We don't mean to insist upon unnecessary polish—
And, on the whole, I rather think you'll find our rule
tollolish!
ALL. Sing hey, the jolly jinks of Pfennig Halbpfennig!
JULIA. But stay—your new-made Court
Without a courtly coat is—
We shall require
Some Court attire,
And at a moment's notice.
In clothes of common sort
Your courtiers must not grovel—
Your new noblesse
Must have a dress
Original and novel!
LUD. Old Athens we'll exhume!
The necessary dresses,
Correct and true
And all brand-new,
The company possesses:
Henceforth our Court costume
Shall live in song and story,
For we'll upraise
The dead old days
Of Athens in her glory!
ALL. Yes, let's upraise
The dead old days
Of Athens in her glory!
ALL. Agreed! Agreed!
For this will be a jolly Court for little and for big! etc
(They carry LUDWIG round stage and deposit him on the ironwork of
well. JULIA stands by him, and the rest group round them.)
END OF ACT I.
ACT II.
(THE NEXT MORNING.)
SCENE.—Entrance Hall of the Grand Ducal Palace.
Enter a procession of the members of the theatrical company (now
dressed in the costumes of Troilus and Cressida), carrying
garlands, playing on pipes, citharae, and cymbals, and
heralding the return of LUDWIG and JULIA from the marriage
ceremony, which has just taken place.
CHORUS.
As before you we defile,
Eloia! Eloia!
Pray you, gentles, do not smile
If we shout, in classic style,
Eloia!
Ludwig and his Julia true
Wedded are each other to—
So we sing, till all is blue,
Eloia! Eloia!
Opoponax! Eloia!
Wreaths of bay and ivy twine,
Eloia! Eloia!
Fill the bowl with Lesbian wine,
And to revelry incline—
Eloia!
For as gaily we pass on
Probably we shall, anon,
Sing a Diergeticon—
Eloia! Eloia!
Opoponax! Eloia!
RECIT.—LUDWIG.
Your loyalty our Ducal heartstrings touches:
Allow me to present your new Grand Duchess.
Should she offend, you'll graciously excuse her—
And kindly recollect I didn't choose her!
SONG—LUDWIG.
At the outset I may mention it's my sovereign intention
To revive the classic memories of Athens at its best,
For the company possesses all the necessary dresses
And a course of quiet cramming will supply us with the
rest.
We've a choir hyporchematic (that is, ballet-operatic)
Who respond to the choreut of that cultivated age,
And our clever chorus-master, all but captious criticaster
Would accept as the choregus of the early Attic stage.
This return to classic ages is considered in their wages,
Which are always calculated by the day or by the week—
And I'll pay 'em (if they'll back me) all in oboloi and drachm,
Which they'll get (if they prefer it) at the Kalends that
are Greek!
(Confidentially to audience.)
At this juncture I may mention
That this erudition sham
Is but classical pretension,
The result of steady "cram.":
Periphrastic methods spurning,
To this audience discerning
I admit this show of learning
Is the fruit of steady "cram."!
CHORUS. Periphrastic methods, etc.
In the period Socratic every dining-room was Attic
(Which suggests an architecture of a topsy-turvy kind),
There they'd satisfy their thirst on a recherche cold {Greek
word}
Which is what they called their lunch—and so may you if
you're inclined.
As they gradually got on, they'd {four Greek words)
(Which is Attic for a steady and a conscientious drink).
But they mixed their wine with water—which I'm sure they didn't
oughter—
And we modern Saxons know a trick worth two of that, I
think!
Then came rather risky dances (under certain circumstances)
Which would shock that worthy gentleman, the Licenser of
Plays,
Corybantian maniac kick—Dionysiac or Bacchic—
And the Dithyrambic revels of those undecorous days.
(Confidentially to audience.)
And perhaps I'd better mention,
Lest alarming you I am,
That it isn't our intention
To perform a Dithyramb—
It displays a lot of stocking,
Which is always very shocking,
And of course I'm only mocking
At the prevalence of "cram"!
CHORUS. It displays a lot, etc.
Yes, on reconsideration, there are customs of that nation
Which are not in strict accordance with the habits of our
day,
And when I come to codify, their rules I mean to modify,
Or Mrs. Grundy, p'r'aps, may have a word or two to say.
For they hadn't macintoshes