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No. 10: Chorus with solos (Nita, Pietro and Bartolo)
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Chiavari without.
Enter Chorus of Girls, running
and heralding the approach of
PIETRO,
BARTOLO,
and NITA. PIETRO is
driving a Palermo donkey-cart. BARTOLO is
dressed as a clown. NITA as
a rope-dancer. BARTOLO carries a big
drum and
Pandean pipes.
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| PIETRO. | Come, strike up, Mister Merryman, while I inform the universe, | |
| In metrical and tuny verse — | ||
| BARTOLO. | In metrical and tuny verse — | |
| PIETRO. | That here’s an exhibition that is highly intellectual — | |
| To see it we expect you all — | ||
| BARTOLO. | To see it we expect you all. | |
| PIETRO. | Come, empty all your pockets, for I’m not a common mountebank, | |
| I’ve money in the County Bank — | ||
| BARTOLO. | He’s money in the County Bank. | |
| PIETRO. | And I can give you value for your coppers insignificant — | |
| And I’ll return ’em if I can’t — | ||
| BARTOLO. | And he’ll return ’em if he can’t. | |
SONG — BARTOLO.
| Though I’m a buffoon, recollect | |||
| I command your respect! | |||
| I cannot for money Be vulgarly funny, |
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| My object’s to make you reflect! | |||
| True humour’s a matter in which | |||
| I’m exceedingly rich. | |||
| It ought to delight you, Although, at first sight, you |
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| May not recognize it as sich. | |||
| Other clowns make you laugh till you sink, | |||
| When they tip you a wink; | |||
| With attitude antic, They render you frantic — |
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| I don’t. I compel you to think! | |||
| For, oh, this is a world of insincerity
and trouble, And joy is imbecility and happiness a bubble, And you’re a lot of butterflies who flutter through a summer, And he’s a mountebank, and I’m a miserable mummer! |
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| CHORUS. | |
| It’s possible the world is insincerity
and trouble, And happiness, for all I know, is nothing but a bubble; Perhaps we may be butterflies who flutter through a summer, And you’re, without a doubt, a very miserable mummer! |
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| NITA (dancing). | |||
| I’ve a dance That came from France |
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| Not long ago — | |||
| It’s worthy of your silver and your copper. | |||
| It’s my own And I alone |
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| Its mazes know — | |||
| It’s graceful and particularly proper. | |||
| I assist As soloist, |
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| Upon a squeeze, | |||
| On the trumpet and the kettledrum sonorous,. | |||
| I’ve a song That’s just as long |
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| As you may please — | |||
| Twenty verses, and each verse has got a chorus! | |||
| CHORUS. | |
| Now that’s the kind of merriment
you ought to set before us; Only fancy — twenty verses, and each verse has got a chorus. To such an entertainment we could listen for a summer; But save us from the humour of this melancholy mummer! |
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