is reprieved. Yet, if my complicity in his escape were known.
Plague on the old meddler. There's nothing for it. Hush, pretty one,
Such bloodthirsty words ill become those cherry lips. Why, look ye,
chuck, for many a month I've thought to myself, there's snug
love saving up in that middle-aged bosom for some one, and why not for
thee - that's me - so take heart and tell her - that's thee - that
thou - that's me - lovest her - thee - and - and -well, I'm a
miserable old man, and I've done it- and that's me. But not a word
about Fairfax. The price of thy silence is - Meryll's heart?
Meryll's hand. It's the same thing. # When love's votary
# When humanity # Fate all flowery
# Fate all flowery # After tarrying
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# Comes the pretty young bride # Set all thy fears aside
# To whom thy lot # Flower of valour is he
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# Tis said that joy # That, other times
Apology for the loss of subtitles for 365 seconds
# If this be so # Yes, yes, with happiness
# Hold, pretty one! # News, good or ill
# And comes to claim his bride # No! No!
# Oh, day of terror! Day of tears!
# Claims thee as his bride?
# Appears to claim thee as his bride
# Day of terror! Day of tears!
# All thought of Leonard Meryll set aside
# Thou art mine own! I claim thee as my bride
# Thou art his own! Alas! He claims thee as his bride
# A suppliant at thy feet I fall
# Thine heart will yield to pity's call!
# Mine is a heart of massive rock unmoved by sentimental shock!
# Thy husband he!
# Leonard, my loved one, come to me They bear me hence away!
# But though they take me far from thee
# My heart is thine for thee!
# My bruised heart My broken heart
# Is thine, my own, for thee!
# But ere the fatal hour # That placed me in thy pow'r
# With happiness our soul is cloyed # With happiness
# With happiness # With happiness
# Attend to me # It is sung to the moon
# It's a song of a merryman moping mum
# Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
# Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love...
# Heighdy! Heighdy! Misery me, lack-a-day-dee!
# He sipped no sup and he craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# I have a song to sing, O!
# What is your song, O?
# It is sung with the ring of the song maids sing
# Who love with a love life-long, O!
# It's the song of a merrymaid nestling near
# Who loved her lord but dropped a tear
# At the moan of the merryman moping mum
# Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
# Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# Heighdy! Heighdy! Misery me, lack-a-day-dee!
# He sipped no sup and he craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# Heighdy! Heighdy!
# Heighdy! Heighdy! Misery me, lack-a-day-dee!
# He sipped no sup and he craved no crumb
# As he sighed for the love of a lady!
# Heighdy! Heighdy!
Heighdy! #
# Heighdy! Heighdy!
Heighdy! #
APPLAUSE
Is it? Not
Is it? Not quite
Is it? Not quite such
Is it? Not quite such a happy ending for poor love-lorn Jack
Point at the end there, of Gilbert and Sullivan's Yeoman of the Guard.
But a wonderful performance by this starry cast, conducted by Jane
Glover. Steven Whithman and Wayne Fitzerman, playing the first and
second citizens, Mary Bevan singing Kate. Jonathan McGovern and Marcus
Farnsworth the First and Second Yeomen. That's Tom Randle who sang
Leonard Meryll. Leigh Melrose singing Lieutenant Richard
Choldmondeley. Toby Staffrod-Allen - Wilfred Shadbolt That's Heather
Shipp, playing Phoebe Meryll. Mark Richardson playing her father. Dame
Felicity Palmer playing Dame Carruthers. Andrew Kennedy, Colonel
Fairfax. Lisa Milne, who was playing Elsie Maynard. And Mark
Ably supported, of course, by the BBC Concert Orchestra and the BBC
Singers. And that is Matthew Hamilton the chorus-master of the
BBC Singers, being acknowledged by Jane Glover. She's no stranger to
appearing in Gilbert and Sullivan. She appeared at university, in a
production directed by Mel Smith, won't you know. That's the director,
Martin Duncan, and his assistant- director there. All of them
enjoying this movement. -- this moment. We will be back as usual on
Thursday and Friday with more from the Proms on BBC Four and do join
us again on BBC Two next Saturday night for a real Proms treat. The