Arthur Sullivans Libretti in Englisch:



Utopia Limited

or the Flowers of Progress


Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan
Libretto by William S. Gilbert


King Paramount, the First (King of Utopia)
Scaphio and Phantis (Judges of the Utopian Supreme Court)
Tarara (The Public Exploder)
Calynx (The Utopian Vice-Chamberlain)

Imported Flowers of Progress:

Lord Dramaleigh (a British Lord Chamberlain)
Captain Fitzbattleaxe (First Life Guards)
Captain Sir Edward Corcoran, K.C.B. (of the Royal Navy)
Mr. Goldbury (a company promoter; afterwards Comptroller of the Utopian Household)
Sir Bailey Barre, Q.C., M.P.
Mr. Blushington (of the County Council)

The Princess Zara (eldest daughter of King Paramount)
The Princesses Nekaya and Kalyba (her Younger Sisters)
The Lady Sophy (their English Gouvernante)

Utopian Maidens:


ACT I – A Utopian Palm Grove

ACT II – Throne Room in King Paramount‘s Palace

First produced at the Savoy Theatre on October 7, 1893.




In lazy languor – motionless,
We lie and dream of nothingness;
For visions come
From Poppydom
Direct at our command:
Or, delicate alternative,
In open idleness we live,
With lyre and lute
And silver flute,
The life of Lazyland.

SOLO - Phylla.

The song of birds
In ivied towers;
The rippling play
Of waterway;
The lowing herds;
The breath of flowers;
The languid loves
Of turtle doves –
These simply joys are all at hand
Upon thy shores, O Lazyland!

(Enter Calynx)

Calynx: Good news! Great news! His Majesty‘s eldest daughter,
Princess Zara, who left our shores five years since to go to
England – the greatest, the most powerful, the wisest country
in the world – has taken a high degree at Girton, and is on
her way home again, having achieved a complete mastery over
all the elements that have tended to raise that glorious
country to her present pre-eminent position among civilized

Salata: Then in a few months Utopia may hope to be completely Angli-

Calynx: Absolutely and without a doubt.

Melene: (lazily) We are very well as we are. Life without a
care – every want supplied by a kind and fatherly monarch,
who, despot though he be, has no other thought than to make
his people happy – what have we to gain by the great change
that is in store for us?

Salata: What have we to gain? English institutions, English tastes,
and oh, English fashions!

Calynx: England has made herself what she is because, in that fa-
vored land, every one has to think for himself. Here we
have no need to think, because our monarch anticipates all
our wants, and our political opinions are formed for us by
the journals to which we subscribe. Oh, think how much more
brilliant this dialogue would have been, if we had been
accustomed to exercise our reflective powers! They say that
in England the conversation of the very meanest is a corus-
cation of impromptu epigram!

(Enter Tarara in a great rage)

Tarara: Lalabalele talala! Callabale lalabalica falahle!

Calynx: (horrified) Stop – stop, I beg! (All the ladies close their

Tarara: Callamalala galalate! Caritalla lalabalee kallalale poo!

Ladies: Oh, stop him! stop him!

Calynx: My lord, I‘m surprised at you. Are you not aware that His
Majesty, in his despotic acquiescence with the emphatic wish
of his people, has ordered that the Utopian language shall
be banished from his court, and that all communications
shall henceforward be made in the English tongue?

Tarara: Yes, I‘m perfectly aware of it, although – (suddenly present-
ing an explosive „cracker“). Stop – allow me.

Calynx: (pulls it). Now, what‘s that for?

Tarara: Why, I‘ve recently been appointed Public Exploder to His
Majesty, and as I‘m constitutionally nervous, I must accus-
tom myself by degrees to the startling nature of my duties.
Thank you. I was about to say that although, as Public
Exploder, I am next in succession to the throne, I neverthe-
less do my best to fall in with the royal decree. But when
I am overmastered by an indignant sense of overwhelming
wrong, as I am now, I slip into my native tongue without
knowing it. I am told that in the language of that great
and pure nation, strong expressions do not exist, conse-
quently when I want to let off steam I have no alternative
but to say, „Lalabalele molola lililah kallalale poo!“

Calynx: But what is your grievance?

Tarara: This – by our Constitution we are governed by a Despot who,
although in theory absolute – is, in practice, nothing of the
kind – being watched day and night by two Wise Men whose duty
it is, on his very first lapse from political or social
propriety, to denounce him to me, the Public Exploder, and
it then becomes my duty to blow up His Majesty with
dynamite – allow me. (Presenting a cracker which Calynx
pulls.) Thank you – and, as some compensation to my wounded
feelings, I reign in his stead.

Calynx: Yes. After many unhappy experiments in the direction of an
ideal Republic, it was found that what may be described as a
Despotism tempered by Dynamite provides, on the whole, the
most satisfactory description of ruler – an autocrat who
dares not abuse his autocratic power.

Tarara: That‘s the theory – but in practice, how does it act? Now,
do you ever happen to see the Palace Peeper? (producing a
„Society“ paper).

Calynx: Never even heard of the journal.

Tarara: I‘m not surprised, because His Majesty‘s agents always buy
up the whole edition; but I have an aunt in the publishing
department, and she has supplied me with a copy. Well, it
actually teems with circumstantially convincing details of
the King‘s abominable immoralities! If this high-class
journal may be believed, His Majesty is one of the most
Heliogabalian profligates that ever disgraced an autocratic
throne! And do these Wise Men denounce him to me? Not a
bit of it! They wink at his immoralities! Under the cir-
cumstances I really think I am justified in exclaiming
„Lalabelele molola lililah kalabalale poo!“ (All horri-
fied.) I don‘t care – the occasion demands it. (Exit Tarara)

(March. Enter Guard, escorting Scaphio and Phantis.)


O make way for the Wise Men!
They are the prizemen –
Double-first in the world‘s university!
For though lovely this island
(Which is my land),
She has no one to match them in her city.
They‘re the pride of Utopia –
Is each his mental fertility.
O they make no blunder,
And no wonder,
For they‘re triumphs of infallibility.

DUET – Scaphio and Phantis.

In every mental lore
(The statement smacks of vanity)
We claim to rank before
The wisest of humanity.
As gifts of head and heart
We wasted on „utility,“
We‘re „cast“ to play a part
Of great responsibility.

Our duty is to spy
Upon our King‘s illicites,
And keep a watchful eye
On all his eccentricities.
If ever a trick he tries
That savours of rascality,
At our decree he dies
Without the least formality.

We fear no rude rebuff,
Or newspaper publicity;
Our word is quite enough,
The rest is electricity.
A pound of dynamite
Explodes in his auriculars;
It‘s not a pleasant sight –
We‘ll spare you the particulars.

Its force all men confess,
The King needs no admonishing –
We may say its success
Is something quite astonishing.
Our despot it imbues
With virtues quite delectable,
He minds his P‘s and Q‘s, –
And keeps himself respectable.

Of a tyrant polite
He‘s paragon quite.
He‘s as modest and mild
In his ways as a child;
And no one ever met
With an autocrat yet,
So delightfully bland
To the least in the land!

So make way for the wise men, etc.

(Exeunt all but Scaphio and Phantis. Phantis is pensive.)

Scaphio: Phantis, you are not in your customary exuberant spirits.
What is wrong?

Phantis: Scaphio, I think you once told me that you have never loved?

Scaphio: Never! I have often marvelled at the fairy influence which
weaves its rosy web about the faculties of the greatest and
wisest of our race; but I thank Heaven I have never been
subjected to its singular fascination. For, oh, Phantis!
there is that within me that tells me that when my time does
come, the convulsion will be tremendous! When I love, it
will be with the accumulated fervor of sixty-six years! But
I have an ideal – a semi-transparent Being, filled with an
inorganic pink jelly – and I have never yet seen the woman
who approaches within measurable distance of it. All are
opaque – opaque – opaque!

Phantis: Keep that ideal firmly before you, and love not until you
find her. Though but fifty-five, I am an old campaigner in
the battle-fields of Love; and, believe me, it is better to
be as you are, heart-free and happy, than as I am – eternally
racked with doubting agonies! Scaphio, the Princess Zara
returns from England today!

Scaphio: My poor boy, I see it all.

Phantis: Oh! Scaphio, she is so beautiful. Ah! you smile, for you
have never seen her. She sailed for England three months
before you took office.

Scaphio: Now tell me, is your affection requited?

Phantis: I do not know – I am not sure. Sometimes I think it is, and
then come these torturing doubts! I feel sure that she does
not regard me with absolute indifference, for she could
never look at me without having to go to bed with a sick

Scaphio: That is surely something. Come, take heart, boy! you are
young and beautiful. What more could maiden want?

Phantis: Ah! Scaphio, remember she returns from a land where every
youth is as a young Greek god, and where such beauty as I
can boast is seen at every turn.

Scaphio: Be of good cheer! Marry her, boy, if so your fancy wills,
and be sure that love will come.

Phantis: (overjoyed) Then you will assist me in this?

Scaphio: Why, surely! Silly one, what have you to fear? We have but
to say the word, and her father must consent. Is he not our
very slave? Come, take heart. I cannot bear to see you

Phantis: Now I may hope, indeed! Scaphio, you have placed me on the
very pinnacle of human joy!

DUET – Scaphio and Phantis.

Scaphio: Let all your doubts take wing –
Our influence is great.
If Paramount our King
Presume to hesitate
Put on the screw,
And caution him
That he will rue
Disaster grim
That must ensue
To life and limb,
Should he pooh-pooh
This harmless whim.

Both: This harmless whim – this harmless whim,
It is as I/you say, a harmless whim.

Phantis: (dancing) Observe this dance
Which I employ
When I, by chance
Go mad with joy.
What sentiment
Does this express?

(Phantis continues his dance while Scaphio vainly endeavors to discover
its meaning)

Supreme content
And happiness!

Both: Of course it does! Of course it does!
Supreme content and happiness.

Phantis: Your friendly aid conferred,
I need no longer pine.
I‘ve but to speak the word,
And lo, the maid is mine!
I do not choose
To be denied.
Or wish to lose
A lovely bride –
If to refuse
The King decide,
The royal shoes
Then woe betide!

Both: Then woe betide – then woe betide!
The Royal shoes then woe betide!

Scaphio: (Dancing) This step to use
I condescend
Whene‘er I choose
To serve a friend.
What it implies
Now try to guess;

(Scaphio continues his dance while Phantis is vainly endeavouring to
discover its meaning)

It typifies

Both: (Dancing) Of course it does! Of course it does!
It typifies unselfishness.

(Exeunt Scaphio and Phantis.)

March. Enter King Paramount, attended by guards and nobles, and preced-
ed by girls dancing before him.


Quaff the nectar – cull the roses –
Gather fruit and flowers in plenty!
For our king no longer poses –
Sing the songs of far niente!
Wake the lute that sets us lilting,
Dance a welcome to each comer;
Day by day our year is wilting –
Sing the sunny songs of summer!
La, la, la, la!

SOLO – King.

A King of autocratic power we –
A despot whose tyrannic will is law –
Whose rule is paramount o‘er land and sea,
A presence of unutterable awe!
But though the awe that I inspire
Must shrivel with imperial fire
All foes whom it may chance to touch,
To judge by what I see and hear,
It does not seem to interfere
With popular enjoyment, much.

Chorus: No, no – it does not interfere
With our enjoyment much.

Stupendous when we rouse ourselves to strike,
Resistless when our tyrant thunder peals,
We often wonder what obstruction‘s like,
And how a contradicted monarch feels.
But as it is our Royal whim
Our Royal sails to set and trim
To suit whatever wind may blow –
What buffets contradiction deals
And how a thwarted monarch feels
We probably will never know.

Chorus: No, no – what thwarted monarch feels,
You‘ll never, never know.


My subjects all, it is your with emphatic
That all Utopia shall henceforth be modelled
Upon that glorious country called Great Britain –
To which some add – but others do not – Ireland.

Chorus: It is!

King: That being so, as you insist upon it,
We have arranged that our two younger daughters
Who have been „finished“ by an English Lady –
(tenderly) A grave and good and gracious English Lady –
Shall daily be exhibited in public,
That all may learn what, from the English standpoint,
Is looked upon as maidenly perfection!
Come hither, daughters!

(Enter Nekaya and Kalyba. They are twins, about fifteen years old; they
are very modest and demure in their appearance, dress and manner.
They stand with their hands folded and their eyes cast down.)


How fair! how modest! how discreet!
How bashfully demure!
See how they blush, as they‘ve been taught,
At this publicity unsought!
How English and how pure!

DUET – Nekaya and Kalyba.

Both: Although of native maids the cream,
We‘re brought up on the English scheme –
The best of all
For great and small
Who modesty adore.

Nek: For English girls are good as gold,
Extremely modest (so we‘re told)
Demurely coy – divinely cold –
And that we are – and more.

Kal: To please papa, who argues thus –
All girls should mould themselves on us
Because we are
By furlongs far
The best of the bunch,
We show ourselves to loud applause
From ten to four without a pause –

Nek: Which is an awkward time because
It cuts into our lunch.

Both: Oh maids of high and low degree,
Whose social code is rather free,
Please look at us and you will see
What good young ladies ought to be!

Nek: And as we stand, like clockwork toys,
A lecturer whom papa employs
Proceeds to prussia
Our modest ways
And guileless character –

Kal: Our well-known blush – our downcast eyes –
Our famous look of mild surprise.

Nek: (Which competition still defies) –
Our celebrated „Sir!!!“

Kal: Then all the crowd take down our looks
In pocket memorandum books.
To diagnose
Our modest pose
The Kodaks do their best:

Nek: If evidence you would possess
Of what is maiden bashfulness
You need only a button press –

Kal: And we will do the rest.

Enter Lady Sophy – an English lady of mature years and extreme gravity
of demeanour and dress. She carries a lecturer‘s wand in her
hand. She is led on by the King, who expresses great regard and
admiration for her.


This morning we propose to illustrate
A course of maiden courtship, from the start
To the triumphant matrimonial finish.

(Through the following song the two Princesses illustrate in gesture
the description given by Lady Sophy.)

SONG – Lady Sophy

Bold-faced ranger
(Perfect stranger)
Meets two well-behaved young ladies.
He‘s attractive,
Young and active –
Each a little bit afraid is.
Youth advances,
At his glances
To their danger they awaken;
They repel him
As they tell him
He is very much mistaken.
Though they speak to him politely,
Please observe they‘re sneering slightly,
Just to show he‘s acting vainly.
This is Virtue saying plainly
„Go away, young bachelor,
We are not what you take us for!“
When addressed impertinently,
English ladies answer gently,
„Go away, young bachelor,
We are not what you take us for!“

As he gazes,
Hat he raises,
Enters into conversation.
Makes excuses –
This produces
Interesting agitation.
He, with daring,
Give his card – his rank discloses
Little heeding
This proceeding,
They turn up their little noses.
Pray observe this lesson vital –
When a man of rank and title
His position first discloses,
Always cock your little noses.
When at home, let all the class
Try this in the looking glass.
English girls of well bred notions,
Shun all unrehearsed emotions.
English girls of highest class
Practice them before the glass.

His intentions
Then he mentions.
Something definite to go on –
Makes recitals
Of his titles,
Hints at settlements, and so on.
Smiling sweetly,
They, discreetly,
Ask for further evidences:
Thus invited,
He, delighted,
Gives the usual references:
This is business. Each is fluttered
When the offer‘s fairly uttered.
„Which of them has his affection?“
He declines to make selection.
Do they quarrel for his dross?
Not a bit of it – they toss!
Please observe this cogent moral –
English ladies never quarrel.
When a doubt they come across,
English ladies always toss.


The lecture‘s ended. In ten minute‘s space
‚Twill be repeated in the market-place!

(Exit Lady Sophy, followed by Nekaya and Kalyba.)

Chorus: Quaff the nectar – cull the roses –
Bashful girls will soon be plenty!
Maid who thus at fifteen poses
Ought to be divine at twenty!

(Exeunt all but KING.)

King: I requested Scaphio and Phantis to be so good as to favor me
with an audience this morning. (Enter SCAPHIO and PHANTIS.)
Oh, here they are!

Scaphio: Your Majesty wished to speak with us, I believe. You – you
needn‘t keep your crown on, on our account, you know.

King: I beg your pardon. (Removes it.) I always forget that!
Odd, the notion of a King not being allowed to wear one of
his own crowns in the presence of two of his own subjects.

Phantis: Yes – bizarre, is it not?

King: Most quaint. But then it‘s a quaint world.

Phantis: Teems with quiet fun. I often think what a lucky thing it
is that you are blessed with such a keen sense of humor!

King: Do you know, I find it invaluable. Do what I will, I cannot
help looking at the humorous side of things – for, properly
considered, everything has its humorous side – even the
Palace Peeper (producing it). See here – “Another Royal
Scandal,“ by Junius Junior. „How long is this to last?“ by
Senex Senior. „Ribald Royalty,“ by Mercury Major. „Where
is the Public Exploder?“ by Mephistopheles Minor. When I
reflect that all these outrageous attacks on my morality are
written by me, at your command – well, it‘s one of the funni-
est things that have come within the scope of my experience.

Scaphio: Besides, apart from that, they have a quiet humor of their
own which is simply irresistible.

King: (gratified) Not bad, I think. Biting, trenchant
sarcasm – the rapier, not the bludgeon – that‘s my line. But
then it‘s so easy – I‘m such a good subject – a bad King but a
good Subject – ha! ha! – a capital heading for next week‘s
leading article! (makes a note) And then the stinging
little paragraphs about our Royal goings-on with our Royal
Second Housemaid – delicately sub-acid, are they not?

Scaphio: My dear King, in that kind of thing no one can hold a candle
to you.

Phantis: But the crowning joke is the Comic Opera you‘ve written for
us – “King Tuppence, or A Good Deal Less than Half a Sover-
eign“ – in which the celebrated English tenor, Mr. Wilkinson,
burlesques your personal appearance and gives grotesque
imitations of your Royal peculiarities. It‘s immense!

King: Ye – es – That‘s what I wanted to speak to you about. Now
I‘ve not the least doubt but that even that has its humorous
side too – if one could only see it. As a rule I‘m pretty
quick at detecting latent humor – but I confess I do not
quite see where it comes in, in this particular instance.
It‘s so horribly personal!

Scaphio: Personal? Yes, of course it‘s personal – but consider the
antithetical humor of the situation.

King: Yes. I – I don‘t think I‘ve quite grasped that.

Scaphio: No? You surprise me. Why, consider. During the day thou-
sands tremble at your frown, during the night (from 8 to 11)
thousands roar at it. During the day your most arbitrary
pronouncements are received by your subjects with abject
submission – during the night, they shout with joy at your
most terrible decrees. It‘s not every monarch who enjoys
the privilege of undoing by night all the despotic absurdi-
ties he‘s committed during the day.

King: Of course! Now I see it! Thank you very much. I was sure
it had its humorous side, and it was very dull of me not to
have seen it before. But, as I said just now, it‘s a quaint

Phantis: Teems with quiet fun.

King: Yes. Properly considered, what a farce life is, to be sure!

SONG – King.

First you‘re born – and I‘ll be bound you
Find a dozen strangers round you.
„Hallo,“ cries the new-born baby,
„Where‘s my parents? which may they be?“
Awkward silence – no reply –
Puzzled baby wonders why!
Father rises, bows politely –
Mother smiles (but not too brightly) –
Doctor mumbles like a dumb thing –
Nurse is busy mixing something. –
Every symptom tends to show
You‘re decidedly de trop –

All: Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!
Time‘s teetotum,
If you spin it,
Gives it quotum
Once a minute.
I‘ll go bail
You hit the nail,
And if you fail,
The deuce is in it!

King: You grow up and you discover
What it is to be a lover.
Some young lady is selected –
Poor, perhaps, but well-connected.
Whom you hail (for Love is blind)
As the Queen of fairy kind.
Though she‘s plain – perhaps unsightly,
Makes her face up – laces tightly,
In her form your fancy traces
All the gifts of all the graces.
Rivals none the maiden woo,
So you take her and she takes you.

All: Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!
Joke beginning,
Never ceases
Till your inning
Time releases,
On your way
You blindly stray,
And day by day
The joke increases!

King: Ten years later – Time progresses –
Sours your temper – thins your tresses;
Fancy, then, her chain relaxes;
Rates are facts and so are taxes.
Fairy Queen‘s no longer young –
Fairy Queen has got a tongue.
Twins have probably intruded –
Quite unbidden – just as you did –
They‘re a source of care and trouble –
Just as you were – only double.
Comes at last the final stroke –
Time has had its little joke!

All: Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!
Daily driven
(Wife as drover)
Ill you‘ve thriven –
Ne‘er in clover;
Lastly, when
Three-score and ten
(And not till then),
The joke is over!
Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!
Then – and then
The joke is over!

(Exeunt Scaphio and Phantis.)

King: (putting on his crown again) It‘s all very well. I always
like to look on the humorous side of things; but I do not
think I ought to be required to write libels on my own moral
character. Naturally, I see the joke of it – anybody
would – but Zara‘s coming home today; she‘s no longer a
child, and I confess I should not like her to see my
Opera – though it‘s uncommonly well written; and I should be
sorry if the Palace Peeper got into her hands – though it‘s
certainly smart – very smart indeed. It is almost a pity
that I have to buy up the whole edition, because it‘s really
too good to be lost. And Lady Sophy – that blameless type of
perfect womanhood! Great Heavens, what would she say if the
Second Housemaid business happened to meet her pure blue
eye! (Enter Lady Sophy)

Lady S.: My monarch is soliloquizing. I will withdraw. (going)

King: No – pray don‘t go. Now I‘ll give you fifty chances, and you
won‘t guess whom I was thinking of.

Lady S.: Alas, sir, I know too well. Ah! King, it‘s an old, old
story, and I‘m wellnigh weary of it! Be warned in
time – from my heart I pity you, but I am not for you!

King: But hear what I have to say.

Lady S.: It is useless. Listen. In the course of a long and adven-
turous career in the principal European Courts, it has been
revealed to me that I unconsciously exercise a weird and
supernatural fascination over all Crowned Heads. So irre-
sistible is this singular property, that there is not a
European Monarch who has not implored me, with tears in his
eyes, to quit his kingdom, and take my fatal charms else-
where. As time was getting on it occurred to me that by
descending several pegs in the scale of Respectability I
might qualify your Majesty for my hand. Actuated by this
humane motive and happening to possess Respectability enough
for Six, I consented to confer Respectability enough for
Four upon your two younger daughters – but although I have,
alas, only Respectability enough for Two left, there is
still, as I gather from the public press of this country
(producing the Palace Peeper), a considerable balance in my

King: (aside) Damn! (aloud) May I ask how you came by this?

Lady S.: It was handed to me by the officer who holds the position of
Public Exploder to your Imperial Majesty.

King: And surely, Lady Sophy, surely you are not so unjust as to
place any faith in the irresponsible gabble of the Society

Lady S.: (referring to paper) I read on the authority of Senex
Senior that your Majesty was seen dancing with your Second
Housemaid on the Oriental Platform of the Tivoli Gardens.
That is untrue?

King: Absolutely. Our Second Housemaid has only one leg.

Lady S.: (suspiciously) How do you know that?

King: Common report. I give you my honor.

Lady S.: It may be so. I further read – and the statement is vouched
for by no less an authority that Mephistopheles Minor – that
your Majesty indulges in a bath of hot rum-punch every
morning. I trust I do not lay myself open to the charge of
displaying an indelicate curiosity as to the mysteries of
the royal dressing-room when I ask if there is any founda-
tion for this statement?

King: None whatever. When our medical adviser exhibits rum-punch
it is as a draught, not as a fomentation. As to our bath,
our valet plays the garden hose upon us every morning.

Lady S.: (shocked) Oh, pray – pray spare me these unseemly details.
Well, you are a Despot – have you taken steps to slay this

King: Well, no – I have not gone so far as that. After all, it‘s
the poor devil‘s living, you know.

Lady S.: It is the poor devil‘s living that surprises me. If this
man lies, there is no recognized punishment that is suffi-
ciently terrible for him.

King: That‘s precisely it. I – I am waiting until a punishment is
discovered that will exactly meet the enormity of the case.
I am in constant communication with the Mikado of Japan, who
is a leading authority on such points; and, moreover, I have
the ground plans and sectional elevations of several capital
punishments in my desk at this moment. Oh, Lady Sophy, as
you are powerful, be merciful!

DUET – King and Lady Sophy.

King: Subjected to your heavenly gaze
(Poetical phrase),
My brain is turned completely.
Observe me now
No monarch I vow,
Was ever so afflicted!

Lady S: I‘m pleased with that poetical phrase,
„A heavenly gaze,“
But though you put it neatly,
Say what you will,
These paragraphs still
Remain uncontradicted.

Come, crush me this contemptible worm
(A forcible term),
If he‘s assailed you wrongly.
The rage display,
Which, as you say,
Has moved your Majesty lately.

King: Though I admit that forcible term
„Contemptible worm,“
Appeals to me most strongly,
To treat this pest
As you suggest
Would pain my Majesty greatly.

Lady S: This writer lies!
King: Yes, bother his eyes!
Lady S: He lives, you say?
King: In a sort of way.
Lady S: Then have him shot.
King: Decidedly not.
Lady S: Or crush him flat.
King: I cannot do that.
Both: O royal Rex,
My/her blameless sex
Abhors such conduct shady.
You/I plead in vain,
I/you will never gain
Respectable English lady!

(Dance of repudiation by Lady Sophy. Exit followed by King.)

March. Enter all the Court, heralding the arrival of the Princess Zara,
who enters, escorted by Captain Fitzbattleaxe and four Troopers, all
in the full uniform of the First Life Guards.


Oh, maiden, rich
In Girton lore
That wisdom which,
We prized before,
We do confess
Is nothingness,
And rather less,
Perhaps, than more.
On each of us
Thy learning shed.
On calculus
May we be fed.
And teach us, please,
To speak with ease,
All languages,
Alive and dead!

SOLO – Princess and Chorus

Zara: Five years have flown since I took wing –
Time flies, and his footstep ne‘er retards –
I‘m the eldest daughter of your King.

Troop: And we are her escort – First Life Guards!
On the royal yacht,
When the waves were white,
In a helmet hot
And a tunic tight,
And our great big boots,
We defied the storm;
For we‘re not recruits,
And his uniform
A well drilled trooper ne‘er discards –
And we are her escort – First Life Guards!

Zara: These gentlemen I present to you,
The pride and boast of their barrack-yards;
They‘ve taken, O! such care of me!

Troop: For we are her escort – First Life Guards!
When the tempest rose,
And the ship went so –
Do you suppose
We were ill? No, no!
Though a qualmish lot
In a tunic tight,
And a helmet hot,
And a breastplate bright
(Which a well-drilled trooper ne‘er discards),
We stood as her escort – First Life Guards!


Knightsbridge nursemaids – serving fairies –
Stars of proud Belgravian airies;
At stern duty‘s call you leave them,
Though you know how that must grieve them!

Zara: Tantantarara-rara-rara!

Fitz: Trumpet-call of Princess Zara!

Cho: That‘s trump-call, and they‘re all trump cards –
They are her escort – First Life Guards!


Chorus Princess Zara and Fitzbattleaxe

Ladies Oh! the hours are gold,
And the joys untold,
Knightsbridge nursemaids, etc. When my eyes behold
My beloved Princess;
Men And the years will seem
When the tempest rose, etc. But a brief day-dream,
In the joy extreme
Of our happiness!

Full Chorus: Knightsbridge nursemaids, serving fairies, etc.

(Enter King, Princess Nekaya and Kalyba, and Lady Sophy. As the King enters,
the escort present arms.)

King: Zara! my beloved daughter! Why, how well you look and how
lovely you have grown! (embraces her.)

Zara: My dear father! (embracing him) And my two beautiful
little sisters! (embracing them)

Nekaya: Not beautiful.

Kalyba: Nice-looking.

Zara: But first let me present to you the English warrior who
commands my escort, and who has taken, O! such care of me
during my voyage – Captain Fitzbattleaxe!

Troopers: The First Life Guards.
When the tempest rose,
And the ship went so –

(Captain Fitzbattleaxe motions them to be silent. The Troopers place
themselves in the four corners of the stage, standing at ease,
immovably, as if on sentry. Each is surrounded by an admiring
group of young ladies, of whom they take no notice.)

King: (to Capt. Fitz.) Sir, you come from a country where every
virtue flourishes. We trust that you will not criticize too
severely such shortcomings as you may detect in our
semi-barbarous society.

Fitz.: (looking at Zara) Sir, I have eyes for nothing but the
blameless and the beautiful.

King: We thank you – he is really very polite! (Lady Sophy, who has
been greatly scandalized by the attentions paid to the
Lifeguardsmen by the young ladies, marches the Princesses
Nekaya and Kalyba towards an exit.) Lady Sophy, do not leave

Lady S.: Sir, your children are young, and, so far, innocent. If
they are to remain so, it is necessary that they be at once
removed from the contamination of their present disgraceful
surroundings. (She marches them off.)

King: (whose attention has thus been called to the proceedings of
the young ladies – aside) Dear, dear! They really should-
n‘t. (Aloud) Captain Fitzbattleaxe –

Fitz.: Sir.

King: Your Troopers appear to be receiving a troublesome amount of
attention from those young ladies. I know how strict you
English soldiers are, and I should be extremely distressed
if anything occurred to shock their puritanical British

Fitz.: Oh, I don‘t think there‘s any chance of that.

King: You think not? They won‘t be offended?

Fitz.: Oh no! They are quite hardened to it. They get a good deal
of that sort of thing, standing sentry at the Horse Guards.

King: It‘s English, is it?

Fitz.: It‘s particularly English.

King: Then, of course, it‘s all right. Pray proceed, ladies, it‘s
particularly English. Come, my daughter, for we have much
to say to each other.

Zara: Farewell, Captain Fitzbattleaxe! I cannot thank you too em-
phatically for the devoted care with which you have watched
over me during our long and eventful voyage.

DUET – Zara and Captain Fitzbattleaxe.

Zara: Ah! gallant soldier, brave and true
In tented field and tourney,
I grieve to have occasioned you
So very long a journey.
A British warrior give up all –
His home and island beauty –
When summoned to the trumpet call
Of Regimental Duty!

Cho: Tantantara-rara-rara!
Trumpet call of the Princess Zara!


Men Fitz. and Zara (aside)

A British warrior gives up all, etc. Oh my joy, my pride,
My delight to hide,
Let us sing, aside,
Ladies What in truth we feel,
Let us whisper low
Knightsbridge nursemaids, etc. Of our love‘s glad glow,
Lest the truth we show
We would fain conceal.

Fitz.: Such escort duty, as his due,
To young Lifeguardsman falling
Completely reconciles him to
His uneventful calling.
When soldier seeks Utopian glades
In charge of Youth and Beauty,
Then pleasure merely masquerades
As Regimental Duty!

All: Tantantarara-rara-rara!
Trumpet-call of Princess Zara!


Men Fitz. and Zara (aside)

A British warrior gives up all, etc. Oh! my hours are gold,
And the joys untold,
When my eyes behold
Ladies My beloved Princess;
And the years will seem
Knightsbridge nursemaids, etc. But a brief day-dream,
In the job extreme
Of our happiness!

(Exeunt King and Zara in one direction, Lifeguardsmen and crowd in
opposite direction. Enter, at back, Scaphio and Phantis, who watch
Zara as she goes off. Scaphio is seated, shaking violently, and
obviously under the influence of some strong emotion.)

Phantis: There – tell me, Scaphio, is she not beautiful? Can you
wonder that I love her so passionately?

Scaphio: No. She is extraordinarily – miraculously lovely! Good
heavens, what a singularly beautiful girl!

Phantis: I knew you would say so!

Scaphio: What exquisite charm of manner! What surprising delicacy of
gesture! Why, she‘s a goddess! a very goddess!

Phantis: (rather taken aback) Yes – she‘s – she‘s an attractive girl.

Scaphio: Attractive? Why, you must be blind! – She‘s
entrancing – enthralling – intoxicating! (Aside) God bless
my heart, what‘s the matter with me?

Phantis: (alarmed) Yes. You – you promised to help me to get her
father‘s consent, you know.

Scaphio: Promised! Yes, but the convulsion has come, my good boy!
It is she – my ideal! Why, what‘s this? (Staggering)
Phantis! Stop me – I‘m going mad – mad with the love of her!

Phantis: Scaphio, compose yourself, I beg. The girl is perfectly
opaque! Besides, remember – each of us is helpless without
the other. You can‘t succeed without my consent, you know.

Scaphio: And you dare to threaten? Oh, ungrateful! When you came to
me, palsied with love for this girl, and implored my assis-
tance, did I not unhesitatingly promise it? And this is the
return you make? Out of my sight, ingrate! (Aside) Dear!
dear! what is the matter with me? (Enter Capt. Fitzbattleaxe
and Zara)

Zara: Dear me. I‘m afraid we are interrupting a tete-a-tete.

Scaphio: (breathlessly) No, no. You come very appropriately. To be
brief, we – we love you – this man and I – madly – passionately!

Zara: Sir!

Scaphio: And we don‘t know how we are to settle which of us is to
marry you.

Fitz.: Zara, this is very awkward.

Scaphio: (very much overcome) I – I am paralyzed by the singular
radiance of your extraordinary loveliness. I know I am
incoherent. I never was like this before – it shall not
occur again. I – shall be fluent, presently.

Zara: (aside) Oh, dear, Captain Fitzbattleaxe, what is to be

Fitz.: (aside) Leave it to me – I‘ll manage it. (Aloud) It‘s a
common situation. Why not settle it in the English fashion?

Both: The English fashion? What is that?

Fitz.: It‘s very simple. In England, when two gentlemen are in
love with the same lady, and until it is settled which
gentleman is to blow out the brains of the other, it is
provided, by the Rival Admirers‘ Clauses Consolidation Act,
that the lady shall be entrusted to an officer of Household
Cavalry as stakeholder, who is bound to hand her over to the
survivor (on the Tontine principle) in a good condition of
substantial and decorative repair.

Scaphio: Reasonable wear and tear and damages by fire excepted?

Fitz.: Exactly.

Phantis: Well, that seems very reasonable. (To Scaphio) What do you
say – Shall we entrust her to this officer of Household
Cavalry? It will give us time.

Scaphio: (trembling violently) I – I am not at present in a condition
to think it out coolly – but if he is an officer of Household
Cavalry, and if the Princess consents – -

Zara: Alas, dear sirs, I have no alternative – under the Rival
Admirers‘ Clauses Consolidation Act!

Fitz.: Good – then that‘s settled.

Fitzbattleaxe, Zara, Scaphio, and Phantis.

Fitz.: It‘s understood, I think, all round
That, by the English custom bound
I hold the lady safe and sound
In trust for either rival,
Until you clearly testify
By sword and pistol, by and by,
Which gentleman prefers to die,
And which prefers survival.


Sca. and Phan. Zara and Fitz

Its clearly understood all round We stand, I think, on safish ground
That, by your English custom bound Our senses weak it will astound
He holds the lady safe and sound If either gentleman is found
In trust for either rival, Prepared to meet his rival.
Until we clearly testify Their machinations we defy;
By sword or pistol, by and by We won‘t be parted, you and I –
Which gentleman prefers to die, Of bloodshed each is rather shy –
Which prefers survival. They both prefer survival

Phan.: If I should die and he should live
(aside to Fitz.) To you, without reserve, I give
Her heart so young and sensitive,
And all her predilections.

Sca.: If he should live and I should die,
(aside to Fitz.) I see no kind of reason why
You should not, if you wish it, try
To gain her young affections.


Sca. and Phant. Fitz and Zara

If I should die and you should live As both of us are positive
To this young officer I give That both of them intend to live,
Her heart so soft and sensitive, There‘s nothing in the case to give
And all her predilections. Us cause for grave reflections.
If you should live and I should die As both will live and neither die
I see no kind of reason why I see no kind of reason why
He should not, if he chooses, try I should not, if I wish it, try
To win her young affections. To gain your young affections!

(Exit Scaphio and Phantis together)

DUET – Zara and Fitzbattleaxe

Ensemble: Oh admirable art!
Oh, neatly-planned intention!
Oh, happy intervention –
Oh, well constructed plot!

When sages try to part
Two loving hearts in fusion,
Their wisdom‘s delusion,
And learning serves them not!

Fitz.: Until quit plain
Is their intent,
These sages twain
I represent.
Now please infer
That, nothing loth,
You‘re henceforth, as it were,
Engaged to marry both –
Then take it that I represent the two –
On that hypothesis, what would you do?

Zara. (aside): What would I do? what would I do?
(To Fitz.) In such a case,
Upon your breast,
My blushing face
I think I‘d rest – (doing so)
Then perhaps I might
Demurely say –
„I find this breastplate bright
Is sorely in the way!“

Fitz.: Our mortal race
Is never blest –
There‘s no such case
As perfect rest;
Some petty blight
Asserts its sway –
Some crumbled roseleaf light
Is always in the way!

(Exit Fitzbattleaxe. Manet Zara.)

(Enter King.)

King: My daughter! At last we are alone together.

Zara: Yes, and I‘m glad we are, for I want to speak to you very
seriously. Do you know this paper?

King: (aside) Da – ! (Aloud) Oh yes – I‘ve – I‘ve seen it. Where
in the world did you get this from?

Zara: It was given to me by Lady Sophy – my sisters‘ governess.

King: (aside) Lady Sophy‘s an angel, but I do sometimes wish
she‘d mind her own business! (Aloud) It‘s – ha! ha! – it‘s
rather humorous.

Zara: I see nothing humorous in it. I only see that you, the des-
potic King of this country, are made the subject of the most
scandalous insinuations. Why do you permit these things?

King: Well, they appeal to my sense of humor. It‘s the only
really comic paper in Utopia, and I wouldn‘t be without it
for the world.

Zara: If it had any literary merit I could understand it.

King: Oh, it has literary merit. Oh, distinctly, it has literary

Zara: My dear father, it‘s mere ungrammatical twaddle.

King: Oh, it‘s not ungrammatical. I can‘t allow that. Unpleas-
antly personal, perhaps, but written with an epigrammatical
point that is very rare nowadays – very rare indeed.

Zara: (looking at cartoon) Why do they represent you with such a
big nose?

King: (looking at cartoon) Eh? Yes, it is a big one! Why, the
fact is that, in the cartoons of a comic paper, the size of
your nose always varies inversely as the square of your
popularity. It‘s the rule.

Zara: Then you must be at a tremendous discount just now! I see a
notice of a new piece called „King Tuppence,“ in which an
English tenor has the audacity to personate you on a public
stage. I can only say that I am surprised that any English
tenor should lend himself to such degrading personalities.

King: Oh, he‘s not really English. As it happens he‘s a Utopian,
but he calls himself English.

Zara: Calls himself English?

King: Yes. Bless you, they wouldn‘t listen to any tenor who
didn‘t call himself English.

Zara: And you permit this insolent buffoon to caricature you in a
pointless burlesque! My dear father – if you were a free
agent, you would never permit these outrages.

King: (almost in tears) Zara – I – I admit I am not altogether a
free agent. I – I am controlled. I try to make the best of
it, but sometimes I find it very difficult – very difficult
indeed. Nominally a Despot, I am, between ourselves, the
helpless tool of two unscrupulous Wise Men, who insist on my
falling in with all their wishes and threaten to denounce me
for immediate explosion if I remonstrate! (Breaks down

Zara: My poor father! Now listen to me. With a view to remodel-
ling the political and social institutions of Utopia, I have
brought with me six Representatives of the principal causes
that have tended to make England the powerful, happy, and
blameless country which the consensus of European civiliza-
tion has declared it to be. Place yourself unreservedly in
the hands of these gentlemen, and they will reorganize your
country on a footing that will enable you to defy your
persecutors. They are all now washing their hands after
their journey. Shall I introduce them?

King: My dear Zara, how can I thank you? I will consent to any-
thing that will release me from the abominable tyranny of
these two men. (Calling) What ho! Without there! (Enter
Calynx) Summon my Court without an instant‘s delay!
(Exit Calynx)

Enter every one, except the Flowers of Progress.

Although your Royal summons to appear
From courtesy was singularly free,
Obedient to that summons we are here –
What would your Majesty?


My worthy people, my beloved daughter
Most thoughtfully has brought with her from England
The types of all the causes that have made
That great and glorious country what it is.

Chorus: Oh, joy unbounded!

Sca., Tar., Phan (aside). Why, what does this mean?


Attend to me, Utopian populace,
Ye South Pacific island viviparians;
All, in the abstract, types of courtly grace,
Yet, when compared with Britain‘s glorious race,
But little better than half clothed Barbarians!


Yes! Contrasted when
With Englishmen,
Are little better than half-clothed barbarians!

Enter all the Flowers of Progress, led by Fitzbattleaxe.

SOLOS – Zara and the Flowers of Progress.

(Presenting Captain Fitzbattleaxe)

When Britain sounds the trump of war
(And Europe trembles),
The army of the conqueror
In serried ranks assemble;
‚Tis then this warrior‘s eyes and sabre gleam
For our protection –
He represents a military scheme
In all its proud perfection!

Chorus: Yes – yes
He represents a military scheme
In all its proud perfection.
Ulahlica! Ulahlica! Ulahlica!

SOLO – Zara.

(Presenting Sir Bailey Barre, Q.C., M.P.)

A complicated gentleman allow to present,
Of all the arts and faculties the terse embodiment,
He‘s a great arithmetician who can demonstrate with ease
That two and two are three or five or anything you please;
An eminent Logician who can make it clear to you
That black is white – when looked at from the proper point of
A marvelous Philologist who‘ll undertake to show
That „yes“ is but another and a neater form of „no.“

Sir Bailey: Yes – yes – yes –
„Yes“ is but another and a neater form of „no.“
All preconceived ideas on any subject I can scout,
And demonstrate beyond all possibility of doubt,
That whether you‘re an honest man or whether you‘re a thief
Depends on whose solicitor has given me my brief.

Chorus: Yes – yes – yes
That whether your‘e an honest man, etc.
Ulahlica! Ulahlica! Ulahlica!

Zara: (Presenting Lord Dramaleigh and County Councillor)
What these may be, Utopians all,
Perhaps you‘ll hardly guess –
They‘re types of England‘s physical
And moral cleanliness.
This is a Lord High Chamberlain,
Of purity the gauge –
He‘ll cleanse our court from moral stain
And purify our Stage.

Lord D.: Yes – yes – yes
Court reputations I revise,
And presentations scrutinize,
New plays I read with jealous eyes,
And purify the Stage.

Chorus: Court reputations, etc.

Zara: This County Councillor acclaim,
Great Britain‘s latest toy –
On anything you like to name
His talents he‘ll employ –

All streets and squares he‘ll purify
Within your city walls,
And keep meanwhile a modest eye
On wicked music halls.

C.C.: Yes – yes – yes
In towns I make improvements great,
Which go to swell the County Rate –
I dwelling-houses sanitate,
And purify the Halls!

Chorus: In towns he makes improvements great, etc.
Ulahlica! Ulahlica! Ulahlica!

SOLO – Zara:

(Presenting Mr. Goldbury)

A Company Promoter this with special education,
Which teaches what Contango means and also Backwardation –
To speculators he supplies a grand financial leaven,
Time was when two were company – but now it must be seven.

Mr. Gold.: Yes – yes – yes
Stupendous loans to foreign thrones
I‘ve largely advocated;
In ginger-pops and peppermint-drops
I‘ve freely speculated;
Then mines of gold, of wealth untold,
Successfully I‘ve floated
And sudden falls in apple-stalls
Occasionally quoted.
And soon or late I always call
For Stock Exchange quotation –
No schemes too great and none too small
For Companification!

Chorus: Yes! Yes! Yes! No schemes too great, etc.
Ulahlica! Ulahlica! Ulahlica!

Zara: (Presenting Capt. Sir Edward Corcoran, R.N.)

And lastly I present
Great Britain‘s proudest boast,
Who from the blows
Of foreign foes
Protects her sea-girt coast –
And if you ask him in respectful tone,
He‘ll show you how you may protect your own!

SOLO – Captain Corcoran

I‘m Captain Corcoran, K.C.B.,
I‘ll teach you how we rule the sea,
And terrify the simple Gauls;
And how the Saxon and the Celt
Their Europe-shaking blows have dealt
With Maxim gun and Nordenfelt
(Or will when the occasion calls).
If sailor-like you‘d play your cards,
Unbend your sails and lower your yards,
Unstep your masts – you‘ll never want ‚em more.
Though we‘re no longer hearts of oak,
Yet we can steer and we can stoke,
And thanks to coal, and thanks to coke,
We never run a ship ashore!

All: What never?

Capt.: No, never!

All: What never?

Capt: Hardly ever!

All: Hardly ever run a ship ashore!
Then give three cheers, and three cheers more,
For the tar who never runs his ship ashore;
Then give three cheers, and three cheers more,
For he never runs his ship ashore!


All hail, ye types of England‘s power –
Ye heaven-enlightened band!
We bless the day and bless the hour
That brought you to our land.


Ye wanderers from a mighty State,
Oh, teach us how to legislate –
Your lightest word will carry weight,
In our attentive ears.
Oh, teach the natives of this land
(Who are not quick to understand)
How to work off their social and
Political arrears!

Capt. Fitz.: Increase your army!
Lord D.: Purify your court!
Capt. Corc: Get up your steam and cut your canvas short!
Sir B.: To speak on both sides teach your sluggish brains!
Mr. B.: Widen your thoroughfares, and flush your drains!
Mr. Gold.: Utopia‘s much too big for one small head –
I‘ll float it as a Company Limited!

King: A Company Limited? What may that be?
The term, I rather think, is new to me.

Chorus: A company limited? etc.

Sca, Phant, and Tara (Aside)
What does he mean? What does he mean?
Give us a kind of clue!
What does he mean? What does he mean?
What is he going to do?

SONG – Mr. Goldbury

Some seven men form an Association
(If possible, all Peers and Baronets),
The start off with a public declaration
To what extent they mean to pay their debts.
That‘s called their Capital; if they are wary
They will not quote it at a sum immense.
The figure‘s immaterial – it may vary
From eighteen million down to eighteenpence.
I should put it rather low;
The good sense of doing so
Will be evident at once to any debtor.
When it‘s left to you to say
What amount you mean to pay,
Why, the lower you can put it at, the better.

Chorus: When it‘s left to you to say, etc.

They then proceed to trade with all who‘ll trust ‚em
Quite irrespective of their capital
(It‘s shady, but it‘s sanctified by custom);
Bank, Railway, Loan, or Panama Canal.
You can‘t embark on trading too tremendous –
It‘s strictly fair, and based on common sense –
If you succeed, your profits are stupendous –
And if you fail, pop goes your eighteenpence.

Make the money-spinner spin!
For you only stand to win,
And you‘ll never with dishonesty be twitted.
For nobody can know,
To a million or so,
To what extent your capital‘s committed!

Chorus: No, nobody can know, etc.

If you come to grief, and creditors are craving
(For nothing that is planned by mortal head
Is certain in this Vale of Sorrow – saving
That one‘s Liability is Limited), –
Do you suppose that signifies perdition?
If so, you‘re but a monetary dunce –
You merely file a Winding-Up Petition,
And start another Company at once!
Though a Rothschild you may be
In your own capacity,
As a Company you‘ve come to utter sorrow –
But the Liquidators say,
„Never mind – you needn‘t pay,“
So you start another company to-morrow!

Chorus: But the liquidators say, etc.

King: Well, at first sight it strikes us as dishonest,
But if its‘s good enough for virtuous England –
The first commercial country in the world –
It‘s good enough for us.

Sca., Phan., Tar. (aside to the King)
You‘d best take care –
Please recollect we have not been consulted.

King: And do I understand that Great Britain
Upon this Joint Stock principle is governed?

Mr. G.: We haven‘t come to that, exactly – but
We‘re tending rapidly in that direction.
The date‘s not distant.

King: (enthusiastically) We will be before you!
We‘ll go down in posterity renowned
As the First Sovereign in Christendom
Who registered his Crown and Country under
The Joint Stock Company‘s Act of Sixty-Two.

All: Ulahlica!

SOLO – King

Henceforward, of a verity,
With Fame ourselves we link –
We‘ll go down to Posterity
Of sovereigns all the pink!

Sca., Phan., Tar.: (aside to King)
If you‘ve the mad temerity
Our wishes thus to blink,
You‘ll go down to Posterity,
Much earlier than you think!

Tar.: (correcting them)

He‘ll go up to Posterity,
If I inflict the blow!

Sca., Phan.: (angrily)

He‘ll go down to Posterity –
We think we ought to know!

Tar.: (explaining) He‘ll go up to Posterity,
Blown up with dynamite!

Sca., Phan.: (apologetically)

He‘ll go up to Posterity,
Of course he will, you‘re right!


King, Lady Sophy, Nek., Sca., Phan, and Tar Fitz. and Zara (aside)
Kal., Calynx and Chorus (aside)

Henceforward of a verity, If he has the temerity Who love with all sincerity;
With fame ourselves we Our wishes thus to blink Their lives may safely link.
link –
And go down to Posterity, He‘ll go up to Posterity And as for our posterity
Of sovereigns all pink! Much earlier than they We don‘t care what they think!


Let‘s seal this mercantile pact –
The step we ne‘er shall rue –
It gives whatever we lacked –
The statement‘s strictly true.
All hail, astonishing Fact!
All hail, Invention new –
The Joint Stock Company‘s Act –
The Act of Sixty-Two!





Scene – Throne Room in the Palace. Night. Fitzbattleaxe discovered,
singing to Zara.

RECITATIVE – Fitzbattleaxe.

Oh, Zara, my beloved one, bear with me!
Ah, do not laugh at my attempted C!
Repent not, mocking maid, thy girlhood‘s choice –
The fervour of my love affects my voice!

SONG – Fitzbattleaxe.

A tenor, all singers above
(This doesn‘t admit of a question),
Should keep himself quiet,
Attend to his diet
And carefully nurse his digestion;
But when he is madly in love
It‘s certain to tell on his singing –
You can‘t do the proper chromatics
With proper emphatics
When anguish your bosom is wringing!
When distracted with worries in plenty,
And his pulse is a hundred and twenty,
And his fluttering bosom the slave of mistrust is,
A tenor can‘t do himself justice,
Now observe – (sings a high note),
You see, I can‘t do myself justice!
I could sing if my fervour were mock,
It‘s easy enough if you‘re acting –
But when one‘s emotion
Is born of devotion
You mustn‘t be over-exacting.
One ought to be firm as a rock
To venture a shake in vibrato,
When fervour‘s expected
Keep cool and collected
Or never attempt agitato.
But, of course, when his tongue is of leather,
And his lips appear pasted together,
And his sensitive palate as dry as a crust is,
A tenor can‘t do himself justice.
Now observe – (sings a high note),
It‘s no use – I can‘t do myself justice!

Zara: Why, Arthur, what does it matter? When the higher qualities
of the heart are all that can be desired, the higher notes
of the voice are matters of comparative insignificance. Who
thinks slightingly of the cocoanut because it is husky? Be-
sides (demurely), you are not singing for an engagement
(putting her hand in his), you have that already!

Fitz.: How good and wise you are! How unerringly your practiced
brain winnows the wheat from the chaff – the material from
the merely incidental!

Zara: My Girton training, Arthur. At Girton all is wheat, and
idle chaff is never heard within its walls! But tell me, is
not all working marvelously well? Have not our Flowers of
Progress more than justified their name?

Fitz.: We have indeed done our best. Captain Corcoran and I have,
in concert, thoroughly remodeled the sister-services – and
upon so sound a basis that the South Pacific trembles at the
name of Utopia!

Zara: How clever of you!

Fitz.: Clever? Not a bit. It‘s easy as possible when the Admiral-
ty and Horse Guards are not there to interfere. And so with
the others. Freed from the trammels imposed upon them by
idle Acts of Parliament, all have given their natural tal-
ents full play and introduced reforms which, even in Eng-
land, were never dreamt of!

Zara: But perhaps the most beneficent changes of all has been ef-
fected by Mr. Goldbury, who, discarding the exploded theory
that some strange magic lies hidden in the number Seven, has
applied the Limited Liability principle to individuals, and
every man, woman, and child is now a Company Limited with
liability restricted to the amount of his declared Capital!
There is not a christened baby in Utopia who has not already
issued his little Prospectus!

Fitz.: Marvelous is the power of a Civilization which can trans-
mute, by a word, a Limited Income into an Income Limited.

Zara: Reform has not stopped here – it has been applied even to the
costume of our people. Discarding their own barbaric dress,
the natives of our land have unanimously adopted the taste-
ful fashions of England in all their rich entirety. Scaphio
and Phantis have undertaken a contract to supply the whole
of Utopia with clothing designed upon the most approved
English models – and the first Drawing-Room under the new
state of things is to be held here this evening.

Fitz.: But Drawing-Rooms are always held in the afternoon.

Zara: Ah, we‘ve improved upon that. We all look so much better by
candlelight! And when I tell you, dearest, that my Court
train has just arrived, you will understand that I am long-
ing to go and try it on.

Fitz.: Then we must part?

Zara: Necessarily, for a time.

Fitz.: Just as I wanted to tell you, with all the passionate enthu-
siasm of my nature, how deeply, how devotedly I love you!

Zara: Hush! Are these the accents of a heart that really feels?
True love does not indulge in declamation – its voice is
sweet, and soft, and low. The west wind whispers when he
woos the poplars!

DUET – Zara and Fitzbattleaxe.

Zara: Words of love too loudly spoken
Ring their own untimely knell;
Noisy vows are rudely broken,
Soft the song of Philomel.
Whisper sweetly, whisper slowly,
Hour by hour and day by day;
Sweet and low as accents holy
Are the notes of lover‘s lay.

Both: Sweet and low, etc.

Fitz: Let the conqueror, flushed with glory,
Bid his noisy clarions bray;
Lovers tell their artless story
In a whispered virelay.
False is he whose vows alluring
Make the listening echoes ring;
Sweet and low when all-enduring
Are the songs that lovers sing!

Both: Sweet and low, etc.

(Exit Zara. Enter King dressed as Field-Marshal.)

King: To a Monarch who has been accustomed to the uncontrolled use
of his limbs, the costume of a British Field-Marshal is,
perhaps, at first, a little cramping. Are you sure that
this is all right? It‘s not a practical joke, is it? No
one has a keener sense of humor than I have, but the First
Statutory Cabinet Council of Utopia Limited must be conduct-
ed with dignity and impressiveness. Now, where are the
other five who signed the Articles of Association?

Fitz.: Sir, they are here.

(Enter Lord Dramaleigh, Captain Corcoran, Sir Bailey Barre, Mr. Blushington, and
Mr. Goldbury from different entrances.)

King: Oh! (Addressing them) Gentlemen, our daughter holds her
first Drawing-Room in half an hour, and we shall have time
to make our half-yearly report in the interval. I am neces-
sarily unfamiliar with the forms of an English Cabinet
Council – perhaps the Lord Chamberlain will kindly put us in
the way of doing the thing properly, and with due regard to
the solemnity of the occasion.

Lord D.: Certainly – nothing simpler. Kindly bring your chairs
forward – His Majesty will, of course, preside.

(They range their chairs across stage like Christy Minstrels. King
sits center, Lord Dramaleigh on his left, Mr. Goldbury on his right,
Captain Corcoran left of Lord Dramaleigh, Captain Fitzbattleaxe right of
Mr. Goldbury, Mr. Blushington extreme right, Sir Bailey Barre extreme

King: Like this?

Lord D.: Like this.

King: We take your word for it that this is all right. You are
not making fun of us? This is in accordance with the prac-
tice at the Court of St. James‘s?

Lord D.: Well, it is in accordance with the practice at the Court of
St. James‘s Hall.

King: Oh! it seems odd, but never mind.

SONG – King.

Society has quite forsaken all her wicked courses.
Which empties our police courts, and abolishes divorces.

Chorus: Divorce is nearly obsolete in England.

King: No tolerance we show to undeserving rank and splendour;
For the higher his position is, the greater the offender.

Chorus: That‘s maxim that is prevalent in England.

King: No peeress at our drawing-room before the Presence passes
Who wouldn‘t be accepted by the lower middle-classes.
Each shady dame, whatever be her rank, is bowed out neatly.

Chorus: In short, this happy country has been Anglicized completely
Is really is surprising
What a thorough Anglicizing
We have brought about – Utopia‘s quite another land;
In her enterprising movements,
She is England – with improvements,
Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land!

King: Our city we have beautified – we‘ve done it willy-nilly –
And all that isn‘t Belgrave Square is Strand and Piccadilly.

Chorus: We haven‘t any slummeries in England!

King: The chamberlain our native stage has purged beyond a ques-
Of „risky“ situation and indelicate suggestion;
No piece is tolerated if it‘s costumed indiscreetly –

Chorus: In short this happy country has been Anglicized com-
It really is surprising, etc.

King: Our peerage we‘ve remodelled on an intellectual basis,
Which certainly is rough on our hereditary races –

Chorus: We are going to remodel it in England.

King: The Brewers and the Cotton Lords no longer seek admission,
And literary merit meets with proper recognition –

Chorus: As literary merit does in England!

King: Who knows but we may count among our intellectual chickens
Like you, an Earl of Thackery and p‘r‘aps a Duke of
Dickens –
Lord Fildes and Viscount Millais (when they come) we‘ll
welcome sweetly –

Chorus: In short, this happy country has been Anglicized completely!
It really is surprising, etc.

(At the end all rise and replace their chairs.)

King: Now, then for our first Drawing-Room. Where are the Prin-
cesses? What an extraordinary thing it is that since Euro-
pean looking-glasses have been supplied to the Royal bed-
rooms my daughters are invariably late!

Lord D.: Sir, their Royal Highnesses await your pleasure in the

King: Oh. Then request them to do us the favor to enter at once.

(Enter all the Royal Household, including (besides the Lord Chamber-
lain) the Vice-Chamberlain, the Master of the Horse, the Master
of the Buckhounds, the Lord High Treasurer, the Lord Steward, the
Comptroller of the Household, the Lord-in-Waiting, the Field
Officer in Brigade Waiting, the Gold and Silver Stick, and the
Gentlemen Ushers. Then enter the three Princesses (their trains
carried by Pages of Honor), Lady Sophy, and the

King: My daughters, we are about to attempt a very solemn ceremo-
nial, so no giggling, if you please. Now, my Lord Chamber-
lain, we are ready.

Lord D.: Then, ladies and gentlemen, places, if you please. His Maj-
esty will take his place in front of the throne, and will be
so obliging as to embrace all the debutantes. (LADY SOPHY
much shocked.)

King: What – must I really?

Lord D.: Absolutely indispensable.

King: More jam for the Palace Peeper!

(The King takes his place in front of the throne, the Princess Zara on
his left, the two younger Princesses on the left of Zara.)

King: Now, is every one in his place?

Lord D.: Every one is in his place.

King: Then let the revels commence.

(Enter the ladies attending the Drawing-Room. They give their cards
to the Groom-in-Waiting, who passes them to the Lord-in-Waiting,
who passes them to the Vice-Chamberlain, who passes them to the
Lord Chamberlain, who reads the names to the King as each lady
approaches. The ladies curtsey in succession to the King and the
three Princesses, and pass out. When all the presentations have
been accomplished, the King, Princesses, and Lady Sophy come
forward, and all the ladies re-enter.)


This ceremonial our wish displays
To copy all Great Britain‘s courtly ways.
Though lofty aims catastrophe entail,
We‘ll gloriously succeed or nobly fail!


Eagle High in Cloudland soaring –
Sparrow twittering on a reed –
Tiger in the jungle roaring –
Frightened fawn in grassy mead –
Let the eagle, not the sparrow,
Be the object of your arrow –
Fix the tiger with your eye –
Pass the fawn in pity by.
Glory then will crown the day –
Glory, glory, anyway!

Exit all.

Enter Scaphio and Phantis, now dressed as judges in red and ermine robes
and undress wigs. They come down stage melodramatically –
working together.

DUET – Scaphio and Phantis.

Sca.: With fury deep we burn

Phan.: We do –

Sca.: We fume with smothered rage –

Phan.: We do –

Sca.: These Englishmen who rule supreme,
Their undertaking they redeem
By stifling every harmless scheme
In which we both engage –

Phan.: They do –

Sca.: In which we both engage –

Phan.: We think it is our turn –

Sca.: We do –

Phan.: We think our turn has come –

Sca.: We do.

Phan.: These Englishmen, they must prepare
To seek at once their native air.
The King as heretofore, we swear,
Shall be beneath our thumb –

Sca.: He shall –

Phan.: Shall be beneath out thumb –

Sca.: He shall.

Both: (with great energy)
For this mustn‘t be, and this won‘t do.
If you‘ll back me, then I‘ll back you,
No, this won‘t do,
No, this mustn‘t be.
With fury deep we burn...

Enter the King.

King: Gentlemen, gentlemen – really! This unseemly display of
energy within the Royal precincts is altogether unpardon-
able. Pray, what do you complain of?

Scaphio: (furiously) What do we complain of? Why, through the
innovations introduced by the Flowers of Progress all our
harmless schemes for making a provision for our old age are
ruined. Our Matrimonial Agency is at a standstill, our
Cheap Sherry business is in bankruptcy, our Army Clothing
contracts are paralyzed, and even our Society paper, the
Palace Peeper, is practically defunct!

King: Defunct? Is that so? Dear, dear, I am truly sorry.

Scaphio: Are you aware that Sir Bailey Barre has introduced a law of
libel by which all editors of scurrilous newspapers are pub-
licly flogged – as in England? And six of our editors have
resigned in succession! Now, the editor of a scurrilous
paper can stand a good deal – he takes a private thrashing as
a matter of course – it‘s considered in his salary – but no
gentleman likes to be publicly flogged.

King: Naturally. I shouldn‘t like it myself.

Phantis: Then our Burlesque Theater is absolutely ruined!

King: Dear me. Well, theatrical property is not what it was.

Phantis: Are you aware that the Lord Chamberlain, who has his own
views as to the best means of elevating the national drama,
has declined to license any play that is not in blank verse
and three hundred years old – as in England?

Scaphio: And as if that wasn‘t enough, the County Councillor has or-
dered a four-foot wall to be built up right across the
proscenium, in case of fire – as in England.

Phantis: It‘s so hard on the company – who are liable to be roasted
alive – and this has to be met by enormously increased
salaries – as in England.

Scaphio: You probably know that we‘ve contracted to supply the entire
nation with a complete English outfit. But perhaps you do
not know that, when we send in our bills, our customers
plead liability limited to a declared capital of
eighteenpence, and apply to be dealt with under the
Winding-up Act – as in England?

King: Really, gentlemen, this is very irregular. If you will be
so good as to formulate a detailed list of your grievances
in writing, addressed to the Secretary of Utopia Limited,
they will be laid before the Board, in due course, at their
next monthly meeting.

Scaphio: Are we to understand that we are defied?

King: That is the idea I intended to convey.

Phantis: Defied! We are defied!

Scaphio: (furiously) Take care – you know our powers. Trifle with
us, and you die!

TRIO – Scaphio, Phantis, and King.

Sca.: If you think that, when banded in unity,
We may both be defied with impunity,
You are sadly misled of a verity!

Phan.: If you value repose and tranquility,
You‘ll revert to a state of docility,
Or prepare to regret your temerity!

King.: If my speech is unduly refractory
You will find it a course satisfactory
At an early Board meeting to show it up.
Though if proper excuse you can trump any,
You may wind up a Limited Company,
You cannot conveniently blow it up!

(Scaphio and Phantis thoroughly baffled)

King.: (Dancing quietly)
Whene‘er I chance to baffle you
I, also, dance a step or two –
Of this now guess the hidden sense:

(Scaphio and Phantis consider the question as King continues dancing
quietly – then give it up.)

It means complete indifference!

Sca. and Phan.: Of course it does – indifference!
It means complete indifference!

(King dancing quietly. Sca. and Phan. dancing furiously.)

Sca. and Phan.: As we‘ve a dance for every mood
With pas de trois we will conclude,
What this may mean you all may guess –
It typifies remorselessness!

King.: It means unruffled cheerfulness!

(King dances off placidly as Scaphio and Phantis dance furiously.)

Phantis: (breathless) He‘s right – we are helpless! He‘s no longer a
human being – he‘s a Corporation, and so long as he confines
himself to his Articles of Association we can‘t touch him!
What are we to do?

Scaphio: Do? Raise a Revolution, repeal the Act of Sixty-Two, recon-
vert him into an individual, and insist on his immediate ex-
plosion! (Tarara enters.) Tarara, come here; you‘re the
very man we want.

Tarara: Certainly, allow me. (Offers a cracker to each; they snatch
them away impatiently.) That‘s rude.

Scaphio: We have no time for idle forms. You wish to succeed to the

Tarara: Naturally.

Scaphio: Then you won‘t unless you join us. The King has defied us,
and, as matters stand, we are helpless. So are you. We
must devise some plot at once to bring the people about his

Tarara: A plot?

Phantis: Yes, a plot of superhuman subtlety. Have you such a thing
about you?

Tarara: (feeling) No, I think not. No. There‘s one on my

Scaphio: We can‘t wait – we must concoct one at once, and put it into
execution without delay. There is not a moment to spare!

TRIO – Scaphio, Phantis, and Tarara.


With wily brain upon the spot
A private plot we‘ll plan,
The most ingenious private plot
Since private plots began.
That‘s understood. So far we‘ve got
And, striking while the iron‘s hot,
We‘ll now determine like a shot
The details of this private plot.

Sca.: I think we ought – (whispers)
Phan. and Tar.: Such bosh I never heard!
Phan.: Ah! happy thought! – (whispers)
Sca. and Tar.: How utterly dashed absurd!
Tar.: I‘ll tell you how – (whispers)
Sca and Phan.: Why, what put that in your head?
Sca.: I‘ve got it now – (whispers)
Phan. and Tar.: Oh, take him away to bed!
Phan.: Oh, put him to bed!
Tar.: Oh, put him to bed!
Sca.: What, put me to bed?
Phan. and Tar.: Yes, certainly put him to bed!
Sca.: But, bless me, don‘t you see –
Phan.: Do listen to me, I pray –
Tar.: It certainly seems to me –
Sca.: Bah – this is the only way!
Phan.: It‘s rubbish absurd you growl!
Tar.: You talk ridiculous stuff!
Sca.: You‘re a drivelling barndoor owl!
Phan.: You‘re a vapid and vain old muff!

(All, coming down to audience.)

So far we haven‘t quite solved the plot –
They‘re not a very ingenious lot –
But don‘t be unhappy,
It‘s still on the tapis,
We‘ll presently hit on a capital plot!

Sca.: Suppose we all – (whispers)
Phan.: Now there I think you‘re right.
Then we might all – (whispers)
Tar.: That‘s true, we certainly might.
I‘ll tell you what – (whispers)
Sca.: We will if we possibly can.
Then on the spot – (whispers)
Phan. and Tar.: Bravo! A capital plan!
Sca.: That‘s exceedingly neat and new!
Phan.: Exceedingly new and neat.
Tar.: I fancy that that will do.
Sca.: It‘s certainly very complete.
Phan.: Well done you sly old sap!
Tar.: Bravo, you cunning old mole!
Sca.: You very ingenious chap!
Phan.: You intellectual soul!

(All, coming down and addressing audience.)

At last a capital plan we‘ve got
We won‘t say how and we won‘t say what:
It‘s safe in my noddle –
Now off we will toddle,
And slyly develop this capital plot!

(Business. Exeunt Scaphio and Phantis in one direction, and Tarara in
the other.)

(Enter Lord Dramaleigh and Mr. Goldbury.)

Lord D.: Well, what do you think of our first South Pacific
Drawing-Room? Allowing for a slight difficulty with the
trains, and a little want of familiarity with the use of the
rouge-pot, it was, on the whole, a meritorious affair?

Gold.: My dear Dramaleigh, it redounds infinitely to your credit.

Lord D.: One or two judicious innovations, I think?

Gold.: Admirable. The cup of tea and the plate of mixed biscuits
were a cheap and effective inspiration.

Lord D.: Yes – my idea entirely. Never been done before.

Gold.: Pretty little maids, the King‘s youngest daughters, but

Lord D.: That‘ll wear off. Young.

Gold.: That‘ll wear off. Ha! here they come, by George! And with-
out the Dragon! What can they have done with her?

(Enter Nekaya and Kalyba timidly.)

Nekaya: Oh, if you please, Lady Sophy has sent us in here, because
Zara and Captain Fitzbattleaxe are going on, in the garden,
in a manner which no well-conducted young ladies ought to

Lord D.: Indeed, we are very much obliged to her Ladyship.

Kalyba: Are you? I wonder why.

Nekaya: Don‘t tell us if it‘s rude.

Lord D.: Rude? Not at all. We are obliged to Lady Sophy because she
has afforded us the pleasure of seeing you.

Nekaya: I don‘t think you ought to talk to us like that.

Kalyba: It‘s calculated to turn our heads.

Nekaya: Attractive girls cannot be too particular.

Kalyba: Oh pray, pray do not take advantage of our unprotected inno-

Gold.: Pray be reassured – you are in no danger whatever.

Lord D.: But may I ask – is this extreme delicacy – this shrinking
sensitiveness – a general characteristic of Utopian young

Nekaya: Oh no; we are crack specimens.

Kalyba: We are the pick of the basket. Would you mind not coming
quite so near? Thank you.

Nekaya: And please don‘t look at us like that; it unsettles us.

Kalyba: And we don‘t like it. At least, we do like it; but it‘s

Nekaya: We have enjoyed the inestimable privilege of being educated
by a most refined and easily shocked English lady, on the
very strictest English principles.

Gold.: But, my dear young ladies – -

Kalyba: Oh, don‘t! You mustn‘t. It‘s too affectionate.

Nekaya: It really does unsettle us.

Gold.: Are you really under the impression that English girls are
so ridiculously demure? Why, an English girl of the highest
type is the best, the most beautiful, the bravest, and the
brightest creature that Heaven has conferred upon this world
of ours. She is frank, open-hearted, and fearless, and
never shows in so favorable a light as when she gives her
own blameless impulses full play!

Nekaya Oh, you shocking story!

Gold.: Not at all. I‘m speaking the strict truth. I‘ll tell you
all about her.

SONG – Mr. Goldbury.

A wonderful joy our eyes to bless,
In her magnificent comeliness,
Is an English girl of eleven stone two,
And five foot ten in her dancing shoe!
She follows the hounds, and on the pounds –
The „field“ tails off and the muffs diminish –

Over the hedges and brooks she bounds,
Straight as a crow, from find to finish.
At cricket, her kin will lose or win –
She and her maids, on grass and clover,
Eleven maids out – eleven maids in –
And perhaps an occasional „maiden over!“

Go search the world and search the sea,
Then come you home and sing with me
There‘s no such gold and no such pearl
As a bright and beautiful English girl!

With a ten-mile spin she stretches her limbs,
She golfs, she punts, she rows, she swims –
She plays, she sings, she dances, too,
From ten or eleven til all is blue!
At ball or drum, til small hours come
(Chaperon‘s fans concealing her yawning)
She‘ll waltz away like a teetotum.
And never go home til daylight‘s dawning.
Lawn-tennis may share her favours fair –
Her eyes a-dance, and her cheeks a-glowing –
Down comes her hair, but then what does she care?
It‘s all her own and it‘s worth the showing!
Go search the world, etc.

Her soul is sweet as the ocean air,
For prudery knows no haven there;
To find mock-modesty, please apply
To the conscious blush and the downcast eye.
Rich in the things contentment brings,
In every pure enjoyment wealthy,
Blithe and beautiful bird she sings,
For body and mind are hale and healthy.
Her eyes they thrill with right goodwill –
Her heart is light as a floating feather –
As pure and bright as the mountain rill
That leaps and laughs in the Highland heather!
Go search the world, etc.


Nek.: Then I may sing and play?

Lord D.: You may!

Kal.: Then I may laugh and shout?

Gold.: No doubt!.

Nek.: These maxims you endorse?

Lord D.: Of course!

Kal.: You won‘t exclaim „Oh fie!“

Gold.: Not I!

Gold: Whatever you are – be that:
Whatever you say – be true:
Straightforwardly act –
Be honest – in fact,
Be nobody else but you.

Lord D.: Give every answer pat –
Your character true unfurl;
And when it is ripe,
You‘ll then be a type
Of a capital English girl.

All.: Oh sweet surprise – oh, dear delight,
To find it undisputed quite,
All musty, fusty rules despite
That Art is wrong and Nature right!

Nek.: When happy I,
With laughter glad
I‘ll wake the echoes fairly,
And only sigh
When I am sad –
And that will be but rarely!

Kal.: I‘ll row and fish,
And gallop, soon –
No longer be a prim one –
And when I wish
To hum a tune,
It needn‘t be a hymn one?

Gold and Lord D.: No, no!
It needn‘t be a hymn one!

All (dancing): Oh, sweet surprise and dear delight
To find it undisputed quite –
All musty, fusty rules despite –
That Art is wrong and Nature right!

(Dance, and off)
(Enter Lady Sophy)

RECITATIVE – Lady Sophy.

Oh, would some demon power the gift impart
To quell my over-conscientious heart –
Unspeak the oaths that never had been spoken,
And break the vows that never should be broken!

SONG – Lady Sophy

When but a maid of fifteen year,
Unsought – unplighted –
Short petticoated – and, I fear,
Still shorter-sighted –
I made a vow, one early spring,
That only to some spotless King
Who proof of blameless life could bring
I‘d be united.
For I had read, not long before,
Of blameless kings in fairy lore,
And thought the race still flourished here –
Well, well –
I was a maid of fifteen year!

(The King enters and overhears this verse)

Each morning I pursued my game
(An early riser);
For spotless monarchs I became
An advertiser:
But all in vain I searched each land,
So, kingless, to my native strand
Returned, a little older, and
A good deal wiser!

I learnt that spotless King and Prince
Have disappeared some ages since –
Even Paramount‘s angelic grace –
Ah me! –
Is but a mask on Nature‘s face!
(King comes forward)

King: Ah, Lady Sophy – then you love me!
For so you sing –

Lady S.: (Indignant and surprise. Producing „Palace Peeper“)
No, by the stars that shine above me,
Degraded King!
For while these rumours, through the city bruited,
Remain uncontradicted, unrefuted,
The object thou of my aversion rooted,
Repulsive thing!

King: Be just – the time is now at hand
When truth may published be.
These paragraphs were written and
Contributed by me!

Lady S.: By you? No, no!

King: Yes, yes. I swear, by me!
I, caught in Scaphio‘s ruthless toil,
Contributed the lot!

Lady S.: That that is why you did not boil
The author on the spot!

King: And that is why I did not boil
The author on the spot!

Lady S.: I couldn‘t think why you did not boil!

King: But I know why I did not boil
The author on the spot!

DUET – Lady Sophy and King

Lady S.: Oh, the rapture unrestrained
Of a candid retractation!
For my sovereign has deigned
A convincing explanation –
And the clouds that gathered o‘er
All have vanished in the distance,
And the Kings of fairy lore
One, at least, is in existence!

King: Oh, the skies are blue above,
And the earth is red and rosal,
Now the lady of my love
Has accepted my proposal!
For that asinorum pons
I have crossed without assistance,
And of prudish paragons
One, at least, is in existence!

(King and Lady Sophy dance gracefully. While this is going on Lord
Dramaleigh enters unobserved with Nekaya and Capt. Fitzbattleaxe. The
two girls direct Zara‘s attention to the King and Lady Sophy, who
are still dancing affectionately together. At this point the
King kisses Lady Sophy, which causes the Princesses to make an
exclamation. The King and Lady Sophy are at first much confused at
being detected, but eventually throw off all reserve, and the
four couples break into a wild Tarantella, and at the end exeunt

Enter all the male Chorus, in great excitement, for various entrances,
led by Scaphio, Phantis, and Tarara, and followed by the female


Upon our sea-girt land
At our enforced command
Reform has laid her hand
Like some remorseless ogress –
And made us darkly rue
The deeds she dared to do –
And all is owing to
Those hated Flowers of Progress!

So down with them!
So down with them!
Reform‘s a hated ogress.
So down with them!
So down with them!
Down with the Flowers of Progress!

(Flourish. Enter King, his three daughters, Lady Sophy, and the Flowers
of Progress.)

King: What means this most unmannerly irruption?
Is this your gratitude for boons conferred?

Scaphio: Boons? Bah! A fico for such boons, say we!
These boons have brought Utopia to a standstill!
Our pride and boast – the Army and the Navy –
Have both been reconstructed and remodeled
Upon so irresistible a basis
That all the neighboring nations have disarmed –
And War‘s impossible! Your County Councillor
Has passed such drastic Sanitary laws
That all doctors dwindle, starve, and die!
The laws, remodeled by Sir Bailey Barre,
Have quite extinguished crime and litigation:
The lawyers starve, and all the jails are let
As model lodgings for the working-classes!
In short – Utopia, swamped by dull Prosperity,
Demands that these detested Flowers of Progress
Be sent about their business, and affairs
Restored to their original complexion!

King: (to Zara) My daughter, this is a very unpleasant state of
things. What is to be done?

Zara: I don‘t know – I don‘t understand it. We must have omitted

King: Omitted something? Yes, that‘s all very well, but – - (Sir
Bailey Barre whispers to Zara.)

Zara: (suddenly) Of course! Now I remember! Why, I had forgot-
ten the most essential element of all!

King: And that is? – -

Zara: Government by Party! Introduce that great and glorious
element – at once the bulwark and foundation of England‘s
greatness – and all will be well! No political measures will
endure, because one Party will assuredly undo all that the
other Party has done; and while grouse is to be shot, and
foxes worried to death, the legislative action of the coun-
try will be at a standstill. Then there will be sickness in
plenty, endless lawsuits, crowded jails, interminable confu-
sion in the Army and Navy, and, in short, general and unex-
ampled prosperity!

All: Ulahlica! Ulahlica!

Phantis: (aside) Baffled!

Scaphio: But an hour will come!

King: Your hour has come already – away with them, and let them
wait my will! (Scaphio and Phantis are led off in custody.)
From this moment Government by Party is adopted, with all
its attendant blessings; and henceforward Utopia will no
longer be a Monarchy Limited, but, what is a great deal
better, a Limited Monarchy!


Zara: There‘s a little group of isles beyond the wave –
So tiny, you might almost wonder where it is –
That nation is the bravest of the brave,
And cowards are the rarest of all rarities.
The proudest nations kneel at her command;
She terrifies all foreign-born rapscallions;
And holds the peace of Europe in her hand
With half a score invincible battalions!

Such, at least, is the tale
Which is born on the gale,
From the island which dwells in the sea.
Let us hope, for her sake
That she makes no mistake –
That she‘s all the professes to be!

King: Oh, may we copy all her maxims wise,
And imitate her virtues and her charities;
And may we, by degrees, acclimatize
Her Parliamentary peculiarities!
By doing so, we shall in course of time,
Regenerate completely our entire land –
Great Britain is the monarchy sublime,
To which some add (others do not) Ireland.
Such at least is the tale, etc.



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