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No. 11 - Finale Act I - "What's the matter"
| Girls: | What's the matter? we're dead with fright At being disturbed at this hour of night! What's the reason for all this din That woke us from sleep that we were in? |
| Men: | What's the cause of our being all So suddenly fetched from the Dingley Dell? We want to know, and we ask in vain; Will one of you gentlemen please explain? |
| Girls: | Explain! |
| Men: | Explain! |
| Girls: | Explain! |
| Men: | Explain! |
| All: | A gentlemen please explain. |
| Miss Tompkins: | That villain tried with intention grim To make Arabella elope with him. |
| Pickwick: | 'Twas that I came here to prevent, I vow on my honor I'm innocent. |
| Chorus: | Pickwick! There's the man who did the trick! |
| Wardle: | Where's my daughter, reprobate? See what a fright you gave her! |
| Pickwick: | But Wardle, I assure you that. |
| Polly: | He only tried to save her. |
| Pickwick: | My course was clear... |
| Tup. Wink. & Snod: | Hear! hear! |
| Pickwick: | ...to interfere; |
| Tup. Wink. & Snod: | Hear! hear! |
| Pickwick: | Thus I could quite upset the plan
they had constructed, And with a heroism grand I came alone to be on hand. So I saved your daughter there from being abducted. |
| Chorus: | Oh! |
| Mrs. Bardell: | No! It isn't the truth I swear He's telling to you down there. A moment ago as I happen to know He was up in this room, just here! |
| Chorus: | It's shocking indeed to hear A story that sounds so queer. You may well turn pale At her terrible tale That's apparently quite sincere, Though on her it's a bit severe. |
| Pickwick: | If it was not for the path of glory I have yet to tread; And the benefits Pickwickian to show'r on this world's head, I could find it in my heart to almost wish that I was dead! |
| Sam: | You'll excuse my sayin' guv'nor, But you'd better go to bed. |
| Pickwick: | My friends I do assure you. |
| All: | Go and hide your guilty head. |
| Pickwick: | But ladies, I implore you. |
| Sam: | Come on, guv'nor, come to bed. |
| Chorus: | The discovery so dread That has fallen on your head, When we find you would have fled With the lady overhead; Or the other one instead, Makes us ask you to be led By your man who rightly said You had better go to bed. Speak low, speak low, let's whisper as we go, and creep along on tip-toe just as quietly as mice. Tread light, tread light, a kiss and then good-night, Your head once on the pillows you'll be sleeping in a trice. |
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American Musical Theatre | Mr. Pickwick
Page modified 11 February 2017