The corsair; or, the little fairy at the bottom of the sea : $b A new Christmas burlesque and pantomime, founded upon the ballet of "Le corsair"Brough, William
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The corsair; or, the little fairy at the bottom of the sea : $b A new Christmas burlesque and pantomime, founded upon the ballet of "Le corsair"
Brough, William
Burlesques; English drama -- 19th century; Pantomime (Christmas entertainment)
_Medora._ Alas! they’ve locked him in, and ta’en the key.
_Gul._ But I’ve a duplicate! [_Shows key._
See, this will pick it.
[_Goes to door._
_Medora._ A duplicate! that is, indeed, the ticket.
[_GULNARE opens door, R. 2 E., CONRAD comes out, ironed._
_Conrad._ We meet again, my joy who now can tell?
_Medora._ [_Looking in._] What a vile dungeon!
_Conrad._ ’Tis an awful cell.
Thus ironed too! these heavy fetters dangling.
_Medora._ That loved form ironed! Well, it’s saved from mangling.
_Conrad._ Sweet, ’twas your love that saved me--nothing but it.
Their swords were at my throat--you bid them cut it.
_Gul._ But come, time flies--
_Conrad._ Hah! true, a just remark.
Explain, too long they’ve kept me in the dark.
[_Points to cell._
_Gul._ Kept in the dark--come, there you’re wrong, methinks.
Surely you’d light--those chains have lots of links.
_Medora._ Conrad, the Pasha offers you your freedom.
_Conrad._ Hah! on what terms?
_Gul._ In her confusion read ’em.
Her hand.
_Conrad._ And she consents? oh, no.
_Medora._ I don’t.
I’d see him further first, and then I won’t.
_Conrad._ Brave girl, ’twould be, were I of you bereft,
A still more awful sell than that I’ve left.
_Gul._ But I’ve a plan.
_Conrad._ Out with it.
_Gul._ ’Tis that she
Pretend submission until you are free.
_Conrad._ Good!
_Medora._ But suppose he makes me sticks to it?
And marry him.
_Gul._ Nay, trust to woman’s wit,
I mean to marry him myself--I told you;
As the sole obstacle, I now behold you.
You gone, of all my hopes comes the revival,
With your _departure_, I’ve no more _a rival_.
But some one comes; they must not here perceive me.
Get in. [_Pushing CONRAD in._
_Conrad._ [_Struggling._] Get out.
_Gul._ Go, go. [_Locks door._
_Medora._ You won’t deceive me?
_Gul._ Trust me. [_Exit, R._
_Medora._ I will.
_March._--_Enter PASHA, SYNG SMAUL, GUARDS, &c., L._
_Medora._ [_Aside._] And now consent to sham!
_Pasha._ Well madam, are you quite resolved?
_Medora._ I am.
_Pasha._ Pause ere you speak--mind, your refusal crushes
The Corsair’s chance. Your answer!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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