Scene V

SCENE V.—The Harem, with the Gardens of the Pasha’s Palace.

Odalisques dancing. Enter Gulnare, L., and Zuliema, R.; the Odalisques dance round Gulnare.

Zuli.How’s this? Am I no longer mistress here?

Gul.Well, don’t be angry with them, there’s a dear;

 
You can’t put old heads on young shoulders.

Zuli.You can’t put old heads on young shoulders.No.

 
But you can take the young heads off them, though.

 
They’d best not slight me!

Gul.They’d best not slight me!Madam, pray control

 
Your passion; do now, there’s a good old soul.

Zuli.Old soul! No matter—we shall see.

Gul.Old soul! No matter—we shall see.No doubt

 
With spectacles you might—you won’t without!

Zuli.Proud beauty; though your eye now brightly twinkles—

Gul.There—there; don’t frown, it only shows the wrinkles.

Zuli.Dare you thus openly, then, to deride

 
One whom the Pasha’s chosen for his bride?

Gul.Nay, I’ve no wish a quarrel to be picking;

 
But you must own, my friend, you’re not a chicken.

Zuli.I blush for you.

Gul.I blush for you.You can’t—your paint beneath—

Zuli.’Tis false!

Gul.’Tis false!Just so.

Zuli.’Tis false!Just so.You say this to my teeth?

Gul.To teeth—to hair—to all the charge extending;

 
That wig—the head and front of your offending.

Zuli.I’ll have you bow-stringed!

Gul.I’ll have you bow-stringed!Yes, a likely thing.

 
First catch your beau before you talk of string.

 
D’ye think the Pasha cares for you? Not he.

Zuli.Indeed! But here he comes—now we shall see.

Enter Pasha, L. U. E.—Zuliema runs to him and seizes him by the arm.

Trio.—Irish Air.
Zuli.Mighty Pasha, grant your slave

 
Vengeance on this beauty bold.

Gul.Mighty Pasha, I would crave

 
Safety from this vixen old.

Pasha.Will you hold this dreadful row, now?

Zuli.Will you put this upstart down, now?

Gul.Her conceit has grown so big, sir—

Zuli.She declares I wear a wig, sir—

Pasha.How, now, now—will you hold your row?

 
I’m by no means in good humor—not just now.

Pasha.Leave me.

Zuli.Leave me.Alas! your love for me, then, cools.
[Embracing him.

Pasha.Oh, be off—old fools are the worst of fools!

 
Come here, Gulnare—the cause of this explain:

Zuli. [R., Mincingly.]

 
It was my face.

Gul. [L.]It was my face.You see the cause is plain—

 
She boasted that she was your wife to be,

 
When you remember, sire, you promised me.

Pasha. [Aside.]

 
I know, to both of them I’ve pledged my word—

 
It’s very awkward, for I love a third.

Zuli.Great Pasha, say, shall I not be your bride?

Gul.I’ll leave it to your taste, sire, to decide.

Song.—Pasha.—“Beggar’s Opera.”
 
How happy could I be with neither;

Now t’other dear charmer’s away,

 
I don’t care a button for either;

And so what the deuce can I say,

 
Except tol de rol, oh, my Medora—

Tol de rol, rol de rol lay—

 
You’ve deserted your ardent adorer,

And left him to misery a prey.

[A loud single knock.

Enter Syng Smaul, L. 1 E.

Pasha.How now, slave?

Syng.How now, slave?Sire, a man is at the door,

 
He’s got a slave to sell.

Pasha.He’s got a slave to sell.I’ll buy no more.
[Exit Syng Smaul.

 
I’m plagued to death as ’tis, with those I’ve got.

Re-enter Syng Smaul, L. 1 E.

 
What now?

Syng.What now?He says you have bought this one.

Pasha.What now?He says you have bought this one.What?

Syng.And though to you such message may sound funny;

 
He said he would’nt leave without the money.

Pasha.Insolent caitiff! show him in—and stay—

 
Request our headsman, too, to step this way.
[Exit Syng Smaul.

Gul. [Aside.]

 
Who is this madman, rushing on to slaughter?

 

Enter Yussuf with Medora, veiled, L. 1 E.

Yussuf.How are you, Pasha? Here’s the gal; I caught her.

Pasha.What girl, dog?

Yussuf. [Raising her veil.]

 
What girl, dog?See!

Pasha.What girl, dog?See!Medora!

Medora.What girl, dog?See!Medora!Sire, have pity!

Zuli. [Looking at Medora.]

 
Young, but uncultivated!

Gul. [Looking at Medora.]

 
Young, but uncultivated!Plump, but pretty!

Medora.Save me, sir, from this man?

Pasha.Save me, sir, from this man?Nay, sweet—you see—

Medora.You won’t? Enough! Thus, then, myself I free.
[Draws dagger; is about to stab herself.

Yussuf.Hold on, until I’m paid—at least. Ho! seize her.

Medora.Villain, for you, then.
[Runs at him with dagger.

Yussuf.Villain, for you, then.Back her! stop her! ease her!
[Runs out, L.

Pasha.Halloa! It seems your dagger you are quick at!

Medora.Yes, for great wrongs I never trifles stick at.

Pasha.But he’s your uncle.

Medora. [L.]But he’s your uncle.Kindred’s no protection.

 
I raised this knife to cut my own connexion.

Pasha.Nay, sweet Medora.
[Kneels.

Zuli.Nay, sweet Medora.Sir, what are you at?

 
Kneeling before a little minx like that.

Pasha.Silence!

Gul.Silence!To me can you forget your vow?

Pasha.Somebody stop these women’s tongues.

Enter Syng Smaul, L.

 
Somebody stop these women’s tongues.How now?

Syng.A wandering dervise, by fatigue oppressed,

 
Begs you’ll allow him to come in and rest.

Pasha.Admit him.

Syng Smaul goes off, and returns with Conrad, L., disguised as a dervise; he bows to Pasha.

 
Admit him.Sir, come in, your boon we grant.

An Attendant brings wine.

 
Drink, sir; this maid will dance meanwhile.

Medora.Drink, sir; this maid will dance meanwhile.I shan’t.

Pasha.No sulks, young woman; we’ve an ugly knack

 
Of giving ladies who rebel—the sack.

Syng.Into the river, tied in bags, they’re shied.

Medora.Tied in a bag? I care not what betide.

Conrad. [Aside to her.]

 
Fear naught.

Medora.Fear naught.That voice!

Conrad.Fear naught.That voice!Take heed—don’t shout like that out.

Medora. [Aside.]

 
Talking of bags, I’d nearly let the cat out.

Pasha.Once for all—will you dance at my command?

Conrad.Stay, you’ve no music; let me call my band.

 
[Blows horn.] My followers, ho!

Pasha.[Blows horn.] My followers, ho!What mean these rude alarms?

Medora.The trumpet calls, and thus we fly to arms.
[They embrace.

Pasha.Tear them asunder!

[Music.—Syng Smaul seizes Medora—struggle, in which Conrad’s cloak falls off.

 
Tear them asunder!Ho! the Corsair! murder!

[Ladies scream—all rush off, carrying Medora, struggling, R.

Conrad. [Blows horn.]

 
My followers, ho!

Enter Birbanto, L.

Birb.My followers, ho!They’ll follow you no furder!

Conrad.You have not dared to tamper with them, slave?

Birb.Well, if you ask the question then—I have.

Conrad.Traitor!
[Draws sword.

Birb.Traitor!I scorn your threats and you alike!

Conrad.This to decide between us then.

Birb. [With the approved Victoria pronunciation.]

 
This to decide between us then.Ster-ike!
[Music.—They strike attitudes for a broad sword

 
combat—Conrad stops suddenly.

Conrad. [Looking at his sword, a light elegant one.]

 
Stop! for stage combats this is not the thing,

 
Just wait while I exchange it at the wing.
[Goes to wing, R., and returns with

 
the orthodox basket hilt.

 
Now then to meet your fate so well deserved.

 
Come on!

Birb.Come on!Ster-ike, as I before observed.
[Desperate single combat—Birbanto gets the worst of it.

 
Help! help!

Conrad.Help! help!Take that—in vain for help you call.

Birb. [Falls.]

 
That cut was the unkindest cut of all.

Conrad.Die, villain!
[Guards rush in and surround him.

Birb.Die, villain!Saved!

Syng.Die, villain!Saved!Ho! guards, to pieces tear him.

Conrad.I’m dished—I ask no quarter.

Medora. [Runs in R., and kneels.]

 
I’m dished—I ask no quarter.Spare him—spare him.

Tableau—scene closes.