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Chrononotonthologos
The Most Tragical Tragedy that ever was Tragedized
by Any Company of Tragedians


2017

soprano: Fadladinida, Queen of Queerumahnia
mezzo-soprano: Tatlanthe, her favorite
countertenor: Aldoborontiphoscophornio, a courtier
tenor: Poet / Chrononhotonthologos, King of Queerumahnia
baritone: Bombardinian, his general / Rigdum-Funnidos, a courtier
female or male: Herald; Cook; Doctor; Cupid; King of the Antipodes
female: Venus; 1st Lady of the Court; 2nd Lady of the Court
male: The King of the Fiddlers; A Captain of the Guard

clarinet doubling bass clarinet and bass harmonica
sopranino saxophone doubling alto saxophone and tenor sxophone
percussion
 
 bones; 4 cans; 3 cowbells; flexatone; floor tom-tom; frame drum (played mounted and   
  unmounted); mark-tree; micro snare drum; pop gun; ratchet; sizzle cymbal toy piano
  trash cymbal; triangle; tambourine (played mounted and unmount
ed); 2 vibraslaps
violin doubling bass harmonica

electronic playback pre-recorded samples, triggered from a laptop

satellite ensemble optional: comprising any (and any number of) portable pitched instruments
floating chorus optional: comprising any (and any number of) voice types, including cast members
   with small or non-singing roles



duration 90'

first performance: Guerilla Opera / Boston Conservatory at Berklee / November 3, 2017



SCORE


PROGRAM NOTE
Chrononhotonthologos is a tricky piece to write a program note for: the plot, such as it is, fizzes up into action that leads nowhere much; the characters seem for a while to have purpose, but really don't; narrative tensions are dropped and glossed over in subsequent scenes; and the final bloodbath is followed by a shift of emphasis that resolves the opera in a sideways manner. But, Chrononhotonthologos is not a dull or directionless play, but the characters themselves are vapid, self-important, and mildly duplicitous by turns, and it's no surprise to find that the world they have engendered and now inhabit is equally vapid and superficial.

Before starting composing Chrononhotonthologos I knew I wanted to avoid two of the commonest habits of contemporary opera: extended parlando; modern recit, in other words, unbroken by a modern equivalent to the much-needed 'aria'; and action being forever reported through narrative instead of being witnessed, turning opera into a staged report instead of an immediate dramatic work. So I decided to make this piece unequivocally simple, catchy, tuneful, and repetetive. Underlying the whole opera are some very, very, straightforward and recognizable musical manoeuvres, especially from the simplest of pop music: I, IV, V, IV harmonic progressions, solid downbeats galore, cadences (not always to where you might expect, though), many repeated patterns, and a chaconne-like descending bassline at the close (think Dido's Lament and/or Hey Jude, perhaps). These are common materials – but they've been put through a skewed filter.

I've been thinking, off and on, about Chrononhotonthologos since I first read it at age 20. It's long been out of print, but luckiiy: the internet. I still see it as a goad to the often seen connection between stupidity and privilege. My reading of the play happened during the dismayingly spiteful Thatcher years in England. Now that we have a newly spiteful era of our own, perhaps this 1734 play has – sadly – resonance yet again.


SCENARIO

Scene 1:
After a Prologue sung by the Poet we hear the two courtiers, Aldoborontiphoscophornio and Rigdum-Funnidos, discussing how King Chrononhotonthologos is finding it difficult to sleep amidst all the toil of war. The king enters and declares his own war on sleep; "Henceforth let no man sleep, on pain of death;
Instead of sleep, let pompous pageantry keep all mankind eternally awake." There follows an entertainment interrupted by the Captain of the Guard who relays the news that the army of the Antipodeans (who walk on their hands with their feet in the air, carrying their heads) has erupted from deep in the earth and laid seige to the king's citadel. A new war is on.

Scene 2:
Queen Fadladinida, with her attendant Tatlanthe and two ladies of the court, needs entertainment. First she suggests cards with tea. Then she decides upon glasses of ratifia and music from the King of the Fiddlers, lately arrived from France. The Queen commands him to play 'The Green Foke' and they all dance. After this, some tea, some flattery, the bell rings, and they leave for prayers.

Scene 3:
The King of the Antipodeans has been captured and all of his army have run off. Discussing the situation, Aldoborontiphoscophornio tells Rigdum-Funnidos that the queen has fallen in love with the captured king. Chrononhotonthologos enters to much pageantry, followed by some flattery. But why isn't Fadladinida here to welcome him? Aldoborontiphoscophornio lies to cover for her: "A sudden diarrhoea's rapid force so stimulates the peristaltic motion, that she by far out-does her late out-doing, and all conclude her royal life in danger." The king, distressed now, promises his empire to any who can cure her, and they all exit.

Scene 4:
The Queen and Tatlanthe are in a garden. Tatlanthe tries to ingatiate herself with the queen by praising Chrononhotonthologos. This, of course, is a mistake. Eventually she realizes that the focus of the queen's affections is now the King of the Antipodeans.

Scene 5:
Chrononhotonthologos is sleeping through the sounds of "Salt Boxes and Rolling Pins, Grid-Irons and Tongs, Sow-Gelders Horns, Marrow-Bones and Cleaver", cured now of insomnia, it seems. A Herald arrives with a message from the king's general, Bombardinian, inviting him to his tent on the battlefield to "suspend a-while . . . the toils of war" and indulge his appetites. The king agrees to this, and gallops off.

Scene 6:
Fadladinida visits the captive king in his prison cell. She beseeches Venus and Cupid to help her gain his love. The two deities obligingly descend and promise her assistance. Cupid telling her that by nightfall she shall be a widow and have two new young husbands. She thanks "Mr. Cupid" and with the King of the Antipodeans in tow, exits.

Scene 7:
In which everyone takes offense at each other, leaving all but the two courtiers, the queen, and Tatlanthe dead. As this story winds down the Poet returns and gradually introduces Matthew Arnold's
poem Dover Beach into the action until this elegiaic poem takes over from the atomized snippets of "plot" left, and in doing so provides a commentary on what we've just seen and heard.

LIBRETTO

PROLOGUE

Queen, Tatlanthe, Aldoborontiphoscophornio, Poet, Rigdum-Funnidos
Chrononhotonthologos
Chrononhotonthologos
The Most Tragical Tragedy that ever was Tragedized by Any Company of Tragedians:
Chrononhotonthologos
Chrononhotonthologos
Chrononhotonthologos

Poet                        
First the role of Poet I play,
Later that of King.
As Poet now, to introduce,
This Prologue I sing:

Tonight our comic Muse the buskin wears,
And gives herself no small romantic airs;
Struts in heroics, and in pompous verse
Does the minutest incidents rehearse;
In ridicule's strict retrospect displays
The Poetasters of these modern days.
When the big bellowing bombast rends our ears,
Which, stript of sound, quite void of sense appears;
Or when the fiddle-faddle numbers flow.
Serenely dull, elaborately low,
The quite tired audience lose whole hours, yet pay
To go un-pleas'd and un-improv'd away.
This being our scheme, we hope you will excuse
The wild excursion of the wanton Muse.
'Tis meant to please, but, if it should offend,
It's very short, and soon will have an end.
Exit Poet


SCENE I: An Antechamber in the Palace

Enter Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Enter Rigdum-Funnidos

Aldoborontiphoscophornio, Rigdum-Funnidos
An Antechamber in the Palace.
An Antechamber in the Palace,
An Antechamber in the Palace.

Rigdum-Funnidos
Aldoborontiphoscophornio!
Aldoborontiphoscophornio!
Where left you King Chrononhotonthologos?

Aldoborontiphoscophornio              
Fatigued with the tremendous toils of war,
Within his tent, on downy couch succumbent,
Himself he unfatigues with gentle slumbers.
Lull'd by the cheerful trumpet's gladsome clangor,
The Noise of Drums and thunder of artillery    
He sleeps supine amidst the din of war.
And yet 'tis not definitively sleep,
Rather a kind of doze, a waking slumber
That sheds a stupefaction o'er his senses,
For now he nods and snores; anon he starts;
Then nods and snores again. If this be sleep,
Tell me, ye Gods! what mortal man's awake!
What says my friend, Rigdum-Funnidos, to this?

Rigdum-Funnidos
Say! I say he sleeps dog-sleep,
I say he sleeps dog-sleep.

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
O impious thought! Accursed insinuation!
As if great Chrononhotonthologos
To animals detestable and vile
Had aught the least similitude!

Rigdum-Funnidos
My dear friend! you entirely misapprehend me;
I was going to tell you that the soldiers have just now receiv'd their pay,
and are as drunk as so many swabbers.

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Give orders instantly that no more money
Be issued to the troops; mean-time,
Let the baths be fill'd with seas of coffee,
To stupify their souls into sobriety.

Rigdum-Funnidos
Yes,

Aldoborontiphoscophornio, Rigdum-Funnidos
Let the baths be fill'd with seas of coffee,
To stupify their souls into sobriety.

Rigdum-Funnidos
Sobriety.
Thou counsels't well, Aldoborontiphoscophornio,
And reason seems to father thy advice.
Rigdum-Funnidos spies the King approaching
But soft! The King in pensive contemplation
Seems to resolve on some important doubt.
His soul, too copious for his earthly fabrick,
Starts forth, spontaneous, in soliloquy,
And makes his tongue the midwife of his mind.

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Let us retire, lest we disturb his solitude.
Rigdum-Funnidos fails to take Aldoborontiphoscophornio's cue to leave
Let we disturb his solitude.
Let we disturb his solitude
Exit Rigdum-Funnidos and Aldoborontiphoscophornio

Enter King
King
This God of Sleep torments me.
Rest is grown a stranger to my eyes;
Thou idle slumb'rer, thou detested Somnus:
Sport not with Chrononhotonthologos,
For, if thou dost, by all the waking pow'rs
I'll tear thine eye-balls from their leaden sockets,
And force thee to out-stare eternity.
King exits in a huff

Re-enter Rigdum-Funnidos and Aldoborontiphoscophornio

Rigdum-Funnidos
The king is in a most accursèd Passion!
Pray who the devil is this Mr. Somnus, he's so angry withal?

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
The son of Chaos and of Erebus,
Incestuous pair! Brother of Thanatos relentless,
Whose speckled robe and wings of blackest hue
Astonish all mankind with hideous glare:
Himself with sable plumes, to men benevolent,
Brings downy slumbers and refreshing sleep.

Rigdum-Funnidos spies the King returning
Rigdum-Funnidos
Lo! the King, his footings this way bending,
His cogitative faculties immers'd
in cogibundity of cogitation.
                                  
Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Let silence close our folding-doors of speech,
'Till apt attention tell our hearts the purport
Of this profound profundity of thought.
Again, Rigdum-Funnidos fails to take Aldoborontiphoscophornio's cue to leave
Re-enter King

King
Now, Somnus, I defy thee,
And from mankind ampute thy curs'd dominion.
Henceforth let no man sleep, on pain of death;
Instead of sleep, let pompous pageantry
Keep all mankind eternally awake.
Bid Harlequino decorate the stage
With all magnificence of decoration;
Giants and giantesses,
Songs, dances, music in its amplest order,
Mimes, pantomimes, and all the magic motion
Of scene deceptiovisive and sublime.
The King sits and the Entertainment is set up
The King is seated, and a grand Pantomime Entertainment is performed
In the midst of the Entertainment, enter a Captain of the Guards

Captain of the Guards
To arms! to arms! great Chrononhotonthologos!
Th' Antipodean pow'rs, from realms below,
Have burst the solid entrails of the earth;
Gushing such cataracts of forces forth
This world is too incopious to contain them.
Armies on armies march in form stupendous;
Not like our earthly regions, rank by rank,
But tier o'er tier, high pil'd from earth to heaven.
A blazing bullet, bigger than the sun,
Shot from a huge and monstrous culverin,
Has laid your royal citadel in ashes.

King
Peace, Coward!
One look from Chrononhotonthologos
Shall scare them into nothing.
Bid General Bombardinian draw his legions forth,
And meet us in the plains of Queerummahnia.
Bid all the priests prepare their temples
For rites of triumph, let the singing singers,
With vocal voices most vociferous,
In sweet vociferation, out-vociferize
Even sound itself. So be it as we have ordered.
Exeunt Omnes



SCENE 2: A magnificent apartment
Enter Queen, Tatlanthe, and two Ladies

Queen, Tatlanthe
A magnificent apartment
A magnificent apartment

Queen
Day's curtain's drawn, the morn begins to rise,
And waking nature rubs her sleepy eyes.
The pretty little fleecy bleating flocks
In baas harmonious warble through the rocks.
Night gathers up her shades in sable shrouds,
And whispering oziers tattle to the clouds.
What think you, ladies, if an hour we kill,
At Basset, Ombre, Picquet, or Quadrille?

Tatlanthe
Your majesty was pleas'd to order tea.

Queen
My mind is alter'd, bring some ratifee.
They are served round with a dram
I have a famous Fiddler sent from France.
Bid him come in. What think ye of a dance?
Enter King of the Fiddlers

King of the Fiddlers

Thus to your Majesty says the suppliant muse
Wou'd you a solo or sonata chuse;
Or bold concerto, or soft Sicilinia,
Alla Francese overo in Gusto Romano?
When you command, 'tis done as soon as spoke.

Queen
A civil fellow!—play us the Green Foke.
Queen and Ladies dance the Green Foke
So much for dancing, now let's rest awhile.
Bring in the tea-things, does the kettle boil?

Tatlanthe
The water bubbles, and the tea-cups skip,
Through eager hope to kiss your royal lip.
Tea brought in

Queen
Come, ladies, will you choose your tea;
Or green imperial, or Pekoe bohea?

1st Lady
Never, no, never sure on earth was seen
So gracious, sweet, and affable a queen.

2nd Lady
She is an angel.

1st Lady
She's a goddess rather.

Tatlanthe, 1st Lady, 2nd Lady
She's angel, queen, and goddess altogether,
Altogether,
Altogether.

Queen
Away! you flatter me.

1st Lady, 2nd Lady
We don't indeed;
Your merit does our praise by far exceed.

Queen
You make me blush; pray help me to a fan.

2nd Lady
That blush becomes you.

Tatlanthe
Would I were a man.    

Queen
I'll hear no more of these fantastic airs
The bell rings in; come, ladies, let's to pray'rs.
They dance off


SCENE 3: An Antechamber
Enter Aldoborontiphoscophornio and Rigdum-Funnidos

Aldoborontiphoscophornio, Rigdum-Funnidos
An Antechamber.
An Antechamber.
An Antechamber.

Rigdum-Funnidos
Egad, we're in the wrong box—
who the devil would have thought that the king
would beat that mortal fight of Tippodeans?
Why, there's not aone of them to be seen 'egad;
they footed it away a fast as their hands cou'd carry 'em.
But they have left their king behind.
We have him safe, that's one comfort.

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Wou'd he were still at amplest liberty!
But, oh! my dearest Rigdum-Funnidos,
I have a riddle to unriddle to thee
Shall make thee stare thyself into a statue:
Our Queen's in love with this Antipodean.

Rigdum-Funnidos
The devil she is! Well, I see the mischief is
going forward with a vengeance.
But, lo! the conq'ror comes all crown'd with conquest!
A solemn triumph graces his return.

Aldoborontiphoscophornio, Rigdum-Funnidos
Let's grasp the forelock of this apt occasion
To greet the victor, in his flow of glory.
Enter Chrononhotonthologos

Aldoborontiphoscophornio, Rigdum-Funnidos
All hail,all hail to Chrononhotonthologos.
All hail, all hail  to Chrononhotonthologos!
Thrice trebly welcome to your loyal subjects.

Myself and faithful Rigdum-Funnidos,
Myself and faithful Aldoborontiphoscophornio,

Lost in a labyrinth of love and loyalty,
Intreat you to inspect our inmost souls
And read in them what tongue,
What tongue can never utter.
Can never utter.
Never utter.
Utter.

King                        
Aldiborontiphoscophornio,
To thee, and gentle Rigdum-Funnidos,
Our gratulations flow in streams unbounded.
Our bounty's debtor to your loyalty,
Which shall with int'rest be repaid e're long.
But where's our queen! where's Fadladinida?
She should be foremost in this gladsome train,
To grace our triumph; but I see she flights me.
This haughty queen shall be no longer mine!

Rigdum-Funnidos
Whispers to Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Now, my dear little Phoscophorny, for a swinging lie
to bring the queen off, and to save her face.
I'll run with it to her this minute, that we may all be in the story.
Say she has got the thorough-go-nimble,
The thorough-go-nimble.
Rigdum-Funnidos steals off

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Speak not, great Chrononhotonthologos,
In accents so injuriously severe
Of Fadladinida, your faithful queen;
By me she sends an embassy of love,
Sweet blandishment and kind congratulations,
But, cannot, oh! she cannot, come herself.
But, cannot, oh! she cannot,
But, cannot, she cannot come herself.

King
Our rage is turn'd to fear— what ails the queen?          

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
A sudden diarrhoea's rapid force
So stimulates the peristaltic motion
That she by far out-does her late out-doing,
And all conclude her royal life in danger.

King
Bid the physicians of the world assemble
In consultation solemn and sedate.
More, to corroborate their sage resolves,
Call from their graves Galen, Hippocrates, and Paracelsus,
the learned men of old.
Doctors, apothecaries, surgeons, chemists,
All! all! attend. And see they bring their med'cines.
Whole magazines of gallipotted nostrums
Materializ'd in pharmaceutic order.
The man that cures our queen shall have our empire.
Exeunt Omnes


SCENE 4: A Garden
Enter Tatlanthe and Queen

Tatlanthe
A Garden.

Queen
A Garden.

Tatlanthe
A Garden.

Queen, Tatlanthe
A Garden,
A Garden.

Queen
Heigh ho! my heart!

Tatlanthe
What ails my gracious queen?

Queen
O would to Venus I had never seen!

Tatlanthe
Seen what, my royal mistress?

Queen
Too, too much!

Tatlanthe
Did it affright you?

Queen
No, 'tis nothing such.

Tatlanthe
What was it, madam?

Queen
Really I don't know.

Tatlanthe
It must be something!

Queen
No!

Tatlanthe
Or nothing?

Queen
No.         

Tatlanthe
Then I conclude since it was neither,
Nothing and something jumble well together.

Queen
Oh! my Tatlanthe, have you never seen!

Tatlanthe
Can I guess what, unless you tell, my queen!

Queen
The king, I mean.

Tatlanthe
Just now return'd from war,
He rides like Mars in his triumphal car.
Conquest precedes with laurels in her hand;
Behind her Fame does on her tripos stand;
Her golden trump shrill thro' the air she sounds,
Which rends the earth and thence to heaven rebounds.
Trophies and spoils innumerable grace
This triumph, which all triumphs does deface;
Haste then, great queen! your hero to meet!
Who longs to lay his laurels at your feet.

Queen
Art mad, Tatlanthe?
I meant no such thing.
Your talk's distasteful.

Tatlanthe
Did you not name the king?

Queen
I did, Tatlanthe, but not thine:
The charming king I mean is only mine.

Tatlanthe
Who else, who else, but such a charming fair
In Chrononhotonthologos should share?
The queen of beauty and the god of arms
In him and you united blend their charms.
Oh! had you seen him, how he dealt out death,
And at one stroke robb'd thousands of their breath:
The gods all hail'd, and fain would have him stay:
But your bright charms have call'd him thence away.

Queen
This does my utmost indignation raise,
You are too pertly lavish in his praise.
Leave me for ever!
Tatlanthe kneels

Tatlanthe
Oh! what shall I say?
Do not your anger thus display!
O frown me dead!
Let me not live to hear
My mistress so severe!
I've made some horrible mistake, no doubt,
Oh, tell me what it is!

Queen
No, find it out.

Tatlanthe
I will never leave you; here I'll grow
Till you some token of forgiveness show.
Oh! all ye pow'rs above, come down, come down!
And from her brow dispel that angry frown.

Queen
Tatlanthe, rise, you have prevail'd at last;
Offend no more, and I'll excuse what's past.

Tatlanthe
Aside, rising
Why, what a fool was I, not to perceive her
passion for the topsy-turvy king, the gentleman that
carries his head where his heels should be?
But I must tack about I see.
To the Queen
Excuse me, gracious madam! if my heart
Bears sympathy with yours in ev'ry part.
With you alike I sorrow and rejoice,
Applaud your passion, and commend your choice;
The captive king—

Queen
That's he! that's he! that's he!

Tatlanthe
The captive king—

Queen

That's he!
I'd die ten thousand deaths to set him free.
Oh! my Tatlanthe! have you seen his face,
His air, his shape, his mein, his ev'ry grace?
In what a charming attitude he stands,
How prettily he foots it with his hands!
Well, to his arms, no, to his legs I fly,
For I must have him, if I live or die,
For I must have him, if I live or die.
Exeunt 


SCENE 5: A Bed Chamber
Chrononhotonthologos asleep
Enter Captain of the Guards

Captain of the Guards
A Bed Chamber.
Chrononhotonthologos asleep.
Rough music;
Salt Boxes and Rolling Pins, Grid-Irons and Tongs,     
Sow-Gelders Horns, Marrow-Bones and Cleavers,
Etcetera, etcetera.
The king wakes

King
What heav'nly sounds are these that charm my ears?
Sure 'tis the musick of the tuneful spheres.

Captain of the Guards
A messenger from General Bombardinian
Craves instant audience of your majesty.

King
Give him admittance.

Enter Herald
Herald
Long life to Chrononhotonthologos!
Your faithful general, Bombardinian,
Sends you his tongue, transplanted in my mouth,
To pour his soul out in your royal ears.

King
Then use thy master 's tongue with reverence,
Nor waste it in thine own loquacity.
Declare thy message.

Herald
Suspend a-while, great Chrononhotonthologos,
The fate of empires and the toils of war,
And in my tent let's quaff Phalernian wine
Till our souls mount, and emulate the gods.
Two captive females, beauteous as the morn,
Submissive to your wishes, court your option.
Haste then, great king, to bless us with your presence.
Our scouts already watch the wish'd approach,
Which shall be welcom'd by the drum's dread rattle,
The cannon's thunder, and the trumpet's blast.

King
Tell him I come.
My flying steed prepare.
Ere thou art half on horseback I'll be there.
Exeunt

 

SCENE 6: A Prison
The King of the Antipodes discovered sleeping on a Couch
Enter
Queen

Queen
A Prison
Is this place, oh!
a fir reception for the man I love?
See in what sweet tranquility he sleeps.
While Nature's self at his confinement weeps.
Rise, lovely Monarch!
Rise, rise, rise, lovely Monarch!
The King of the Antipodes awakes

King of the Antipodes

Argle bargle.
Argle bargle.

Queen
See, only I, your friend, appear.
No Chrononhotonthologos is here.
Command your freedom by this sacred ring;
Then command me: what says my charming king?
Then command me: what says my charming king?
Queen places the ring in his hand

King of the Antipodes
Margle bargle bubargle bargle bo-ow-oo.

Queen
What can this mean! he lays his feet at mine.
Is this of love or hate his country's sign?

King of the Antipodes
Mubargle bubargle argle bobargle oo.

Queen
Ah, wretched queen! how hapless is thy lot,
To love a man that understands thee not!
Oh! lovely Venus, goddess all divine!
And gentle Cupid, that sweet son of thine,
Assist, assist me with your sacred art,
And teach me to obtain this stranger's heart.
Venus descends

Venus
See Venus does attend thee,
  My Dilding, My Dolding,
Love's Goddess will befriend thee,
  Lilly bright and shinee.

With Pity and Compassion,
  My Dilding, My Dolding,
She sees thy tender Passion,
  Lilly bright and shinee.

To thee I yield my Pow'r divine,
Demand whate'er thou wilt, 'tis thine,
Take this magic Wand in Hand,
All the World's at thy Command,
Cupid descends

Cupid
Are you a Widow, or are you a Wife?
  Gilly Flow'r, gentle Rosemary.
Or are you a Maiden, so fair and so bright?
  As the Dew that flies over the Mulberry-Tree.

Queen
Would I were a Widow, as I am a Wife,
  Gilly Flow'r, gentle Rosemary.
But I'm, to my Sorrow, a Maiden as bright,
  As the Dew that flies over the Mulberry-Tree.

Cupid
You shall be a Widow before it is Night,
  Gilly Flow'r, gentle Rosemary.
No longer a Maiden so fair and so bright,
Two jolly young Husbands your Person shall share,
  As the Dew that flies over the Mulberry-Tree.

Queen
O Thanks, Mr.Cupid! for this good News,
What Woman alive would such favours refuse?

Queen, King of the Antipodes
Gilly Flow'r, gentle Rosemary.
Margle bargle bubargle bargle bee

And the Dew that flies over the Mulberry-Tree.
Marrabargle barrabargle marraballa bee.
Venus and Cupid re-ascend;
the Queen goes off, and the King of the Antipodes follows, walking on his hands.


Scene 7: BOMBARDINIAN'S Tent.
Chrononhotonthologos and Bombardinian, at a Table, with two Girls, and Cook

Bombardinian
I am General Bombardinian.
This is Bombardinian's Tent.
My tent!
This honour, royal sir! so royalizes
The royalty of your most royal actions.
To Cook
Here, fill the goblet with Phalernian wine,     
And, while our monarch drinks, bid the shrill trumpet play.

King
Hold, Bombardinian, I esteem it fit
With so much wine, to eat a little bit.

Bombardinian
To Cook
See that the table instantly be spread
With all that art and nature can produce.
Traverse from pole to pole; sail round the globe,
Bring every eatable that can be eat.
The king shall eat, though all mankind be starv'd.

Cook
I am afraid his majesty will be starv'd, before
I can run round the world for a dinner.
Besides, where's the money?

King
Ha! dost thou prattle, contumacious slave?
Guards, seize the villain! broil him, fry him, stew him;
Ourselves shall eat him out of mere revenge.

Cook
O pray your majesty, spare my life;
there's some nice cold pork in the pantry.
I'll hash it for your majesty in a minute.

King
Be thou first hash'd in hell, audacious slave.
Kills him, and turns to Bombardinian
Hash'd pork! shall Chrononhotonthologos
Be fed with swine's flesh, and at second hand?
By the Gods, General, thou dost insult us! 

Bombardinian
I little thought your Majesty
Pointing to the Girls
to other flesh than this had ought the least propensity.
Is this not a dinner for a hungry monarch?      
                                    
King
Ha! Dost though brave me to my teeth?
Take this reward!
Strikes him

Bombardinian
A blow! shall Bombardinian take a blow?
Bombardinian has receiv'd a blow!
And Chrononhotonthologos shall die.
Draws
The Girls run off

King
What means the traitor?

Bombardinian
Traitor! In thy teeth
Thus I defy thee!
They fight
Bombardinian kills the King

What have I done?
Go call a coach, and let a coach be call'd,
And let the man that calls it be the caller;
And, in his calling, let him nothing call,
But coach! coach! coach!
Bombardinian exits raving

Bombardinian returns with Doctor

Bombardinian
How fares your Majesty?

Doctor
My lord, he's dead,
My lord, he's dead.

Bombardinian
Dead! it cannot be!
Go join his body to his soul again,
Or thy soul shall quit thine own.           

Doctor
My lord, he's beyond the power of physic.
His soul has left his body and this world.
My lord, he's beyond the power of physic.
His soul has left his body and this world

Bombardinian
Then go to t'other world and fetch it back.
Bombardinian kills Doctor
And if thou triflest with me there
I'll chace thy shade beyond the verge of nature.
Call'st thou, Chrononhotonthologos?
I come! I come! your faithful Bombardinian comes!
In worlds unknown to make new wars,
And gain thee empires num'rous as the stars.
Kills himself
King arises

King
My role as King is now dispatched,
As Poet I'll return.

Bombardinian
And I as Rigdum-Funnidos.
Enter Queen, Tatlanthe, and Aldoborontiphoscophornio

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
O horrid! horrible, and horridest horror!
Our king! our General! our cook! our doctor!
All dead!
Stone dead!
Irrevocably dead!
Ohhhhh!
Enter Rigdum-Funnidos

Queen, Tatlanthe, Aldoborontiphoscophornio, Rigdum-Funnidos
Ohhhhh!

Queen
Th' Antipodean King escap'd
To leave me broken-hearted.
My husband dead!
Ye gods! you make a widow of this virgin queen,
For, to my great misfortune,
This king and that king
Have left me so.
Isn't that a wretched thing?

Tatlanthe
Why then, dear madam! make no farther pother,
Were I your majesty, I'd try another

Queen
I think 'tis best I follow thy advice.

Tatlanthe
I'll fit you with a husband in a trice:
Here's Rigdum-Funnidos, a proper man;
If any one can please a queen, he can.

Rigdum-Funnidos
Ay, that I can, your majesty.
So let's proceed to business.

Queen
Oh! but mourning takes up all my care
I'm at a loss what widow's weeds to wear.      

Rigdum-Funnidos
Talk not of mourning, madam;
One ounce of mirth is worth a pound of sorrow.
Let's bed to-night, and then we'll wed to-morrow

Queen, Tatlanthe, Rigdum-Funnidos
One ounce of mirth is worth a pound of sorrow.

Rigdum-Funnidos
One ounce of mirth is worth a pound of sorrow.

Queen, Tatlanthe, Aldoborontiphoscophornio, Rigdum-Funnidos
One ounce of mirth,
One ounce of mirth is worth a pound of sorrow.
One ounce of mirth is worth a pound of sorrow.

Rigdum-Funnidos
Let's bed tonight,
And then we'll wed tomorrow.
to Aldoborontiphoscophornio, aside
I'll make thee a great man, my little Phoscophorny.

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
I scorn your bounty, I'll be king, or nothing.
Draw, miscreant, draw.

Rigdum-Funnidos
No, Sir, I'll take the law.
Runs behind Queen
Enter Poet

Poet
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the far coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

Queen
Well, gentlemen, to make the matter easy
I'll have you both, and that, I hope will please ye.

Poet, Tatlanthe
Sweet is the night-air!        

Poet
From the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Queen
And now, Tatlanthe, thou art all my care:
Where shall I find thee such another pair?

Poet, "Tatlanthe"                       
"Tatlanthe" joins, but now 'out of character' – remaining so until the end
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand
Begin and cease.

Poet
Begin and cease, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
                                  
Queen
Pity that you, who've serv'd so long, so well,
Should die a virgin, and lead apes in hell.
"Tatlanthe" does not see or hear Queen, and does not respond
                                  
Poet
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

Queen
Choose for yourself, dear girl, our empire round;
Your portion is twelve hundred million pound.
                                  
Poet
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Take away these dead and bloody corpses.

Poet
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
                                  
Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Make preparation for our wedding-day.

Poet
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind,
                                  
Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Instead of sad solemnity, and black,
Our hearts should swim in claret.
                                
Poet, "Tatlanthe", "Queen"
"Queen" joins, but now – as previously with Tatlanthe – 'out of character'
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

Poet
But now I only hear
Its melancholy withdrawing roar.

Aldoborontiphoscophornio
Our hearts should swim in claret, and in sack.

Poet
Retreating down the vast edges
And naked shingles of the world.
"Cook" and "Doctor" arise and "drop" character,
as do "Aldoborontiphoscophornio" and "Rigdum-Funnidos"

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another, for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,;
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Omnes                      
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another, for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain.
And we are here as on a darkling plain,
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Henry Carey (1687–1743)
Matthew Arnold (1822–1888)
adapted by Andy Vores