Act I.

Street in Old Paris.

Chorus of Market Men and Women.

Hand in hand, gaily greeting,
Hand in hand, here we're meeting,
Blessings rare
We wish the happy pair.
Hallo ! Pomponnet!

Pom. (outside)

Here I am.

Cho.

The bridegroom, Pomponnet.

Pom.

Thanks, good friends.

Cho. (looking off R.)

Oh ! ain't he gay,
Fine at both ends.
Clairette !

Bab.

Mademoiselle's not ready yet.

Cho.

Indeed ! What, still at her toilet ?

Bab.

Of orange flowers a wreath so gay
A bride must wear on wedding day.

Cho.

Of orange flowers a wreath so gay
She must wear on her wedding day.

(Enter Pomponnet.)

Of orange flowers d'ye say
'Tis for me,
Pomponnet,
She wears this wreath so gay.

Song.

All day long must I be careful
Of this wreath so sweet and fair;
You may look, but must not dare pull.
E'en one leaf or blossom there.
I alone, am its sole owner.
Yes, 'tis mine, you understand,
And to-night I'll have the honour
To undo it with this hand.
Ah!
page 4 When I think on't, when I think on't,
How I shake from top to toe,
My wedding-day I'm on the brink on't,
What I feel you ne'er can know.

Cho.

When he thinks on't, when he thinks on't,
How he shakes from top to toe !
His wedding day lie's on the brink on't,
What he feels none e'er can know.

Bab.

Behold the lovely Bride ?

Pom.

'Tis my darling ?

Cho.

Keep silence!

(Minuet Chorus, during which Clairette enters from House L. in Bridal Costume.)

Beauty without pretence,
Model of innocence,
See her there !
Beauty e'en unadorned
By no means should be scorned,
But by such splendour warned
We hail her, doubly fair.

Chorus of Women.
Come kiss me for your mother !

Chorus of Men
Come hug me for your brother !

Soon in rags her dress would be, (to Clair.)
You'd better kiss no one but me.

Clair.

I think I'll kiss none of the three.

Cadet.

Well said, Clairette.

Javotte.

Clairette, my darling !
What think you of your wedding-morning?

Clair.

What do I think?

Cho.

Take courage, pray
Make no delay.

Clair.

I cannot say.

Romance.

I owe you all, I, Child of the market.
And when you tell me that wed I must be,
Bright be my future fortune, or dark; it
Rests with you now, I'm obedient you see.
Still, I don't know what I'm vowing and swearing.
No more than a salmon, or basket of greens,
For what wedlock is. Now don't all be staring,
I don't know—on my word—in the least what it means.
page 5

Cho.

What modesty ! What innocence !

Pom.

She's groen as grass, what happiness !

Clair.

Loft all alone, a poor orphan, deserted,
You have been parents and guardians to me;
And I've believed what you've always asserted
That parents should order and children obey.
Marriage is pleasant, you always are saying,
To all young girls who are out of their teens;
And I'd content be, since now 'tis past praying,
If I but knew, only knew, what it means.

Cho.

What modesty! What innocence;

Pom.

She's green as grass, what happiness!

Buteux.

Come, let's be off. This is no time for waiting.

Cadet.

It is too soon to see the mayor;
Indeed you know, the truth I'm stating,
For an hour he'll not be there.

Pom.

Oh ! how I chafe at this delay,
For every moment seems a day;
So let us haste, and have it o'er,
My trembling heart can bear no more.

Cho.

Yes, let us go and have it o'er,
His trembling heart can bear no more.
Hand-in-hand, gaily greeting,
Hand-in-hand, here we're meeting.
Blessings rare
We wish the happy pair.

(Enter Amaranthe, running.)
(Legend of Madame Angôt.)
A fishwife bold and trusty,
For reasons big us plums
'Gainst her none e'er ran rusty
In market, street, or slums.
When she got in a passion,
And whether right or wrong,
With fist on hip, so fashion—
Her arguments were strong.
Plump and pretty,
Rough and ready,
Lots of spirit she could show;
Joking, smiling,
Sport ne'er spiling,
A rare good sort was Ma'am Angôt.

Plump and pretty, &c.
page 6 Once up in a balloon, boys,
She sailed upon the breeze,
Got safely down, and soon boys
She dared the raging seas;
Ta'en captive in far Malabar,
Fat, fair, and forty she,
They took her for a widow there,
And got up a "Suttee."
Fair and forty,
Stout and hearty,
Tempest, faggot, friend, or foe;
Rude wave? dashing,
Lightning flashing,
Nothing daunted Ma'am Angôt.

Fair and forty, &c.
Through all her life a rover,
Of sweethearts she'd a score;
But Turkey gave a lover
Was worth them all, and more.
The Sultan, who'd five hundred wives
In sere and yellow leaf,
Cut off their whole five hundred lives,
And flung her his handkerchief.

Chorus.

Plump and pretty, &c.

(Rondo—Ange Pitou.)
Yes : certainly I love Clairetta;
But should I therefore die of grief,
When some other girl, both young and pretty,
Unto my heart may bring relief.
This little note so sweet and pressing,
In style quite worthy of a Queen,
A passion most sincere expressing,
Perfume breathes its folds between.
Yes; certainly I loved Clairetta,
'Tis she, not I, forgets her vows,
And though at first I may regret her
I'll find myself another spouse.
T'other was lovely, there's no denying,
For without beauty there's no power,
So I conclude 'tis worth the trying;
I burn to meet this beauteous flower.
Yes : certainly I loved Clairetta,
But she may wedded be to-day,
page 7 And so 'tis easy to forgot her
Since she herself lias led the way;
Besides, the unknown, the uncertain
Has for me a charm divine,
So to my first intent reverting,
This unknown fair one shall be mine.
But, still I think I love Clairetta,
Although she's false to me to-day,
And we shall see who'll get the better
When she is Madame Pomponnet.
Who's here, I wonder?

Duet.

Union is strength, I've often hoard so,
Together let us seek the way—
Your mother, dear, would have preferred to—
We'll find it out this very day.

Clair.

Suppose some illness I pretend?

Ange Pitou.

No, no; they'd for a doctor send.

Clair.

Ah! no; I fear that is no go.

Ange Pitou.

—You look too healthy dear, you know.

A due.
Madam Angôt would never have done so.

Another plan I will propose;
Suppose I kill your future spouse.

Clair.

Let me see.

Ange Pitou.

'Tis the very thing, it seems to me.

Clair.

No; 'tis no go.

A due.
Madam Angôt would never have done so.

Suppose you say—to Pomponnet—
Renounce my hand this very day !
Or you may find that with my true Love
I might perchance prove falso to you. Love!

Clair.

Such things are sometimes done,
But talked about by none.

Ange Pitou.

Oh ! dear ! Oh ! dear !
We're done for I fear !

Clair.

Take courage, Love ! Leave all to me,
If nought turn up to set me free;
When the Mayor makes the demand
"Say, will you give this man your hand?"
Instead of "Yes" I'll answer "No."

Ange Pitou.

You don't say so.
page 8

Clair.

I'll answer "No."

Ange Pitou.

Such good sense, and so pretty,
One sweet kiss, just for pity.

Clair.

No, indeed, don't touch my face,
My bridal wreath you might displace.

Ange Pitou.

That bridal wreath I hate to see,
I ask you now, on bended knee,
Clairette, grant me this favour sweet,
Or I die—Here at your feet.

Clair. (a due.)

No ! no ! sir, you must not kiss me,
I must go, or else they'll miss me.
Oh; you'll be my ruin now (he kisses her.)
Ah ! what are you doing now ?

Ange Pitou (a due.)

No; no! you must let me kiss you,
Never fear, no one will miss you;
Quite wrong you arc construing now
What I would bo doing now.

(Solo)

One sweet kiss I pray you grant.

Clair (solo.)

Kiss you! No; indeed I shan't.

Ange Pitou.

Clairette, grant one little kiss,
One sweet foretaste of our bliss,
Clairette!

Clair.

No !no!

(a due)
You will be my ruin now.
Ah ! what are you doing now?

At your feet I'm suing now,
Don't blame what I am doing now (kisses her.)

Duet.
Ange Pitou and Larivandiere.

The deuce ! You're Larivaudière!

Lar.

Yes, I am Larivaudière.

Ange Pitou.

Well, 'tis really rather queer
That you ill person should be here.

Lar.

You did not think to see me here,
Don't you feel it rather queer ?

Ange Pitou.

Ha! ha! ha! ha! (laughing.)

Lar.

What the devil makes you sneer ?

Ange Pitou.

(serio comically.) 'Tis the great Larivaudière.

Lar.

(imitating him.) Yes, 'tis I, Larivaudière.

Ange Pitou.

Egad, I did'nt know you.
page 9

Lar.

Oh I no offence indeed sir,
Will you help me at my need sir,
And just change in your clever song
Larivaudiére to Lavaujon.

Ange Pitou.

No; that would spoil the rhyme.

Lar.

We'll make that right in time,
A thousand crowns I'll freely spend.

Ange Pitou.

I'm not for sale, sir—there's an end.

Lar.

Five thousand: will that do ?

Ange Pitou.

No, not for Ange Pitou.

Lar.

Well, then, I'll give you ten !

Ange Pitou.

Ten thousand!

Lar.

Ten thousand, net !
'Tis a fortune for Clariette!
Why Pomponnet she'd quite forget.

Lar.

He hesitates—he's lost.
Come, come, don't count the cost,
Ten thousand.

Ange Pitou.

No!

Lar.

Fifteen I proffer,

Ange Pitou.

I scorn your offer.

Lar.

Well then here's twenty thousand for your coffer

Ange Pitou.

Honour's more than gold.

Lar.

More argument to shun,
Say thirty thousand told.
Come, d'ye say Done!"

Ange Pitou.

Thirty thousand!

Lar.

In gold!

Ange Pitou.

At thirty thousand I am sold.

Lar.

And you yourself will sing the song ?

Ange Pitou.

I know I'm doing very wrong.

Lar.

You'll sing the song!

Ange Pitou.

I'll sing it without fail,
But you must pay me on the nail.

Lar.

Correct, I'm sure, you'll find the tale.

Ange Pitou.

(a due.) So at last the bargain's ended,
With Clairette I'll gaily spend it.
For in Paris all's for sale
If you can pay down on the nail;
Easy way to end all bother,
Swap one surname for another,
And just change in my little song
Larivaudière to Lavaujon.
page 10

Lar.

(a due.) So at last the bargain's ended,
He may gaily go and spend it,
For in Paris all's for sale
If you can pay down on the nail.
Easy way my fault to smother,
Swap one surname for another,
And just change in a little song
Larivaudière to Lavaujon.

(Exit Larivaudiere.)

Finale.—Chorus of Citizens.
You said you'd sing a song,
Hot, and fierce, and strong
Come, begin at once, or dread our anger,
Come, eome, now don't be long,
We'll have it right or wrong;
You promised us a song, you did,
So come begin, do as you're bid,
Sing us the song,
Don't be so long.

(Re-enter the Market People.)

Just see what a riotous crowd!
What's this rout?
What's about?

Citizens.

Ange Pitou from singing has backed out.

Market People.

Pitou, he is a lout!
A lout! a lout! a dirty lying lout!

Citizens.

No! no! no! He's merely a poltroon.

A Nondescript.

He fears that if he sings he'll get in quod too soon.

Clair. (at the window.)

A happy thought—
I'll work it out,
For singing treason they'll nab one, no doubt.

Citizens.

He promised us a song.
So let him sing it quick;
Come, don't be long,
Or we will break your neck.
Sing the song,
Don't be long,
You said you'd sing a song,
Both hot, and fierce, and strong;
Come, begin at once, or dread our anger,
Come, come, now don't be long,
Well have it right or wring.
page 11 You promised us a song, you did.
So come begin, do as you're bid,
Sing us the song,
Don't be so long.

Clair. (coming forward)

Stop, I say.

Pom.

Shut up, I pray.

Clair.

This very song that he has lost to-day
I picked up as it in the gutter lay;
I can sing it every line,
Indeed it's monstrous line.

Cho.

What ! singing in the streets!

Pom.

And when the Mayor now for us waits,

Cadet (furious).

Our child to be singing,
Her voice all through the dirty gutters ringing;
Yet I'd like to hear the song.

Cho.

Yes, we'd like to hear the song,
Come listen all to this fine song.

Ange Pitou.

I tremble.

Clair.

Here goes—hurrah!

Political Song.

In days of yore, when kings had power,
They presents gave both rich and rare
To all their fav'rites of the hour,
Both male and female, dark and fair.
Republics now are all the go,
Yet things are no better as they are,
For Ma'amselle Lange, as we all know
Is the fav'rite Sultana of Barras.
He is our King, and she is our Queen,
And I don't think we've altered our case at all,
For no better off the people's been,
The Rich still push us to the wall.

Chorus.

He is our King. &c.

(Louchard appears, listening at back.)

To tax the people is not fair,
Our kings they did it ev'ry day,
And Barras lets Larivaudière
Our pockets pick his debts to pay;
Thus you see things are the same,
Whether Royalty be up or down,
Nought is changed except the name,
Our Monarch reigns without his crown.
He is our King, &c. (Louchard exit.)

Chorus.

He is our King, &c.

page 12

(Re-enter Louchard, with Soldiers)

Arrest that girl!

Cho.

Ah!

Ange Pitou.

Arrest her if you dare,
You do it at your peril,
The song I say is mine.

Cho.

Let go the girl, or else we swear
We'll murder you as you stand there.

Pom.

Have mercy, pray.

Ange Pitou.

The song is mine I say.

Pom.

All ! 'tis too bad I say
T' arrest her on our wedding-day.

Cho.

No ! our child shall not be taken
Pris'ner on her wedding-day;
Clairette shall not be forsaken,
Nor a captive made, we say.

Clair

Oh! I'd rather far be taken
Than remain here free to-day,
For while in prison I am quaking,
I can't wed little Pomponnet.

Cho.

She shan't be ta'em away,
She must wed Pomponnet.

End of Act.

Act II.

Saloon in the house of Mdlle. Lange—brilliantly illuminated.

Mddles. Delaunay, Cydalise. Madame Herbelin, and others all dressed in the most exaggerated fashion of the period (Merveilleuses) and Larivaudiere.

Chorus of Merveilleuses.
No! we really cannot believe it,
Our minds will not receive it,
This story you tell is so strange;
Though we read it in the papers—
Such scandal, such dreadful capers,
Sure the world must be going to change.

Song and Chorus.

Men were made but for woman's diverting.

Cho.

And for flirting.
page 13

Lange.

And though we are weak and they are strong
We by the nose lead them along;
For we can coax and charm them still.
And make them do just as we will.
A soldier is just like a stupid bird—
All fuss and feathers, trained and spurred;
He thinks he knows a thing or two,
We'll show him that we do.
In woman's weakness lies her power,
The weapons that we prize
They flash from out our eyes;
And 'neath that flery shower
The strong man faints and dies.
At the glance of our eyes
He faints and dies.

Cho.

Men were made but for woman's diverting,
And for flirting:
And though we're weak and they are strong
We by the nose lead them along;
For we can coax and charm them still.
And make them do just as we will.

Lange.

Our enemy, though great he be,
The conqueror of Barbary.
He shall not make us fear
Tho' he took Aboukir;
We, without danger vict'ry gaining,
Our conquests have secured
By Smile and glance and word;
Much greater end? obtaining
Than he does by the sword.

Cho.

Men are made, &c.

Romance.

To worldly craft she's such a stranger
That she scarce knows what she should say,
And in her childish simple play
She's ignorant of ev'ry danger.
In this our Land of Liberty
She told the truth, and so you see
How very simple she must be;
Yes; she's to Liberty a stranger,
She is so innocent of evil,
That e'en the powerful she would chaff,
And meaning not to be uncivil,
'Gainst e'en the highest raise a laugh
page 14 And with a song so light and gay
She'd sing our characters away,
And all in simple childish play
She's to society a stranger.

Duet.—Clair and Lange.

(A due.) Oh ! happy, happy days of childhood,
When we sweetly lisped "Mamma," "Papa;"
When all our cares our mother mild would
Soothe, and teach us B A, ba.
Those days have vanished far away—
Ah! why could they no longer stay?

Lange. (solo.)

Do you remember when one summer's day
You told me all your life's strange story;
And, on the sly, we turned it to a play,
And acted it in solitary glory ?

Clair. (solo.)

And all the fishwives' polished talk
We pattered long ere we could walk,
And innocently swore and cursed,
And of market slang we used the worst.

Lange. (solo.)

That catechism I surely durst
Safely assert we learned the first.

A due.
Oh! happy, happy days, &c.

But now that I am rich and pretty,
What things they write and sing of me.

Clair. (solo.)

Alas! 'twas I who sang that ditty—
'Twas I who said such things of thee.

Lange.

I don't mind it now, my darling,
But in old times long ago
I'd have done a little snarling,
In the style of Ma'am Angôt.

(Sticks her arms akimbo, and, assumes the manner of a fish fag.)

Let me alone,
Ma'am'selle Suzon.
If you address me in that tone
I'll make you groan, and sigh, and moan,
For I'll demolish your chignon.

And I, on my part, would have said—
See this pink of virtue rare,
with her arms and legs all bare;
page 15 Sure it must be Venus fair,
Dressed in nothing but her hair,
Come from ocean's ebb and flow,
Just to make a good scare-crow.

Lange.

Yes : that's the way we'd have our say.

Clair.

Yes, bet you may; that was our way.

Lange.

That's worth all formal stiff propriety,
And the tone of your so-called best society.

A due.
Ah ! at school we lasses learnt a lot
Of curious things each day;
But whether from our books or not
I'd hardly dare to say;
And indeed no girls are fools
Who have studied in good schools.

Ha ! ha !

Lange.

Ha ! ha !

A due.
For our school days—hurrah !
Couplets.

Lange and Ange Pitou.

The Government sometimes is wrong,
It's very best friends must allow it;
But you may find out before long
That you blame it because you don't know it.
The Republic may not have an air
So soft, so alluring as mine.

Ange Pitou.

Sure no manner on earth can compare
With the grace that distinguishes thine.

Lange.

There is nothing impossible here,
Not even to recognise merit;
And tho' you will not own it. I fear,
The Republic admires your spirit.
The Government loves a brave man
Who points out its faults without shrinking.

Ange Pitou.

No more words, strive no longer I can,
I'm of you, not of politics, thinking.

Quintette.

Eh !

Louch.

Eh !

Lariv.

HOW !

Louch.

How !
page 16

Lange.

Now you know it all,
'Twas tor her
This gentleman did on us call.
Ugh! you horrid bear,
How you stare,
For ladies' nerves you little care.

Clair.

No I no ! it was myself, not she,
That Pitou came in here to see;
But still the fear that he was faithless
Made me quite uneasy be.

Lange.

Yes, I tell you t'was not me.
But t'other whom he came to see;
Yes! yes! you horrid growling bear,
For ladies' nerves you little care.

Ange Pitou.

Ah! then I see it was not she
That I was hither brought to see,
So from temptation I will flee,
Or lost I'll surely be.

Lariv.

So then it was not she
That this fellow came to see.

Louch.

No ! no ! it was not she
That this fellow came to see.

Lariv.

But hold ! This Pomponnet you've given your word to marry,
And you deceive me still?

Clair.

No, no ! in verity !

Lange (to Lariv.)

Your vile doubts away your judgment carry,
Can you distrust my sincerity ?

Lariv.

Dare you now swear, this instant, on your knees,
'Tis this young man you love?

Clair.

Yes ! since needs must, before heaven which my truth sees
That I love but him.

Lange.

Poor little thing; in saying that word Love
The blush would come, but what matter!

Louch.

I'm tired of all this patter.

Lariv.

And you too. my vocal friend here,
Was it love for Clairette did you send here?

Ange Pitou.

Most solemnly I vow and own
I came for her and her alone.

Lange (aside.)

Oh ! what a lie
Oh ! Fie ! fie !
page 17

Lariv.

On your word ?

Ange Pitou.

On my word.

Louch.

Oh ! what a lie !

Clair

A story so surprising
I never heard before,
And though doubts may be rising
They'll act on them no more.

Lange.

A story so surprising
I never heard before,
And tho' doubts may be rising
They'll act on them no more.

A. Pitou

A story more surprising
I never told before,
And tho' doubt? may be rising
They'll act on them no more.

Lariv.

A story so surprising
I never heard before,
And tho' doubts may be rising
I'll act on them no more.

Louch.

A story so surprising
I never heard before,
And tho' doubts may be rising
He'll act on them no more.

What say you now? You old woman ! you ass ! you blind bat ! you fool !. you jackdaw !

Lough.

Excuse me, pray; to err is human I but believe what I saw,
Though to my eyes all things do change;
Yet still I think.

Lariv.

What do you think?

Lough. (recollecting himself.)

That the lovely Ma'amselle Lange
Is of virtue the pink !

Lange

E'en a policeman allows it,
I'm an angel, good as gohd,
So you see ev'ry one knows it,
And my wings I'll soon untold.

Clair.

E'en this policeman allows it,
She's an angel, good as gold.
Ye? ! indeed ev'ry one knows it,
And her wings she'll soon unfold.
page 18

A. Pitou

Yes ! indeed ev'ry one knows it,
She's an angel, good as gold.
Yes ! indeed ev'ry one knows it,
And her wings she'll soon unfold.

Lariv.

E'en this policeman allows it.
She's an angel good as gold.
Yes ! indeed ev'ry one knows it,
And her wings she'll soon untold.

Louch.

I, a policeman, allow it,
She's an angel, good as gold.
Yes I indeed ev'ry one knows it
And her wings she'll soon unfold.

Enter Trenitz and Conspirators.
Finale.
Chorus of Conspirators.
When we Conspirators would be,
And turn the world topsy-turvee,
Each one must wear beneath his hat
A fair-haired wig, and black cravat.

As brother traitor, pray accept our greeting.

Tren.

We, ah heah, and in this place,
We ah not afwaid of meeting
A wegiment—we would not feah to face.

Ange Pitou.

Oh ! bravo !

Lange.

Pray calm these trembling fears;
I but present you a recruit,
The singer whom you've heard about;
Who, in the street, does every day
'Gainst wealth and power still raise his lay.

Tren.

But he don't weah beneath his hat,
A fair-haiwed wig and bwack cwavat.

Omnes.

No; he don't wear, beneath his hat,
A fair-haired wig and black cravat.

Clair. (enters.)

Ah ! you are here.

Omnes.

Who can this be?

Lange.

What on earth brings you back here?

Clair.

Oh! I fear
From my casement clear
Fierce soldiers do appear.
They're coming near—
Augereau's soldiers now are here.
page 19

Omnes.

The soldiers fierce are near;
Fly from here, fly from here!
The house is quite surrounded,
And we are all impounded.

Tren.

We're lost, I say.

Lange.

To save us there's one way;
To surprise these soldiers rough and hearty,
We'll improvise a wedding party.
Here's the Bridegroom and the fair Bride—
But all these wigs of yellow hair
And black cravats that you all wear—

Tren.

(throwing off wig and cravat, and showing red cravat.)
Bah! Theah goes wig and yellow haiah,
My black cwavat will follow—Theah!

Omnes.

There goes our wigs of yellow hair,
Our black cravats must follow—there!

(knocks outside.)

Lange, presenting her hand to Trenitz and Valsing.
Dancing, glancing,
All delight enhancing.
Oh! what pleasure,
Beyond measure,
Sweeter far than power or treasure.

Chorus of Ladies.
Dancing, glancing,
All delight enhancing.
Oh ! what pleasure,
Beyond measure,
Sweeter far than gold or power.

Full Chorus.
Dancing, glancing,
All delight enhancing.
Oh ! what pleasure,
Beyond measure,
Sweeter far than gold or power. Tra, la!

(enter soldiers.)

What would you have? Come, speak; what means this riot?

Officer.

We seek these traitors who are here.
page 20

Lange.

In my own humble home, I wish for peace and quiet.
The traitors you fear
Shall appear.
They are here.

(pointing to Clairette and Pitou.)
A wedding party is here assembled;
And tho' not invited, still welcome you'll be.
But tho' at your valour Egyptians have trembled,
You'll not find Parisians so weak in the knee.
Stay then, stay,
We heartily pray!
Mirth, feasting and pleasure's tho order of the day.
Happy we'll be,
For pleasure is free;
And you, Mister Officer, shall dance with me.
Around we'll spin.
See who will win—yes !
Dancing, &c.

Chorus. Dancing, &c.

Sure, in this world there's no pleasure like dancing.

Ange Pitou.

Oh! How I wish you for ever were mine.

Clair.

Ah! do not doubt, seize this moment entrancing,
I swear that my hand shall be thine, only thine.

Lange. (overhearing.)

"Only thine!" Clairette!

Officer.

Pray don't stop yet.

Lange.

Ah! no!

Officer.

Are you ill! One word and I go.

Lange.

No, no I 'tis nothing, a slight vertigo.

(aside)

Traitors to me,
But avenged I will be.

Cho.

Dancing, &c.

End of Second Act.

Act III.

Gardens of Calypso.

All the Market People, &c.

Grand Dance "Fricassee."

Room there, room there, lads and lasses,
Pleasure now is all the go.
For we can see whene'er she passes,
'Tis Mademoiselle Angôt.
page 21

Cadet.

Is't yourself ?

Amar.

Whence come you now ?

Cadet.

Where did you get such stunning clothes ?

Amar.

You won't refuse to tell I s'pose
Who gave these gaudy things to you.

Clair.

For me you've spent your money freely.
And brought me up nice and genteely,
And taught me still the truth to tell,
And I've obeyed you pretty well.
Whene'er I walked in square or street,
With eyes cast down each man I'd meet;
But, though I seem demure and quiet,
My nature impels me to noise and riot;
Yes! of Ma'am Angôt I'm the true daughter,
My blood can't run slow like cold water.
Look at me, and you'll know
That I'm Ma'am selle Angôt.

Cho.

Of Ma'am Angôt she's the true daughter, &c.

Clair.

You chose, I own it, with dejection,
A husband worthy of affection.
But ah ! I loved another man.
I can't help that ! Can you ? who can?
So, as my love I could not smother,
And I could not wed the other,
I thought it much the better way
To go to gaol on my wedding-day.
For of Ma'am Angôt I'm the true daughter, &c.

Cho.

Yes! of Ma'am Angôt, &c.

Lariv.

She is not here, I shall be off (going).

(They jostle each other.)

Duet.

Look where you're going, stupid ass!

Pom.

You fool;

A due.
What have I said?

He's a rough.

Pom. (getting away from each other.)

He's a rough.

A due.
Oh dear ! I fear that I am done for,
He'll surely find me out I fear;
Oh dear ! how queer—'twould be no fun, for
He's certainly a market rough.

(They put on a boastful air. and bully each other.)

page 22

I'd like to know if you've bad sight, sir,

Pom. (aside.)

'Tis said soft answers turn away wrath—

(Aloud.)

I don't see very well by night, sir.

Lariv. (aside.)

I believe he's frightened, by my troth.

(Aloud)

Look here, young man, I'm Bill the Bruiser!

Pom. (aside.)

If I should tremble 1 am lost—

(Aloud)

Old man, my name is Jim the Cruiser,
Of fistic science I can boast,
Blow me tight, will you fight?
Don't keep me here all night.
If you want a bellyful, put your dukes and perform.

Lariv.

'Tis by far too public here.

Pom.

I think the old un 'gins to fear—
(putting himself into shape) Come and take your gruel hot.

Lariv.

NO, thanks ! my own's at home now, in the pot.

(starts to escape—his hat and wig falls off, leaving his head quite bald.)

Why, what's the matter with his hair?

Lariv.

Mercy, pray! don't kill me quite.

Pom.

Why, surely 'tis Larivaudiére!

Lariv.

Alas, good sir, you are quite right!

Pom.

I'm the barber Pomponnet.

Lariv.

Pomponnet!

Pom.

Larivaudiére!

A due.
Ha ! ha ! ha ! &c.
Just twig his ugly mug there.
Oh ! yes, I see his pug there !
He put me in a pretty fright.
Dressed up like that at night.
Ha ! ha ! ha ! &c.

Trio.

I own my future spouse is handsome,
And charming I declare;
And as a friend I like him well,
But as a husband I do not care.

Pom.

Oh, dear! what is that I hear ?

Lariv.

'Tis very clear.

Clair.

Besides; I tell you plainly, I love another better far.

Pom.

Another!

Clair.

Another! handsomer, more manly.

Lariv.

'Tis very clear. That's the bar.
page 23

Pom.

Oh ! Groat Heauen, how I tremble.
I'm going to faint away.

Clair.

But he's beginning to dissemble.
And my true love to betray.
This is the matter so mysterious
Which must be brought to light,
The affair so grave and serious
Which calls us here to-night.

(a trè.)

This is the matter, &c.

Clair.

You must have heard of a wooman called Lange,
An actress, young, clever, and fair—

Pom.

(speaking.) Yes, I——

Lariv.

A little.

Clair.

Have you heard the story strange,
Which they're telling ev'rywhere?
For Barras she made believe to care;
But was not true,
She tricked him too
For that old ass Larivaudière.

Lariv. (furiously.)

Old ass!

Pom.

Turn about is fair play.

Clair.

To hear the rest I prithee stay,
This fair lady did not stop there;
But for a third gallant so gay,
She humbugged old Larivaudière.

Lariv.

Oh ! dear !
What is this I hear ?

Pom.

'Tis very clear.

Clair.

At her own house she now receives him,
And for the youthful lover here
She hoodwinks and deceives him.

Pom.

'Tis very clear.

Clair.

Ah ! Great Heaven ! how I tremble,
I am going to faint away,

Lariv.

And to my face does she dissemble,
And my false love tempts away.

(a tré.)

This is the matter so mysterious, &c.

Lariv.

By Jove, I am Larivaudière!

Clair.

You need not say.

Lariv.

The deuce you say.

Pom.

That's gay.

Clair. (giving him her hand.)

My bridegroom, Pomponnet.

Pom.

Look hero, I say.

Clair.

Only my way!
page 24

Lariv.

Revenge! Revenge, I cry.

Clair.

Be prudent, sharp, and sly,
And very soon the quarry will fly. (looking off.)
Ah ! there below, can it be ? Sure 'tis he !

Pom.

'Tis he.

Lariv.

What he?

Clair.

Revenge! No apology will do!
For to punish this false lover,
And my deep disgrace to cover,
I declare over and over (to Pomponnet)
I could almost marry you.
Come with mo,
You shall see
That I mean what I am saying,
And perhaps.
My brave chaps,
Into your hands I may be playing.
I desire
Vengeance dire,
All my blood is now on fire.

Lariv. and Pom.

We shall see, we shall see
If she means what she is saying;
And perhaps, lucky chaps,
Into our hands she may be playing.
Here's my hand, understand
That for one thing we are praying.
We desire
Vengeance dire,
All our blood is now on fire.

(Eenter Ange Pitou.)

Finale.

"Dear enemy whom I ought to detest,
To punish whom I ought to do my best,
I must confess—since there's no use in feigning,
My yielding heart, forgetting its disdaining,
Now humbly prays, to Belleville you will go
At nine to-night, at the Ball of Calypso;
There a fond and faithful damsel you will meet
Who treads all former quarrels 'neath her feet."

Lange.

And. is that signed?

Ange Pitou (shewing letter.)

The name is thine!
page 25

Lange.

Then 'tis forged—I'm betrayed.

Ange Pitou.

May be so ! but the letter and its messages are mine.

Lange.

But hear the other—(reading)—
"I know I'm silly in yielding to passion
Without e'en hope or joy to cheer me on;
But then I love you with such adoration
That for me, without you, pleasure life has really none.
There is a place close by your gates, quite free from noise or city riot,
A little ball, select and quiet;
There you can go,
Incognito,
Dressed like a woman of the market
And we'll meet in groves so dark it
'Twill ne'er be known that we did so.
You whom this heart doth fondly cherish.
Yes; you alone decide my fate.
If you delay I'll surely perish,
And when you come 'twill be too late."

Ange Pitou.

This really is enough to drive one mad. It is too bad.

Lange.

'Tis signed "Ange Pitou!"

(a due)

What shall we do now?
This meeting we shall rue now.

Lange.

Let's fly : there's time to say no more.

Ange Pitou.

Fly! oh! say why?
See you not 'tis ?
Who love, nay, who adore but thee,
And woe to him who shall my rival be.

Omnes.

(coming forward.) Ha! ha! ha!
Your secret's known,
To all the winds of Heaven 'tis blown.

Ange Pitou.

The one who stays me shall repent
That o'er he stand—

Clair. (appearing.)

I am that one.

Omnes.

Clairetta!

(Quarrel Scene.)

So then 'tis you, fine Madame Bubble,
Who makes all this toil and trouble;
Tho' of lovers you have two,
One very old and one not new;
page 26 But it you had of beaux a score
I do believe you'd cry for more.
This one you're welcome for to hug
Since you're so taken with his mug,
Although he did belong to me,
Yet you may have him, do you see
I make you a present of this chap,
For I don't value him a rap.
One old, one middle-ged, and one a boy makes three.
So with your triple lovers may you happy be.

Cho.

Hurrah ! she and no other
Could give it to her so;
True daughter of her mother,
Pitch in Ma'am'selle Angôt.

Lange.

Oh! what a gentle simple maid;
I'm really very much afraid
That for a lady, fine as she,
We arc not fit society.
Such choice and pretty flow'rs of speech
Are not in ev'rybody's reach.
So, in accomplishments so rare,
I'm sure with you I can't compare.
But, next time, if you'd keep your sweetheart,
Don't let him my features see;
Or you'll find 'twill be indeed hard
To keep him off from spooning me.
A nod's as good's a wink To a blind
horse, so they say;
So go home, and be wiser for another day.

Lariv.

Ah ! 'tis too much. To brave me thus you dare.

Lange.

Good gracious me; 'tis he!

Lariv.

Yes; 'tis Larivaudière!

Lange.

Ha ! ha ! ha !

Cho.

Ha ! ha ! ha !

Lariv.

Rage and anger chokes me quite;
Faithless woman, I know all;
But be sure, this very night
Vengeance on your heads shall fall.

Ange Pitou.

You keep quiet.
All this riot
Will not mend affairs one bit.
Dry up talking,
Off be walking,
Or your head I'll surely split.

page 27

(Ensemble.)

Yes, my dear, you
Need not fear to
Of my lover me deprive;
For I tell you
Such a fellow

Lange.

Will lead you an awful life.
Oh ! my dear, I
Really fear I
Of your lover you deprive;
Such a fellow,
I must toll you,
Is not often met in life.

Ange Pitou.

Pray keep quiet,
All this riot
Will not mend affairs one bit—
Dry up talking,
Off be walking,

Pom.

Or your head I'll surely split.
Let them go it,
For I know it,
All their anger will have died
In a minute;
All this din it
Into silence will subside.

Lariv.

'Tis past joking,
I am choking;
Tremble ! for I all do know.
Vengeance dread now,
On your head now
My great rage will surely flow.

Chor.

Come, keep quiet,
All this riot
Will not mend affairs one bit.
Dry up talking,
Off' be walking,
Or your head will surely split.

Clair.

We've had enough of all this scandal.
Lange! here's my hand!

Lange.

After such a fight?

Clair.

Don't give our enemies a handle,
We've had it out, so don't keep spite.

Lange.

All right!

Lariv.

But this aint right.
page 28

Clair.

Be quiet ! If to speak you dare
I'll split on that little affair
Which I found out last night.

Lange.

Come then, your sister now be greeting,
I here propose a merry meeting;
What say you, my dear friends?

Omnes.

Ah! yes, indeed, we're all your friends.

Pom. (seeing Clairette weep).

What's this? surely she is weeping.

Clair.

I ! No.

Pom.

Yes! yes, indeed 'tis so.

Omnes.

Why are you weeping?

Clair.

No 'tis nothing.

Ange Pitou.

If one, repenting, could but show you,
If to your side I dared to creep.

Clair.

Ah! no, indeed you do not know me,
'Tis not for such as you I'd weep.
Oh! yes indeed I'm sorry,
And weep to think it true
That e'er I thought to marry
A nincompoop like you.
If I my hand should offer now
To worthy Pomponnet,
He would refuse the proffer now
And turn from me away.

Pom.

Only try me,
Don't deny me,
I know' when I am well off;
I will take you,
And will make you
One at whom no tongue dare scoff.

Omnes.

Don't delay now,
But to-day now,
Trust me, it is better so,
That the padlock
Firm, of wedlock
Should make fast Ma'amselle Angôt.

Ange Pitou.

It has not ended
As I intended,
But perhaps 'tis better so;
Time will show.

Lange.

So now all troubles over,
Each take partners for the dance.
page 29

Pom.

Yes, let us have a wedding,
To show how we do in France.

Lange.

But where's the bride ?

Clair.

Where? Here!
Yes ! of Ma'am Angôt
I'm the true daughter,
My blood can't run slow
Like cold water.
Look at me and you'll know
That Pm Ma'amselle Angôt.

Chorus and Characters.

Yes Ma'am Angôt
She's the true daughter,
Her Mood can't run slow
Like cold water.
Ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho !
Hurrah for Ma'amselle Angôt!