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)
_Conrad._ Enough! I from the unequal contest cease;
My heart is broken, but I’ll _keep the peace_;
And, since yours is the victory, I’ll be calm.
Thus I give up her hand, and yield the palm.
_Medora._ Say we part friends.
_Conrad._ We do, though grief oppressing.
[_Weeping and joining their hands._
Take her, be happy--take a Corsair’s blessing.
_Pasha._ Thanks! you are free--you now may cut, and when
You have cut, mind, you needn’t come again.
_Conrad._ Fear not.
_Gul._ [_Aside to him._] Return at midnight--you can save her,
And also do me a great wedding favor.
_Conrad._ Farewell! away my lonely course I take.
You needn’t trouble to send cards or cake. [_Exit, L._
_Pasha._ Quick, slaves! make preparation, though ’tis late;
This evening we’ll the nuptials celebrate.
Bright garlands on the walls of every room stick,
And bid the priest prepare the wedding broomstick.
[_Exeunt SYNG SMAUL and GUARDS, L._
_Gul._ Come, madam, to your room let me conduct you.
[_Aside._] Then of my plans more fully I’ll instruct you.
_Medora._ Come, come. [_Exeunt MEDORA and GULNARE, R._
_Enter SYNG SMAUL and Guards, L._
_Pasha._ How now, slave?
_Syng._ Sire, the broomstick’s ready,
The priest awaits.
_Pasha._ Down, throbbing heart--be steady!
Oh, happiness! soon I my wife shall call her.
She comes.
_Enter GULNARE, veiled, followed by WOMEN, R._
Holloa! it strikes me she’s grown taller.
_Gul._ Sire, can you wonder that I taller stand,
Now you’ve made me the highest in the land?
_Pasha._ Accept this ring; for ever thus united----
Shall we proceed?
_Gul._ Sire, I shall be delighted.
[_Wedding March. Exeunt in procession, L._
_Enter MEDORA, R._
_Medora._ Saved! Saved! Gulnare will marry, in my stead.
Blessed land, where veils are worn upon the head,
Screening the face, secure from all beholders--
Instead of bonnets half way down the shoulders!
But for that fashion, all our plans would fail:
Nought can succeed, when its without _avail_.
They come! [_Exit, R._
_March repeated. Re-enter PASHA, GULNARE; LADIES dancing before
them, bearing flowers, &c.; SYNG SMAUL, GUARDS, &c., L._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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