Esmerelda.

ESMERALDA. AN ENTIRELY NEW AND ORIGINAL OPERATICO TERPSICHOREAN BURLESQUE. IN TWO ACTS. BY ALBERT SMITH. T. H. LACY, 17, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND, LONDON.

First produced at the Royal Adelphi Theatre, Monday June 3rd, 1850.

And taken altogether from the French, in accordance with the Fashion of the time.

After sitting up several nights last week, and reading through many centuries of Play-bills and volumes of Joke-books, the author finds that the period has at length arrived, when it is utterly impossible to make any fresh facetious remarks upon the intelligent artists engaged in getting up the Piece. The author therefore trusts

That Mr. PITT will forgive him when he simply states, that the Scenery has been taken by him from the best authorities of Dulaure and Callot with singularly effective tact and arrangement:

That Mr. ALFRED MELLON will not feel hurt at finding attributed to him the arrangement only, of Airs selected from the original Ballet of Esmeralda, Le Huguenots, Le Prophete, Masaniello, La Favorita, Alma, Norma, and all sorts of Organs, Jetty Treffz, Henry Phillips, The Cider Cellars, Jullien, and many other sources, being well aware of his own innate talent for composing:

That Mr. SMITHYES and Miss RAYNER will believe that he is deeply sensible of the research they have displayed in collecting the Authorities for the charming Costumes with which the deliverers of his ideas have been clothed:

That Messrs. T. IRELAND and FOSTER will acquit him of inattention in not tacking allusive jests to their calling, and playing upon any words connected with the Properties generally, which have been so intelligently furnished:

That Mr. COOPER will hold him guiltless, in like manner, of a wish to offend, in omitting the usual humourous jokes about the Machinery; and, finally,

That MADAME CELESTE will not consider him less conscious of her unwearying energy and invention in directing the Mise en Scene, when he simply states that everything has been produced under her direction.

CHARACTERS. PHOEBUS DE CHATEAUPERS (a Mediæval Guardsman, Chief of the Paris Watch, de la premiere Force, or A Division, one of the nicest young men for a small party to be found in the Household Troops) Miss WOOLGAR. CLAUDE FROLLO (a Priest, attached to Notre Dame and Esmeralda, looking and speaking plain on all occasions. A joke might have been made here in allusion to his wearing a cowl and therefore not smoking, but tobacco had not been invented) Mr. O. SMITH. PIERRE GRINGOIRE (a Dramatic Poet and Puff-preparer for Advertising Establishments, much patronized by Messrs. Rowland, Holloway, Moses, Nicoll, and other Purveyors of popular productions—equally in love and difficulties) Mr. WRIGHT. CLOPIN TROUILLEFOU (the Gipsy King, and great original of the celebrated ballad of that name which ends "Ha! ha!" Always open to conviction under the Police Act) Mr. P. BEDFORD. QUASIMODO (a dwarf-cross, between a bell-ringer and a common domestic tiger, crooked in body but upright in disposition) Mr. C. J. SMITH. DJALI (Esmeralda's Learned Goat) Mr. MITCHENSON. A TRUAND, or GIPSY Mr. SANDERS. Guards, Gipseys, Servants, Visitors, High, Low, and Middle Classes, Riff-raf, &c., &c., by a numerous, efficient, and intelligent Corps of Supernumeraries. ESMERALDA (the original "Bohemian Girl"—a rope and stilt dancer, who being a Foundling, never knew any Pas but those she dances) Madame CELESTE. FLEUR-DE-LYS (the accomplished daughter of Mdme. Gondelaurier, betrothed to Phœbus, and consequently a prey to all those misgivings which harass ladies engaged to handsome Guardsmen) Miss K. FITZWILLIAM. MADAME ALOISE DE GONDELAURIER (the Bride's Lady Mother; nothing differing in any way from Mothers-in-law-about-to-be in general) Mrs. LAWS. (The Bridesmaids Elect) DIANE Miss H. COVENEY. BERENGERE Miss TURNER. Female Truands, Bridesmaids, and charming Persons generally, by a Rustling World of Muslined Young Ladies.

The Action is supposed to pass in Old Paris in the year 1482.

ACT THE FIRST.

THE COUR DES MIRACLES; Or, "ROOKERY" of ANTIENT PARIS. THE TRUANDS AT HOME. VALSE DE VIEUX PARIS. THE TRUANDAISE, By Madame CELESTE and Mr. WRIGHT.

THE ABODE OF ESMERALDA, The Performing Goat, An Interrupted Interview.—Pierre taught the Rudiments of Street Exhibiting.

Gardens of the Hotel Gondelaurier, PREPARED FOR THE MARRIAGE FESTIVAL.

DANSE DES FLEURS, Mesdames Harrison, Sidney, Lelacheur, Penson, Worrell, Adelaide, Mc Clewee, Hunt, Mitchenson, Louise, Brown, Thompson, Robins, Celleir, and Hayman.

ARRIVAL OF THE ACROBATS. THE ANTICAGITANA! By MADAME CELESTE, An awkward Rencontre, and General Confusion. WRETCHEDNESS OF EVERYBODY!

ACT THE SECOND.

A miserable Cabaret on the Banks of the Seine. The Appointment and its Consequences. PAS DE FASCINATION! By Miss WOOLGAR, Mr. O. SMITH, and Madame CELESTE.

PLATFORM OF NOTRE DAME With extensive View of Old Paris, including the Seine, the old Louvre, the Tour de Nesle, the Pre aux Clercs, &c.

CLAUDE FROLLO THROWN OVER THE BELFRY! THE SPOUT and SPOUTER.

THE PLACE DU CHATELET, BY NIGHT, WITH PREPARATIONS FOR ESMERALDA—"danser, Ou il n'y a pas de plancher."—Victor Hugo.

THE FOOLS' FESTIVAL. Entree Phrenetique of Fools and Follies.

THE MAGIC WHISTLE!

ESMERALDA'S LUCKY BAG, AND FINE ART DISTRIBUTION OF PRIZES! A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER.

THE REAL UNPROTECTED FEMALE.

THE APOTHEOSIS OF THE ADELPHI! TABLEAU OF BY-GONE TRIUMPH.

DAZZLING DENOUMENT!!

ACT I.

SCENE I. The stage represents the interior of the Cour des Miracles, or "Rookery" of Paris, adjoining the Palais de Justice. The TRUANDS are grouped about, drinking, gambling, making small toys to sell in the street, &c. CLOPIN TROUILLEFOU on a tub in the centre with a flagon in his hand. GIRLS serving refreshments. Opening Chorus from "The Huguenots." To table! to table! drink while we are able. To table! to table! life is never stable; To table! to table! sing and shout in Babel; Drink while we are able—life and daylight's short! Gosier (Ringing a bell.) Pray silence in the court, you rabble rout. 1 Tru. Hear! 2 Tru. Order! 3 Tru. Throw him over! 4 Tru. Turn him out! Clop. Our queen, upon the Truand welfare bent, Appoints me her provisional government; But e'er she opens this our session, say What rent your industry's brought in to-day. Goz. Your grace, the frequent robberies of plate Have brought us these six forks. Hands them up. Clop. Done by the weight. Electrotyped! Oh, Elkington & Co., For such tricks where do you expect to go? But still for silver they to pass must try— 'Tis the great rule, "Do those you've been done by." To the melting-pot! What next? 1 Tru. (Handing up a watch.) My humble cotch. Clop. What papers call "Flat gentleman's gold watch." He must have been a flat to let you get it. It's rather slow—remind me I've to set it. Anything else? Puts it in his pocket. 2 Tru. My lord, this massive cup, With an inscription on it. Clop. Hand it up. (Reads.) "Presented by a few admirers"—gammon! 'Tis the old trick—"a sprat to catch a salmon." 3 Tru. Some slop goods, sir— Clop. Such goods in future shirk; Selling dirt cheap must lead to dirty work. If once this rage for cheapness all be swallowing, The trade of prigging soon won't be worth following. Now then, to sport, while our town daylight lingers, And prove your heels as nimble as your fingers. Dance of TRUANDS. Music from the Ballet. At the conclusion, noise without. PIERRE GRINGOIRE rushes in, pursued by TRUANDS, and throws himself at CLOPIN'S feet. Pier. Oh, help! fire! murder! robbery! thieves! police! There—take my life, but spare my Christmas piece. Clop. Who's this? Pier. You know my face; the print shops show it; I am the celebrated lyric poet. Gringoire the Gringoire. Sure you know the name? I may say 'tis already known to fame. Clop. It may be known to fame—it ain't known here. Pier. I am a man to all the muses dear; I can puff aught from paletôts to Havannahs; Write Christmas books in several authors' manners; Knock you off plays ridiculously cheap, Or songs for ladies full of passion deep. 'Twas I asked "Wilt thou love me then as now?" And echo answered, "Dearest"— Clop. Hold your row! You've run your head into the lion's jaw: Tremble, for I'm the gipsy king, ha, ha! Song, CLOPIN. "For I am a Gipsy King." Oh, I am a gipsy king, And where is a king like me? A forest I don't think the thing, And I never live under a tree. I'm much better off in a stable Than getting wet through in a wood; I sleep there whenever I'm able, And not in the wood if I could. For I am a gipsy king, ha, ha! For I am a gipsy king. Chorus For he is a gipsy king, ha, ha! For he is a gipsy king. Pier. I know a song of mine for a bass voice. Clop. Oh! then the song was yours, eh? I rejoice To have within my power the wretch whose hand Dared perpetrate that libel on our band. Lords of the treasury, he is confided To your sharp hands—see his effects divided. They surround and hustle PIERRE to the front of the stage. They draw papers from his pouch. Clop. Here's something heavy this right pocket stuffs. Pier. Oh no, that's nothing but a lot of puffs; Paper, not pastry—and, besides, they're stale. Clop. What's that in his hind pocket? Pier. That's my tale. It's very long and lively, for you'll find in it Pendennis, Copperfield, and Punch combined in it. Take all my works, only my freedom grant me; There are such loads of advertisers want me. I am required to cure this very day No end of cases for great Holloway. No knowing what tanned cheeks may lie at my door, If I ain't there to sing Rowland's Kalydor. There's Lord knows how many my aid inviting To tell their characters from their handwriting; For which twelve postage stamps the modest rate is: I should be glad, great sir, to do yours gratis. Clop. My character from writing! Wretched wight, I've got no character, and I can't write. His pockets are emptied. And this is all! Well, I must do my duty Towards those who disappoint us of our booty. Ho! pitch him in the reservoir hard by, And when you've drown'd him, hang him up to dry. The TRUANDS approach PIERRE. PIERRE & CHORUS. Laughing Chorus in "Der Freyschutz." Why, good people, are you raising Such a row, it's quite amazing! This once let me go away, And I'll come another day. Chorus Ha, ha! ha, ha! &c. Pier. Extensive monarch, pardon I implore! I'll not write any poetry any more. Clop. Hold, friends! I recollect a gipsy law May save this object from the hangman's claw. Draw near, fair Truandesses—this man's life Is spared if he gains one of you for wife. Pier. Married or hung! The alternative is fearful; But, on the whole, the first perhaps is most cheerful. Grant me the melancholy satisfaction Of knocking myself down in this transaction. Who bids? Now ladies—going—going to pot— Distinguished poet—very splendid lot! A going for a trifle—in his prime. Now don't all speak at once—one at a time. To be given away! Of what can you be thinking? Come—going! Ah I see a party winking— Allow me to knock down the lot to you? No! Really, ladies, this will never do. An awful sacrifice like this! What none? You, miss? (To a girl.) (Girl shakes her head.) Going! You ma'am? (To an old lady.) (Old lady shakes her head.) Going! You, duck? (To a small child.) (Child shakes her head.) Tambourine heard outside. Gone! Another squeak for life! That tambourine! Clop. (In mockery.) Ha, ha! 'tis Esmeralda! 'tis our queen. Music. ESMERALDA bounds on to the air from the ballet accompanied by her goat. PIERRE is hustled to one side. Tremendous cheers. CLOPIN respectfully leads her to the throne, one half tub cut into a chair elevated on another. The goat is seated on a lower stool and receives the homage of the TRUANDS. Esm. Bless you my people! But repress these cheers; They might bring the police about our ears. PIERRE breaks from the TRUANDS and throws himself before ESMERALDA. Pier. Protect me mighty queen. Your fierce marauders Will execute me else without your orders. Esm. Speak boldly; this poor creature we protect. Pier. "Act fifth, scene last, tableau and grand effect! Strikes an attitude. I stand the most unfortunate of wretches, Betwixt the marriage noose and Mr. Ketch's You are the last chance left; I'm just a going; Oh! pluck this "flower within your garden growing." Esm. With pity for his fate my heart is wrung, I'll marry you rather than see you hung. Clop. Throw down this stone jug. (PIERRE does so.) There, our troth is plighted, To last until the pieces are united. And now a dance. Pier. Oh yes, a dance. We'll go it. Esm. Pray keep your distance—I prefer my poet. "La Truandaise" by ESMERALDA and PIERRE. During the dance CLAUDE FROLLO appears at the back of the stage, watching ESMERALDA. Suddenly the curfew is heard. The stage darkens and the windows are lighted up. Drums heard — the march "Garde a vous." Clop. The guard is coming round: we must away! Esm. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. Exit ESMERALDA, PIERRE, and GOAT. Music. Enter ARCHER GUARD followed by PHŒBUS DE CHATEAUPERS. Some carry cross bows, others halberds. Song, PHŒBUS. Air—"Dashing White Sergeant." I should much like to know When you're going to go; 'Tis a word and a blow With such as I. I'll have no chaff nor jaw, But my will shall be law, When my sword I draw, With au-thor-i-ty! As the curfew has toll'd, he who don't want to stay, For a thrashing, will oblige me, and march away. The GUARDS force off the TRUANDS with their halberds. There is some resistance. Phœ. (Very affectedly.) Now go, or in your own low language, "mizzle:" You can't cheat me or as you'd call it "chizzle." Go, there's good scamps, or you'll rouse my displeasure. And force me to adopt some curs'd strong measure. The TRUANDS retire, the GUARD marching after them headed by PHŒBUS. As soon as the stage is clear, CLAUDE FROLLO comes from behind a pillar where he has concealed himself—he beckons off. Enter CLOPIN. All is mysterious and melodramatic in the manners of CLAUDE FROLLO. Clau. Thou knowest me? Clop. I do! Clau. And her I'm wooing? CLOPIN nods assent. List to the deed of darkness I've been brewing. Song CLAUDE. "Comic Air" My tulip, in a pleasant ditty, I'll tell you what I'm going to do: Your Esmeralda, young and pretty, You're well aware in vain I woo; She don't much like me, as a party Of desperate rogues for crime all right, Such fellows as yourself, my hearty, I've ambushed to catch her to night. Fol de roddy, &c. To bear her off in, I have here A neat turn out—a horse and drag; But, as my driving's rather queer, I hope you'll stop and tool this nag One moment, ere your friends you follow, Don't tell a creature who I am, Or 'twould be all up with Claude Frollo, Alchemist of Notre Dame. Clop. I see your drift—you want the girl trepanned? Clau. My estimable friend, give me your hand. Clop. Stop! Though a gipsy, I feel some compunction— Clau. (Gives money.) Let me remove it with this golden unction; The poor man's plaster—now, how do you find Your qualms? Clop. Well, I'm much easier in my mind, But I shall want assistance. Clau. (Mysteriously.) It is here! Ho! Quasimodo! Goblin, slave, appear! Music. He strikes a portion of the stone work—QUASIMODO appears—a deformed goblin, dressed à la Mephystophiles, and prostrates himself before CLAUDE. Clau. In Notre Dame's old belfry dark and grim He bore the bell, that is, the bell bore him; I called him up, and, gained by magic power A devilish ugly servant from that hour. (To QUASIMODO.) To bear off Esmeralda is my plan, You must assist this ragged gentleman. QUASIMODO darts to CLOPIN. (To CLOPIN.) You're nervous, sir; 'tis but the creature's play; He seldom kills folks while I'm in the way. Music. QUASIMODO pantomimes that ESMERALDA is approaching. His telegraph proclaims the girl is near! Lie down, my heart—and you, sir, lie down here. CLAUDE pulls CLOPIN and QUAS. behind a wing. Music. Enter ESMERALDA. Esm. Oh! Hesperus, thou bringest all good things Home to the weary, as the poet sings. It really wants some superhuman power To dance on stilts fifteen times in the hour. I seek my humble chamber—there to sup, And see my new-made hubby safe locked up. Clau. I say, my love, come here. Esm. Pray stand aside. Old man, you're tipsy! Clau. Give me a kiss, you gipsy. Esm. Think what a foolish act you are committing, When at your time of life you should be sitting In a Welsh wig over your water gruel. Clau. Your passion to my passion adds fresh fuel. Rushes towards her, followed by QUASIMODO and CLOPIN. Esm. Unhand me! Clau. (Seizing her.) Blushes, girl, your charms increase. Esm. Call yourselves gentlemen! Police, police! Clau. The Guard! I'm off. As the SOLDIERS appear, headed by PHŒBUS DE CHATEAUPERS, FROLLO runs off. The soldiers seize QUASIMODO. ESMERALDA throws herself at the feet of PHŒBUS. Esm. A thousand, thousand thanks. Phœ. (Examines her through his eye-glass.) A charming girl, though of the lower ranks. I must investigate this outrage flagrant On an extremely piquante female vagrant. Who are we—eh? What frightened us just now? How are we mixed up with this horrid row? Esm. Oh! I'm almost too fluttered to explain. 'Twas an old gentleman who strove in vain To make himself agreeable, but couldn't. He tried to snatch a kiss—I vowed he shouldn't; Fiercer and fiercer still his passion grew; He was so very plain, I was plain too; And scolded him—he seized me when good luck Brought you—so kind, brave, generous—such a duck! Phœ. Naive but nice. I feel inclined to doubt Whether your mother knows that you are out. ESMERALDA covers her face. You weep? Esm. 'Tis a wise child that knows its mother Or father—I knew neither one nor t'other. Phœ. Alone in this hard world, flung like a weed in't, You've neither relative nor antecedent. How ungrammatical! Then, may I ask it, Are you a foundling case of babe and basket? Esm. A parent's care in vain my childhood bawled for; I fancy I was left, but never called for. My earliest recollections, sir, are humbling, Of always standing on my head or tumbling, Both on and off the rope; my nursery songs, The music of trombones, drums, fifes and gongs; The earliest sounds my infant ears drank in, "Walk up—walk up—a-going to begin." Through Paris now my tambourine I whirl, And the folks call me the Bohemian Girl. Now tell your name. Phœ. Phœbus—from one of those Infernal languages that no one knows: Hebrew, or Dutch, or Greek; but my godfather Was one Apollo, an archer, handsome rather. I am an archer too; like his, my trade is To shoot the gentlemen and charm the ladies. Esm. Are you that archer who our first books say Shot at a frog—whose name begins with A? Yet no—how spell you Phœbus? Phœ. There's no telling: One really is so little used to spelling. I spell it with an F; some prefer P. Esm. I like it better. P, H, O, E, Phœ; B, U, S, Phœbus. In my heart I'll set it. P, H, O, E, bus—there! I shan't forget it. And now farewell! All danger's at an end. (Calls to her GOAT.) Come Djali! GOAT comes upon his hind legs. Phœ. (Looks at him.) Ah! who is our hairy friend? Esm. (Fondling the Goat.) My Djali! whilst I've him, I'll never marry. Oh, he can beg, frisk, fondle, fetch and carry, As well as any spouse the court adorns. A perfect husband— Phœ. Even to his horns. Esm. Farewell! (Sees scarf.) What a sweet scarf! Phœ. (Ties it round her waist.) Ah! pray permit me. Esm. (Delighted.) How beautiful! No—does it really fit me? Phœ. Divine! Perhaps a little tighter braced— Proceeds to put his arm round her waist. Esm. Hands off! no right of common on my waist. A GUARD comes forward. Guar. The prisoner, captain, 's getting quite obstrolopous; If we don't wallop him, I think he'll wallop us. QUASIMODO is dragged forward L. C. He strikes an attitude and shows his demoniac physiognomy. Phœ. I have seen ugly men, but I must say, You're something quite out of the common way; A thought more hideous, and not quite so tall, You'd make a fortune at the Egyptian Hall. I never saw a plainer case of sin. Gentlemen archers! ready! present! pitch in! Music. QUASIMODO is beaten; he makes signs of thirst. Esm. Here, wretched man, I have my gourd here handy: 'Tis cold without. (QUASIMODO expresses delight.) Cold water, without brandy. QUASIMODO expresses disgust, but drinks; then shakes his head. Alas! 'tis only common pump, I know; Oh! could I add "de vie" to this her "Eau." QUASIMODO is led off. ESMERALDA offers to return the scarf. Your scarf. Phœ. No; you distress me—most unpleasant. Esm. You give it me? Oh, what a charming present! Phœ. I must be paid. Esm. Alas! I have no money. Phœ. I'll take the price out of your lips of honey. Esm. Nay, that's light coin and not a legal tender. Phœ. Excuse me, but the Guard never surrender. Struggle; she breaks from him and draws a dagger. Esm. Forbear! (Strikes attitude.) Or, if your wicked point you strain, My point shall settle you. Phœ. The knife again! Drop that offensive weapon; I was wrong. I'll let you have the scarf, child, with a song. Song, PHŒBUS. Neapolitan Air—"Io te voglio." Let not my love perplex you, I never meant to vex you; Thus the vain archer decks you, [Puts on scarf. Gallant in love as war. (Aside.) I'm winning in a canter— She's mine, despite all law. (To her.) Esmeralda, ma charmante, Chateaupers t'attend ce soir. They take leave, and depart to the refrain finale of the second act of "Masaniello," ESMERALDA R., PHŒBUS L.

SCENE II. The Interior of ESMERALDA's abode—a picturesque vaulted chamber; a fire burns on the hearth. Two doors in flat with wickets in them. Music. Enter ESMERALDA, pensively, followed by GOAT. Esm. No, its no use; fight with it all I can, I find I can't forget that nice young man. She takes the scarf and kisses it. My heart can give no answer to this rebus: Oh Phœbus, Phœbus, wherefore art thou Phœbus? Why is your rank so high, and mine so mean? What's in a name? That which we call camphine By any other name the same would smell. She takes up letters lying on a form. My goat at the loved word shall take a spell. Here, Djali! Phœbus. (GOAT brings F.) No. Is the wretch deaf? What do you mean, sir, by still bringing F? Music. GOAT expresses doubt, and brings a book which he looks at and expresses himself satisfied. Now O, E, there now, Djali, spell me "buss." (GOAT brings letters; she reads) O, M, N, I,—Why that spells omnibus No; "buss" for Phœbus—what's this great long row? GOAT places letters; she reads. "Mind it aint buss for Esmeralda." Go You wicked thing, how dare you give advice? I'll put you in the cellar in a trice. She drives him off, and remains contemplating the name. Whilst she is thus engaged GRINGOIRE enters, R. Pier. Ah! there she is, lost in a reverie; Forgetting all beside, to think of me. I'll break her visions with a chaste salute! He puts his arm round her waist, and goes to kiss her; she starts up and draws her dagger. Esm. Stand off! Pier. 'Tis I, thy spouse. Esm. My spouse! you brute! Pier. You're bound to love and honour and obey me; We're one, and 'twill be suicide to slay me. Esm. Away, slight man! I took you to the altar, But that was but to take you from the halter. All day you wear that halter, if you choose, And write your poems in the Daily Noose. You may be useful, though not ornamental. Pier. I'll try what I can do to help our rental, Dress very clean on evenings raw and damp And stand with lucifers beneath a lamp. Or hold—sit down, (he sits) look wretched; very hard, Turn up my eyes and hang out this placard. Hangs a board round his neck labelled "I'm starving," and looks miserable. Will that do? Esm. Look more famished, if you can, sir; Pier. I feel too cheerful; it will never answer. Esm. With me into the streets then you must come, Play the Pandean pipes and beat the drum. Pier. I never played the pipes! nor never tried A tune—save that of which the old cow died. It was a plaintive air. Esm. You'll learn them soon, Suppose now we rehearse our dance and tune; Put the Pandeans down your waistcoat—so, There, that is it—now give a good hard blow, He plays a tune awkwardly, she gets up and dances and makes him join her until he is out of breath. Pier. Pray stop one moment, or you'll be my death, I really can't go on for want of breath; Chaffed, hustled, plundered, and then nearly hung, Show me my room, my nerves are quite unstrung; Once there bright thoughts of thee shall flit around me, Oft in the stilly night ere slumber's bound me. Air, "Oft in the stilly night"—ESMERALDA shows PIERRE to his chamber, R. D. in F., and locking the door on him, returns. Esm. Safe bind safe find, is still the rule with me, And so lest he should bolt, I'll turn the key. Once more alone, a solitary bride. That archer's made a hit on my left side. Pressing her hand to her heart. Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere, Phœbus I love, and Gringoire can't lodge here. A noise, some flat to have his fortune told. A knocking. Who's there? Come in. Enter CLAUDE FROLLO, R. Clau. Do I again behold My beauteous charmer—suffer me to span That lovely waist. (approaches her.) Esm. Hence, horrible old man! At your age to indulge in such a thought, You ought to be ashamed, sir, that you ought. Clau. You see I'm frank. Esm. Frank, sir, I call you frantic. Clau. I am old; but exceedingly romantic. Whilst gazing on thee, beauteous as thou art, Love warms the cockles of this aged heart. Comes towards her. Esm. (Starting back.) I have a husband, though he be a quiz. Clau. He is neither here nor there. Pier. (Puts his head out at the wicket.) Oh, but he is! Elderly gentleman, you are de trop. Esm. Respect him. Pier. Yes, respect me do and go; Unless you'd brave the peril of an action. Clau. An action—pshaw! I offer satisfaction. I call you out. Pier. Oh, yes—that's all a hum; You're well aware I'm locked up and can't come. Clau. The door locked? (Thinks.) Ha! Rushes up to door. Esm. (Rushes into chamber, L. D. in F.) Now is my time. Clau. (Tries door.) All right. Now for my victim! Goes to ESMERALDA. Esm. (From the other wicket.) Thank you, sir, not quite. Music. The symphony of a trio is played. At its conclusion nobody begins. CLAUDE goes towards PIERRE, who shuts the wicket in his face: same business with ESMERALDA. He then advances to the lamps, as if to sing: recollects he can't; bows and exits R. 1 E.

SCENE III. The Gardens of the Hotel Gondelaurier, pre-prepared for the wedding fête, adorned with statues, vases, &c.; a low parapet at the back, beyond which is the river. In the distance a view of the Tower de Nesle, the old Louvre, the Pont Neuf, Notre Dame, &c. The trees are adorned with garlands. Enter FLEUR DE LYS, attended by her two bridesmaids, DIANE and BERANGERE, R. U. E. Fleur. My wedding eve! How cheerful, glad, and gay Seems every one and everything to-day! How light time flies when Cupids help to wing it! But I can't speak my joy, and so I'll sing it. Song, FLEUR DE LYS. "Dandy Jim." Oh, what a happy lot is mine! Dress'd out in lace and satin fine; Do what I please go where I can, And wedding such a nice young man! Yet when I once become his wife, I'll lead my Phœbus such a life, Although he's now as spruce and fine As Dandy Jim from Caroline. Ber. Still singing, coz'? I wonder how you can On such a day. Dian. And wedding such a man. Ber. All Paris at his feet to pick and choose; I wouldn't sing till he was in the noose. Dian. Accept our wreaths. Ber. No little busy bee E'er worked so hard amongst the flowers as we; We've toiled I don't know how many hours. Fleur. (Admiring wreaths.) How charming! Yes, and all appropriate flowers: White roses for young folks about to marry; Blue bells, fit wreaths for ladies literary; Stocks for rich misses, bless'd with three per cents., To mend, as wives should do, their husband's rents; For those who don't dance, let these wall-flowers be; And for old maids these everlastings see. Ber. I ne'er could guess the cause, though oft I've tried, Why orange blossom's worn by every bride. Fleur. I'll tell you, love: the orange bears, you see, Flowers, bud, and fruit, at once on the same tree. Wooing's the bud; the honeymoon the flower; Wedlock the fruit, which may be sweet or sour; The skin the outward arts, which often hide Little but gall and bitterness inside; Whilst to the juice, which clogs on love too placid, Tiffs matrimonial give a pleasant acid. Ber. Well! I would have no acid in my caudle. Fleur. Dear! where can Phœbus be? This morn to dawdle! When he does come, how I shall sulk and pout! Ber. The very way again to drive him out. Fleur. That step amongst a thousand I should know it. Oh, I'm so happy!—but I mustn't shew it. She sulks. Enter PHŒBUS, slowly, L. U. E. Fleur. My Phœbus! Phœ. Ha! my Esmeralda. Fleur. Eh! Your what? Dian. Your who? Ber. Your which? Fleur. What does he say? Phœ. Confound it! I was thinking of the other. Fleur. Who? Phœ. (Confused.) Who? Eh! Why! Ah, sweetest, how's your mother— The Lady Aloise? Fleur. Oh, hard at work, Making— Phœ. Babe in a basket oh! the Turk! Fleur. No, my trousseau. Why, what means all you've said? Phœ. Babes? baskets? Still she's running in my head. Fleur. Who's running in your head? Phœ. Eh! Ah! A cold I caught last night, no doubt, while we patrolled. Fleur. Poor fellow! how I hope you've no sore throat! Pray wrap up warmer next time. Phœ. How's your goat? Fleur. My what? My goat? Phœ. Why, really, one forgets Women have such extraordinary pets. Dian. You mean her bird. Ber. Her greyhound. Fleur. Sure he's mad! Phœ. Your joke about the horns was not so bad: "A perfect husband, even to his horns." Dian. (Offended.) Sir! Ber. (Offended.) Sir! Fleur. (Weeps.) Alas! his Fleur de Lys he scorns. Phœ. Oh, come, don't cry. Now here's a situation! This comes of having an imagination. Excuse me, pray—it's time that you should know it: The fact is, my dear creatures, I've turned poet. Though one mayn't smoke on guard, a man may write; Being dull, I took to poetry last night. When I talk of black eyes and waving curls, Of goats, and babies, and Bohemian Girls, They're what-d'ye-call-ems—which we poets shape. (Aside.) I think I'm deuced well out of the scrape. Fleur. A poet! With delight I shall go frantic. You love me still? Phœ. I do. Embraces her. Fleur. Oh! how romantic! Duet, PHŒBUS & FLEUR DE LYS. Last Act of "La Favorita." Fleur. Come to my arms once again, I was sorry to teaze you; And now your affection to gain, I'll live but to please you. You may flirt with whoever you see, But my love—but my love ne'er shall falter. Come to your own Fleur de Lys, Whom you'll lead to the altar. Phœ. Yes! in your arms once again, You were sorry to teaze me; And now my affection to gain, You shall live but to please me. I will flirt with whomsoever I see, As your love ne'er shall falter; Yes, 'tis my own Fleur de Lys I will lead to the altar. Ber. Here come your friends, big with congratulations On this most interesting of occasions. Fleur. Ma, too! Phœ. Our lady mother, to my eyes, Looks like the grandmother of all the Guys. Music "Haste to the Wedding." ALOISE GONDELAURIER enters with FRIENDS, FLOWER-GIRLS, SERVANTS, &c. - a gay wedding cortege, R. U. E. Aloi. How's this? In tete-à-tete, as I'm a mother! Young couples now see too much of each other. Until at church we got out of the carriage, I ne'er saw your papa before our marriage. Phœ. (Aside.) With wives like Madame Gondelaurier A slight acquaintance may go a great way. Aloi. But our guests can't be left here at a dead lock How to amuse them, till you're joined in wedlock. Fleur. Let's promenade the grounds. Phœ. The Guard don't walk. Ber. Shall we tell stories, then? Phœ. The Guard don't talk. Aloi. Were the priest here, no longer you should tarry. Phœ. The Guard don't—yes, ecod! the Guard does marry. Fleur. (Looking off.) Oh! here's a dancing troop: such ugly creatures. Phœ. Tumblers in dirty tights and ditto features. Fleur. Do have them in, ma! they'd serve to amuse us. Dian. Do, madam! Ber. Oh, pray do! You can't refuse us. Aloi. We'll call them in, though such riff-raff I hate. What ho! without! Let John lock up the plate. They sit on raised seats, L. 2 E. Air from "Esmeralda" Enter ESMERALDA, PIERRE, TRUANDS, and the GOAT. PIERRE is carrying a drum, and has a shabby old coat on over his dress; on his head is an arrangement of bells. The TRUANDS carry a chair, a bit of carpet, a basin, sticks, brass balls, &c. Two small children in tights. Pier. Now be in time! Stand clear, that each one sees The bounding brothers of the Pyrenees! Music. He goes round with the balls and string, and clears a ring. Encourage the performance: the first thing Shall be the famous Pas de Highland Fling. Esm. Foreign hops being free—though grave folks swore That foreign hops were free enough before— I'll plagiarise from fair Carlotta Grisi, And make my hops, you'll see, both free and easy. Pier. In fact, Madame Gringoire, it is well known, Is free to do what she likes with her own. The carpet is arranged. Dance by ESMERALDA; at the conclusion, Fleur. Equal to Taglioni! Esm. You distress me. Pier. The young person's modest. Fleur. Charming. Esm. You oppress me. Mine are wild capers quite without pretence; I never knew a pas in any sense; My ballet-masters were the waving flowers, The leaves that pirouette from Autumn's bowers, The dancing waters and the curtseying trees: If I can dance I learnt to dance from these. Pier. Next the extraordinary goat of learning Will shew his more than animal discerning. Now, Djali, seek the fairest lady present. GOAT runs round and stops at MADAME GON. Aloi. The rest was low; but this is really pleasant. Pier. Now show what gent. here best loves what fair maid. DJALI runs to PHŒBUS and back to ESMERALDA. The first mistake the animal e'er made! You mean this lady? (To FLEUR DE LYS, DJALI shakes his head.) Go to her this minute! DJALI shakes his head again. (Aside.) The brute will certainly put his foot in it. Fleur. A nasty ugly animal, I hate him! Pier. Just let me get him home, I'll educate him. The GOAT butts at him. Pier. The young person can tell fortunes to perfection— Esm. Tell ladies their young men's age, name, complexion. (To FLEUR DE LYS.) You wed to-day. Fleur. How could you know at all? Esm. The stars. (Aside.) I saw the bride-cake in the hall. You'll be a happy wife. Fleur. Oh! what delight. Esm. Or if you ain't, dare say 'twill serve you right. Fleur. As you've set forth my coming life so clear, You must foretell my love's,—Phœbus! come here. She goes to table where PHŒBUS has been playing cards, and brings him forward. Phœ. I'd rather not. Fleur. Oh! but my love, you must. Esm. (Recognising him.) Oh! Phœ. Ah! (To ESMERALDA.) My beautiful! Esm. (To PHŒBUS.) My brave! Pier. Here'll be a dust. Fleur. Tell me the worst. Phœ. Perplexing complication. Pier. A fine melodramatic situation: In my next piece this scene will be a feature. Fleur. (To ESMERALDA.) You know that gentleman? Aloi. (To PHŒBUS.) You know that creature? Phœ. Eh? Ah! Esm. Know him? His image fills my soul— My handsome hero of the night patrol. Fleur. That scarf! my present for parade or park, Marked with my hair! Esm. (Examining it.) Yes—Fleur de Lys—her mark. Phœ. Really here's some mistake. Of this Bohemian I've no remembrance—or at least a dreamy one. (Aside to ESMERALDA.) I perfectly adore you, but—not now— Meet me to-night. (Aloud.) Now go! don't make a row. (Aside.) I love you— Esm. Fact? Phœ. 'Pon honour. Esm. Joy ecstatic! Fleur. Hence, minx—retire! Pier. Really it's most dramatic. Aloi. (Sharply to PIERRE.) And you, you ugly little man! Pier. Oh! blow it, That's not the way to talk, marm, to a poet. Phœ. (Rushing to FLEUR DE LYS.) Don't cry, my own. (To ESMERALDA.) My sweet, don't make a scene. Pier. Encourage the performance; don't be mean. For all our feats we've not received a rap. Aloi. You shall, then, soon. Drive hence the saucy chap. SERVANTS rush in. And this bold thing who dares herself to thrust 'Twixt my child and her love. SERVANTS approach to drive ESM. and PIER. out. Pier. You touch her, just! Behold! Gringoire defies your menial throng. I ain't big, but I'm wonderfully strong. Fleur. Hence! Esm. On compulsion? Ha! that shall be seen. What ho! without! Truands, defend your queen! TRUANDS rush in. The two lines of TRUANDS and RETAINERS of the House of Gondelaurier alternately advance and recede to and from each other to the chorus from Norma, "Guerra, guerra." Kill them, kill them! slaughter, slaughter! Charge them, charge like bricks and mortar! Rout them, flout them! stick them, lick them! Into the middle of next week kick them! Confusion and grand Tableau. END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I. An apartment in a low cabaret: a gloomy vaulted chamber, with a stone-shafted window, practicable, and opening on to the river. Doors R. and L., and door in F., supposed to open into another apartment. A heavy antique clock case, practicable, L. C. No furniture in the room except one old chair. Enter CLOPIN (R.) mysteriously to the symphony, and sings. Song, CLOPIN. "The Wolf." At the hour of half-past three, No policeman can you see; Every crusher, quite shut up, Down some area dives to sup. When the bell of great St. Paul's From the Cider Cellar calls, Hats we bonnet—all vain resistance; Constables must keep their distance. Silence! or it will be With your wizen all U-P. Coats, studs, and buttons soon fly asunder; Then we rifle, rob, and plunder! He beckons on CLAUDE FROLLO and one or two of the TRUANDS, R. Clau. This is the place, then, for their last flirtation; A gloomy fixture for an assignation; And still the more I gaze, the more it grows A room of horrors, like Madame Tussaud's. (To CLOPIN.) These are all gentlemen, who'll swear, you say, Through thick and thin, for half-a-crown a day? Clop. E'en an Old Bailey cross-examination Won't shake 'em. Clau. They're a credit to their station. (To TRUANDS.) My conscientious friends, pray take your places, The TRUANDS and CLOPIN retire into closet, R. C. F. And till I call don't show your ugly faces. From this clock case upon their loves I'll look; Woe to the man whose goose I've got to cook. Noise without. Music. He retires into clock case. Enter PHŒBUS, guiding in ESMERALDA, R. Phœ. Take care, or those delicious shins you'll bark. Esm. I need no light when led by such a spark. Phœ. (Looking at room.) Neatly but plainly furnished. I should say There's been an execution here to-day. Clau. (Looks out.) There will be one before you go away. Esm. What's that? The clock gave warning. Phœ. Oh! dear no; Or if it did give warning, it don't go. Time spent in wooing is so short and sweet, All well-bred clocks do stop when lovers meet. Brings down chair. The one chair— Phœ. Leave you standing whilst I sat! My manners are not quite so bad as that. Esm. Affecting meekness; yet the seat we'll share, And, though unusual, two shall take the chair. They sit down together. Symphony "In this Old Chair." Song, PHŒBUS. "Sich a gittin' up Stairs." On this one chair I'd rather be Than on a throne, if but with thee; For such poor homes true love ne'er cares, Nor ev'n such a gittin' up stairs. Sich a sittin' on a chair to the playing of the fiddle, Sich a sittin' on a chair I never did see. Clau. (Looking out.) I feel this clock and I are both alike: We're each of us wound up and going to strike. Phœ. (Patting ESMERALDA.) Then our hot little head's no longer jealous? Esm. You know we must believe whate'er you tell us. You swear that you renounce your Fleur de Lys? Phœ. And all existing petticoats for thee. Esm. Then, now, my rival's fairly on the shelf, Do tell me all about your gallant self. Phœ. I am a soldier. Esm. Oh! the horrid trade. All guns and drums, and pipeclay and parade. How you would cut a throat I can't divine. Phœ. We don't cut throats—we leave that to the Line. I'm in the Guards: you can conceive, my beauty, The murd'rous nature of our marching duty. From the Tower to the Bank, e'en in a shower; And then back from the Bank unto the Tower. Sometimes to Windsor for six months we go; Sometimes to Winchester, which is so slow. Compelled each night to face no end of balls; Besieged, if you have tin, by some shrewd mother; Blown up by ditto, if a younger brother; In rooms to which the Punjaub's cool and nice, And where the chaperons eat all the ice. Esm. How do you e'er survive to tell the tale? Phœ. Oh! love of glory. Esm. (Aside.) And perhaps pale ale. Phœ. For all my hardships past I ask but this— Esm. (Shrinking.) Ha! What? Phœ. The merest bagatelle—a kiss. As he is about to kiss her, CLAUDE FROLLO makes the cuckoo on the clock cry "Cuckoo." Esm. (Starting.) What's that? It gave me such a shock. Phœ. It's that intrusive bird upon the clock. But come—the kiss? Esm. I'll scream out! Phœ. Where's the harm? I know you will. PHŒBUS is about to kiss her; CLAUDE sets off the alarum of the clock. Confound that cursed alarm! Esm. (Rising.) Hence, tempter! Phœ. Nay; my vows are true, I swear. Holds her; she plucks a small plume from his cap and puffs it away. Esm. Light as the plume which thus I puff in air. To jockey woman is no feat so great, For Cupid always rides a feather weight. Phœ. Thine is my heart, as says the German ballad; So now for the champagne and lobster salad. Esm. A cold spread. Phœ. You should say a cold collation, Prepared for thee, object of adoration. Say that you love me. Esm. Oh! deceit is vain; I love you, (takes his arm) and I doat on red champagne. They exeunt D. in F. CLAUDE rushes from clock. Clau. 'Tis well that things have to a crisis come, I've played the devil with the pendulum. Now for the deed: witnesses, are you ready? You saw her do it, mind. Truands. (From closet.) We did, sir. Clau. Steady. A PAS DE TROIS of action is introduced here between CLAUDE FROLLO, ESMERALDA, and PHŒBUS, as follows:— Music. PHŒBUS and ESMERALDA return with the tray on a table. Pantomime: she pours out wine for him as a bacchante, &c.; CLAUDE at the back, helping himself to the glass of wine and food placed by ESMERALDA for PHŒBUS. Pas de Fascination. It ends in CLAUDE stabbing PHŒBUS behind his back. ESMERALDA shrieks; the TRUANDS lift PHŒBUS through the window and let him drop. Clau. I've done the deed. Did you not hear a noise? Remember what you've got to swear, my boys. A sorry sight this upon fist and clothes; I'd not for worlds have been my rival's nose. Exit TRUANDS, R. Now to escape. (Opens window.) The river runs below; But I've my safety belt on—D. I. O. Music. He jumps from the window; the GUARD enters, led on by CLOPIN and three TRUANDS; as they arrive, ESMERALDA rushes from D. in F. Clop. Behold the murderess! Esm. Oh! alack, alack! They've flung my love out of a three-pair back. Clop. We charge thee with the deed, strive not to shun it. Esm. No, some one else has been and gone and done it. (Falls on her knees.) I am not guilty! Clop. Gammon: you shall rue it. Tru. I saw her do it. Clop. There! he saw you do it. Esm. (Rising with dignity.) Lead on to death; but know, despite your hurry, Virtue shall triumph here as at the Surrey! Slow march. She is led off by GUARDS. When off, the GOAT comes in and expresses concern; he takes a roll and unfolds it, shows it to the audience. On it is written "The Sessions are supposed to take place between this scene and the next." Business and exit. Scene closes.

SCENE II. The Platform of Notre Dame, flanked by two towers, with the view of old Paris below. A balustrade stretches across the stage. Enter PIERRE GRINGOIRE. Pier. Yes, this will do; from this commanding station I can survey each horrid preparation. Murder the gent. who asked her out to sup— My wife! the playful thing that locked me up— All in twelve hours! So fond—so fair—so young— Caught, tried, found guilty, sentenced to be hung! No matter; when her tale I come to tell 'Twill go in penny numbers very well. Enter CLAUDE FROLLO with QUASIMODO; CLAUDE carries an umbrella. Clau. Why, what is this intrusive noisy fellow? Who gave you leave up here to shout and bellow? Go down at once; you'd better walk off quiet, or— Pier. (Aside.) Of the exhibition this is the proprietor. Sir, I have paid my money at the door— Twopence at first, and then a good deal more: In fact, below, the vergers sing but one key, That's "twopence more," and then "up goes the donkey." In fact, with libraries, and vaults, and cells, And whispering galleries, and clocks, and bells, I have not got a sou left in my purse; St. Paul's Cathedral could not be much worse. Clau. Will you go down? Pier. If you'll repay me double. Clau. Off, or— Signals to QUASIMODO to carry him down; QUASIMODO approaches; PIERRE shrinks from him. Pier. (Frightened.) I'll go; don't give yourself the trouble. Comic exit, PIERRE pursued down trap by Quas. Clau. Ah! now he's gone, from this calm elevation I can indulge in pleasing meditation. I brought my gingham, as like rain 'twas getting; My appetite for vengeance don't want whetting. Goes towards parapet. I scarce dare look, and yet the worst I'd know. How dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes as low! Half-way between this ground and balustrade Hangs one that cleaneth windows—dreadful trade! The town's a Lilliput—the square becomes A gratis exhibition of Tom Thumbs. Foot-long placards and puffs shrink to dimensions More like their merits—less like their pretensions. If I fell down, I wonder where should I go? The very notion gives me the vertigo. Ha! there's the scaffold—there's the fatal string On which proud Esmeralda soon shall swing. QUASIMODO, whilst this is going on, expresses his love and pity for ESMERALDA and his hate of CLAUDE. A bell heard tolling in the distance. The bell—ha! the procession soon must start. I've made her one last offer of my heart: If she accept, she lives—and lives in clover; If she refuse—'tis done: I throw her over. Hurry. QUASIMODO suddenly seizes CLAUDE and pitches him headlong over the parapet; a struggle, he clutches, but is forced down. QUASIMODO looks after him, and executes a caper of exultation. The scene closes.

SCENE III. A gothic interior in the belfry of Notre Dame; the bells being shewn hanging, indistinctly. In the centre a large gothic window, closed by a rude black curtain. Enter PHŒBUS DE CHATEAUPERS, R., his arm bound round. Phœ. In vain I've searched the building high and low, To find the priest who struck the treacherous blow, For which my fair Bohemian is to die, And call him to some sense of honesty. Why did I live to drain this bitter cup? Why did officious dragsmen fish me up? Why was I ever born a noble swell? Echo but answers faintly, I can't tell. If for the sake of my own satisfaction, I openly appear in this transaction. The papers will perpetuate the stain, And give the case headed—"The Guards again." Would that the girl's position now were mine, And I, with her, exchanged into the line. Enter FLEUR DE LYS, R. H. Fleur. So I have found you then! Is this the way You pass, what should have been our wedding day? Poking about these turrets old and dark, Instead of riding with me in the park; To show yourself before the world's quick eyes, And prove the world had only utter'd lies What are you doing here? (Angrily.) Phœ. My peerless beauty, I'm here on guard, and doing, love, my duty. Fleur. On guard indeed, would you had been so when That low-born person lured you to her den. For shame, for shame, had you but only been Gambling in Bury Street, on table green, Or dancing at some half-crown full-dress ball, Or Argyll Rooms, I could have pardon'd all; But thus to treat me, Phœbus, was a shame— Phœ. Did you know all, I'm not so much to blame. FLEUR, Song—"Wapping Old Stairs." Your Fleur de Lys never expected, she swears, That her heart would receive such a wapping up stairs, When you swore that you still would continue the same, And I gave you that pretty scarf marked with my name: And I gave you, &c. When I sat for six hours to watch the review, Did I ever make eyes, dear, except 'twas to you? Then be constant and kind—the Bohemian forsake, Still your skye-terrier I'll wash and your purses I'll make: Still your skye-terrier, &c. Though you promised last Sunday on white-bait to dine With dancers at Greenwich, and took too much wine, In silence I stood your unkindness to bear, And only upbraided you, love, with a tear: And only upbraided, &c. Why should still Esmeralda than me be more prized? Time was when my dancing you never despised; Then be constant and kind, nor your own one forsake, Your trow-terriers I'll wash, and your purses I'll make: Your skye-terriers, &c. Fleur. Was it to give this worst of brazen skippers I worked you, in floss silk, that pair of slippers? Was it to show one day we should be twain, You hung the sixpence on my chatelaine, And took my horse-shoe for your own watch chain? Was it for this I never danced at all Until you came, at the last Windsor ball? That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this: You have behaved, as lover, most amiss, Because you knew this minx to slight me off. Phœ. You wronged yourself, at such a case to scoff, Fleur. In such a case as this 'tis aught but sport To be the pity of the Town and Court. Phœ. I'll tell you, Fleur de Lys, that you yourself Are much condemned for a coquettish elf, To sell and jilt our officers, and waltz With titled stragglers. Fleur. Charge me with those faults! You know that you are Phœbus that speak this, Or, by the gods, ne'er hope another kiss. Phœ. No matter; when from here I march, remember You lose us for six months till next November. Think you I will be scolded without reason Who was the Almack's Lion all last season? I'd sooner be cad, and tout a 'bus, Than such a muff! Fleur. Don't aggravate me thus, Monster. Phœ. Go to; you are not Fleur de Lys. Fleur. I am. Phœ. I say you're not—you can't do me. Fleur. (Cries.) Ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this? Phœ. I've been too brutal—pshaw! give me a kiss. Fleur. And my heart too. Phœ. (Sighs.) Ah! Fleur de Lys. Fleur. (Sharply.) What now? Phœ. Nothing—don't let us have another row. (Aside.) I'm standing upon corns. I wish she'd go. Fleur. Mamma is waiting down at mass below; I saw you pass and crept up on the sly. Is all made up? Phœ. Yes, quite. Kisses her. Fleur. Then, love, good-bye. Duett, PHŒBUS and FLEUR DE LYS. "Fanny Grey." Fleur. I've got a little bird that tells me how at every rout You're always dancing more than once with some young belle just out; And in the park, upon the rails, you're lounging every day, And in each brougham window pop your head and some thing say. Phœbus. 'Tis true, my love, I love the Park, a latch-key I adore; I like to waltz fast all night long, and go to bed at four; I like cigars, I like the stalls, I like a ballet ball; But, dearest, you should recollect I like you best of all. Fleur. Then, Phœbus, let me henceforth have no reason to complain. Phœbus. I promise, love, to flirt no more (aside) until I do again. Fleur. You'll look in after tea to-night? Phœbus. Yes, after tea, my own. Fleur. Good-bye! Phœbus. Good-bye. Huzza! she's off, and I'm once more alone! At the end FLEUR DE LYS exits L. Phœ. Released at last! I thought she'd never go. And now to seek Claude Frollo. Clau. (Outside.) Help! hollo! PHŒBUS opens C. window; the background of view as in last scene, but CLAUDE FROLLO is seen suspended by his clothes to a projecting spout; his umbrella still in his hand. Phœ. What do I see? the priest hooked in a spout! Pray, sir, ain't that an odd place to hang out? May I presume to ask what brought you there? Clau. These clothes can't last long; there's a tear! Phœ. You've bought those rotten garments, I'm afraid, From advertising tailors, ready made. Clau. I did—I did—but stop this aggravation, And help me from my fearful situation. Forget the past! save me!—I know you're kind. Phœ. Save you? no, if I do, I'm—never mind. Look down below: the troops have made a clearance For my poor Esmeralda's last appearance. She owes all this to you. (He falls lower.) Your rent increases; I'll give directions to pick up the pieces. Exit PHŒBUS, L. Clau. He's gone! Vain are my struggles and my calls; Why did I trust a pair of Moses' smalls? Another crack. Oh dear! they're going; I shall tumble through The biggest skylight of the Hotel Dieu. Where are the fire escapes? Alack-a-day!. Like the police, they're never in the way. Another tear!—oh! this is dreadful rather; Here'd be a sight for any anxious father. Betwixt me and another world, I fear There's but an inch of single kerseymere. A thought—an inspiration—yes, 'twill do it! This parapluie shall be my parachute. Opens his umbrella and takes hold of the handle with both hands. His garments give way slowly. Holloa! look out there! I'm about to go; I shall be down upon you—hi! below! He descends as the curtain closes in the scene. QUASIMODO rushes in and expresses rage; then exits.

SCENE IV. The Place du Chatelet by moonlight, with entrance to the Prison. A crowd assembled to view the execution of ESMERALDA. The GUARDS are keeping order. The moon rising gradually behind Notre Dame. Music. Guard. Keep back! One would suppose, by this uproar, You'd never seen a woman hung before. Clop. When one takes a day's pleasure, it's too hard From all the fun by your pikes to be barred. Guar. (Charging with his halbert.) Stand back, or else I'll stick you: so take warning. Clop. I've been stuck here since four o'clock this morning. Somebody's picked my pocket: that's a sample What these sights do for popular example. Enter PIERRE GRINGOIRE, carrying a bench and a bundle of papers. Pier. Although half dead with struggling through the storm, To turn a penny I have brought this form; With it they'll get a chance of seeing clear, For first floor windows are so very dear. He puts down form; mob jumps upon it. Clop. Now here we are. Pier. Upon my rights you trench! Gay music heard outside. PIERRE starts. Pier. What's that? Clop. This is the night, as I've been told, On which the fools their annual revel hold. They'll fill up time, whilst waiting for the others; One lark to us is just as good as t' other. Enter the FETE DES FOUS, L. U. E.: a procession of male and female dancers, fantastically dressed, with baubles in their hands, and all wearing the fool's hood with bells. They carry Lanterns—QUASIMODO borne on men's shoulders in the van, as the Pope of Fools, with a mock paper tiara, and robes. Suddenly, in the middle of the revelry, the bell tolls and the procession enters from the prison gates, headed by CLAUDE FROLLO, still with his umbrella, and his hood over his head. The crowd fall back. CLAUDE recognises QUASIMODO. GUARDS, EXECUTIONER, &c., &c. Clau. (To QUAS.) Rascal, come down: if you'd avoid a topper, This conduct's most indecent, and improper. Esm. That face, that voice! my senses I must doubt, Oh, you're the person I saw up the spout. Clau. The very same. pitched over by that brute; And saved by an extempore parachute. Pier. (Springs from bench—bursts through the GUARDS and rushes up to her.) My Esmeralda! Esm. My poor little Pierre! Pier. (Very much affected.) Here's a go, but you're innocent I swear, They might as well charge me. Esm. 'Twould be a crammer You never murdered aught but sense and grammar. Here, take this scarf— Pier. I will, and if the wretches Say it's a perquisite of Mr. Ketch's, To raise the wind to buy it, I'll compose A three-act piece about you and your woes. Across the water, I've no doubt 'twould sell— Esm. Thanks, thanks, my only friend, and now farewell. Those cries—one moment—let me be allowed, I see a Hansom struggling thro' the crowd. A voice shouts from the cab, hark! Pier. Now 'tis on the wood pavement now 'tis down. Phœ. (Without.) Pardon—crown— The GUARDS approach to seize her. PIERRE stops them. Esm. Don't be in such a hurry, by your leave It might, could, would, or should be a reprieve. Confusion. PHŒBUS rushes on, followed by the GOAT with pardon in mouth: his vizor down. Phœ. Now do stand off—low people, give me air— I want a deal of breath—I've none to spare. Raises his vizor. Esm. It can't be— Phœ. Yes, it is. Esm. My love! Phœ. My fair! Esm. Then you're not dead at all! Phœ. Dead! aú contraire, To think you were accused of murdering me, When I'm alive (to interfering GUARD) and kicking as you see. Esm. One question, between you, me, and the post. Are you quite certain that you're not a ghost? Phœ. If I can stand a squeeze—as ghosts are air, I'm not a ghost. Esm. (Embracing him.) He's not a ghost, I swear. CLAUDE FROLLO, indignant at the embrace, has come down. He recognises PHŒBUS. Clau. The rival who has ever crossed my path, Phœ. (Eyeing him.) The gentleman who gave me a cold bath. Clau. (Drawing dagger.) That failed—so here goes for another plunge. He advances to stab PHŒBUS. The GOAT butts at him and knocks him away. Phœ. There's a good Djali. (pats him.) Did he stop the lunge? Esm. Of course as you're not killed I am acquitted. This lively gentleman must stand committed. GUARDS seize CLAUDE FROLLO. And as you have conge'ed your Fleur de Lys, (To PHŒ.) The old engagement stands of course with me. Enter FLEUR DE LYS with her attendants, and MADAME GONDELAURIER. Fleur. No, common person, it does no such thing, Or I'll a breach-of-promise action bring. (To PHŒ.) After your false oaths which you know you swore, You'd never see this ballet dancer more! It's quite too much, why don't you speak, my mother, Villain! Oh, if I'd only a big brother! Clop. My pretty lady, can't I do as well, Although I was not born a noble swell? Phœ. Don't make a scene, only the common herd, Before bystanders make themselves absurd. What is the use of forcing me to woo, If I love somebody better, dear, than you? Yourself about one sweetheart don't distress, I'll mention you with pleasure at the mess. Esm. My pretty lady, all will yet be well, Cross the poor gipsy's hand, and she will tell Your fortune. (Business.) For those smiles and pretty face The whole battalion dies. Fleur. If that's the case I am content, for I may find no doubt As good fish in the sea as e'er came out. Clop. Your majesty, before the fatal chance That nearly brought you here on air to dance, We had prepared some public browns to swag The Royal Esmeralda lucky bag. With your permission, in this pleasant crowd We'll try it on. Esm. Gambling is not allowed. Clop. Oh! this is not a case of main or nick, Or doubtful betting list or Derby pick; Nor a low sweep with which blacklegs play pranks; Our game shall be all prizes (and few blanks). Phœ. But surely this dark melancholy square Is not a place to hold a fancy fair. Esm. It shall not be: by magic deep and old, A small but potent talisman I hold; It's magic power can make a mountain move, And turn a desert to a fairy grove— Change land to sea, a city to a plain, The peaceful village to the stormy main. It's called (shows whistle) a prompter's whistle: oft before You've seen what it can do—now look once more. ESMERALDA blows the whistle; the scene changes to "THE HALL OF THE GREAT EXPOSITION." Esm. Here, where so many hours we have beguiled, Where fortune has upon us ever smiled, We'll hold our Court of Chance, not Chancery, Because next year we should no further be. Ladies and Gentlemen, observe the ticket They gave you when this night you pass'd our wicket; Don't make mistakes—your proper numbers view; Draw lots of us, while we draw lots of you. The crowd divide, some on each side, and discover a table on which is a lottery-wheel similar to the Wheel of Fortune at the bazaars. The orchestra plays piano "Oh, Fortune à ton caprice." CLOPIN goes to the wheel; the prizes are laying on the table—bouquets, &c., &c. Clop. In this one, out of that there!—one, two, three: Now who's the man to find the little pea? Oh! I forgot; the trick is not the same. My sporting noblemen, now make your game! Our tiger here will take the prizes round, And with the box-keepers they will be found. Observe your ticket while the wheel I spin: Faint heart did never yet fair lady win. ESMERALDA draws a number; CLOPIN proclaims it. Esm. A Chinese screen, all birds and bamboo sails, And parties with pigs' eyes and ditto tails. Fires at last are over; but its form Will fan you just as well in weather warm. The second number is called. Phœ. A bust of Shakspeare. Whether played or read, English dramatic art's acknowledged dead. Cherish him much; for it seems pretty plain We ne'er shall look upon his like again. The third number. Fleur. A fresh-culled bouquet of Spring's choicest flowers, Gathered from Covent Garden's neighbouring bowers, And honoured now in this our gay parterre, By joining flowers still more lovely there. The fourth number. Clau. A Polka, whose marked air will turn to dancing The wildest outbreak of Casino prancing. Although I think all dancing a great bore, I polk'd to it last week till half-past four. The fifth number. Clop. A charming ballad, now, upon my honour, Composed for a distinguished prima donna. Esm. And now the great first prize is last at stake— A work of art, sad work with hearts to make; A statue not to please the antiquarian, But unimpaired by time and cast in Parian; Our rich art manufacture's sweetest prize, Ho! "Dorothea at the Fountain," rise! Music "Meeting of the Waters." A statue of Dorothea, by a living model, after the popular statuette in the shops, rises through the stage. Clop. Sixty-six. Esm. Sixty-six. What, all ashamed? The statue will be sold unless it's claimed. Clop. Sixty-six. Spectator. (From private box or stalls.) I beg your pardon, I have 66; but I turned it upside down and thought it was 99. I'll take the statue, if you please. The STATUE starts. Lady. (PIERRE GRINGOIRE disguised in private box.) Good gracious me, it's alive! Mr. Jones, you can't take home a live statue. Phœ. Have you a packing case, sir? Spec. Never mind a case; we can take it with us in a cab. Lady. Mr. Jones, you don't think I'm going to go in a cab with a live statue! Oh! if you please, somebody—(To ESMERALDA.) I beg your pardon Madame Celeste, but we are young persons just married. I was the unprotected female. Esm. Miss Struggles, I think. Lady. Yes, yes oh! if you please— Spec. There is no occasion to be explaining these private affairs to everybody—I don't care a bit for the statue. Lady. Then come home this minute, if you don't, I shall go alone! She rises as to leave the box. Spec. Oh! very well; I'm coming. (Turns hastily back to the stage and says, in an audible low tone) If you'll be good enough to keep it and raffle it again to morrow, I'll come alone. Lady. Mr. Jones! (Gentleman exits hurriedly.) Esm. So ends our visit; and ended we avow We must in earnest to your verdict bow: What we have done amiss to night pass by, And with your hands our pardon ratify. If angry, your forgiveness we implore, And promise not to do so any more: So may your smiles our efforts greet, with reason, And cheer poor Esmeralda through the season. Finale "Non piu Mesta." Clop. Now to you Phœ. we Fleur. bend Clop. in Phœ. hope Fleur. and fear; Phœ. Your kind Fleur. applause Clop. we seek, All. ah! Clop. And we trust Phœ. you'll Fleur. still Clop. be Phœ. friend Fleur. us here, All. And in our favours speak, ah! Chorus To table! to table! drink while we are able; To table! to table! life is never stable; To table! to table! sing and shout in Babel; Drink while we are able life and daylight's short. TABLEAU. The scene changes to a grand vista of clouds, with pedestals up the stage, on which all the most famous characters of the Adelphi dramas are standing. Curtain.