Guy Fawkes

A Gingerbread Tragedy

Sir:

This burlesque is intended for representation at the Theatre Royal English Opera House with the permission of the Right Honorable the Lord Chamberlain. I remain, sir, with great respect,

T.R.E.O.H.

8 September 1821

____________________________

Guy Fawkes

A Gingerbread Tragedy

Drama. Pers.

Guy Fawkes

A Mysterious hero going about with a Match, and for a Match.

Sir. Evrard Digby

A gentleman….<<??Sp??>>> a Suitor in a new Suit.

Sir Godfrey Tothill

Knight and Gingerbread Baker -- Hot and Hot.

Chorus of Gingerbread Bakers in White Linen

Joan Tothill

in love with Guy

Ruth

her Confidante

Scene First

Room adjoining the Bakehouse

Enter Sir Everard Digby

Fantastically dress’t after the antique mode of the time.

Sir E:

This is the house Sir Godfrey Tothill built,

Where bread is chaste and gingerbread is guilt.

It is the plot, my soul -- the plot, the plot,

That makes the first floor in my breast so hot.

Guy Fawkes has pledged to me his life of lives

to blow up houses as men blow up wives.

It is the plot that played this fatal part ,

pulling long tragic faces at my heart.

Gods! could Sir. Everard Digby -- that’s, could I

see the proud city hurled against the sky,

Sent through the clouds the India House well done,

in the hot Bakehouse of the broiling sun,

Cheapside among the stars and in the air

Politos near the Lion and the Bear,

The Magdalen shiver’d by the Virgin’s side

and the Asylum in the moon’s inside.

Then should I die in glory?

But away frisky and fierce ambition – come, soft day.

Come love, come tenderness, come beauty’s Ghost

Oh for a letter by the two penny post

to tell me I’m adored, but that can’t be –

she knows not I esteem her. Hold! I see,

gloomy as Gunpowder, that sire of shocks,

the toddling trusty figure of Guy Fawkes

He comes upon my wish

Music

Enter Guy Fawkes

Welcome, my Guy.

Wouldst thou go five in nine -- thou lookest dry,

and know, dread King of Powder, so am I.

My trusty Plotter for the world’s purgation,

my man of fire, what means this meditation?

Guy F-

I cannot drink. Hope like the sweep’s all up.

My lips turn up their noses at a cup.

Passion is pampering me with tears and groans

and makes a pretty picking of my bones.

Sir E

Art thou so sad, explosion’s fiery Child?

Give me thy hand.

Guy F-

I’m weary, weak and wild.

I want some sentimental food to suit my wandering mood.

Sir E:

"Your leg has found the boot."

(excuse the proverb) -- But my feelings pant

to give that luscious nourishment you want.

Guy! I’m in love. The blind God’s active shuttle

hath woven a web o’er me and Miss. Joan Tothill.

Guy-

Hah!

Sir E

And I think she may in time return

my flame and coolly condescend to burn.

Guy

(Striking on Sir Everard’s arm)

Oh Gemini!

Sir E.

Why, Mr. Fawkes! Why, Guy!

He shuts the window shutters of his eye

and his knick knocking heart beats like old Gooseberry

Fawkes!

Guy

(recovering)

Stay! I’ve been asleep. Lord bless you! Stop.

A customer? I’ll soon be in the shop.

Ho! ‘tis Sir Everard Digby. Am I ill?

Sir E

The air is close. A penny in a till

Enjoys the breezes more than we in town.

Guy

(aside)

What! love my Joan? I’ll strike damned Digby down.

I’ll bore holes in his windpipe like a flute.

I’ll score his ribs like pork. By heaven I’ll do’t.

I’ll give him rats’ bane. I’ll do all the harm

that I well can. I’ll –softly -- I’ll -- be calm.

Sir Everard, you’re in love. I wish you joy

and trust you will not find the Lady coy.

Sir E.

Look at this dress -- this person. Can I pass

before a Lady in a looking glass

and not impress my image?

Guy:

Digby Ho!

Coat, wig and stock. Thou’rt every inch a Beau.

(aside)

My Joan loves me! She surely does as I

oft lie awake to give myself the lie.

I’ll cross Sir Everard’s purposes -- but see

Sir Godfrey Tothill -- yes, I think ‘tis he,

the city’s grandest fancy baker.

King of the nuts, of Gingerbread, best maker

of Ladies’ Fingers and unless fame lies,

unconquered in the glory of Bulls Eyes.

He comes as grand as one of his gilt men

lost deep in thoughts of lollipops

(Guy retires up)

Music: Oh the Roast Beef

(Enter Sir Godfrey Tothill, musing,

Who has been admiring himself in the background)

Sir E-

When, when, when shall I clutch thee? Ah! her baking Father!

His presence sets my grandeur in a lather.

He courts my eye. What! will he dare to risk it?

My secrets would he seek -- a live Sponge Biscuit?

His soft and human dough rolls at my feet.

Well, pride avaunt! a Digby deigns to greet

a Tothill – birds, be silent! beasts, be dumb!

This moment, tell it not to that to come.

Sir Godfrey -- Physic would be sweet to this --

I take your hand

Sir G

Sir Everard, I kiss

the neat calashes (?)of your knightly boot.

Sir E

Now could I kick this Baker, but my foot

would take that white vile soiling which the trade

gives jostling passengers. Arise, my Blade!

You have a daughter, gingerbread od’s bud <sp??>

you have the mopusses <????> And I the blood.

Let them be mixed. The leaven will be good.

Sir G

My daughter! You! Sir Everard! my stars!

It scared me like a rat among the jars.

Marry my Joan! Lord bless us! you , a knight!

a noble of the court! My hazy sight

so thickens with the joy I scarce know

whether I stand on head or heels or both together.

But come. Ah, Guy! Pray stand aside, my man.

Come, sweet Sir Everard

Sir E

We’ll discuss the plan

as we approach your home.

Guy

(suddenly)

Infernals, off!

You tire me, tear me like a winter cough.

You madden my young heart. Oh all ye powers

who regulate a man and his halting hours,

frustrate this brace of knights! Be my heart crammed

with courage to revenge, and they be damned

Exit Hastily

Sir G

Guy is beside himself -- his talk is gory.

Something’s amiss in Fawkes’s upper story!

Let me but see Joan made Sir Everard’s wife

and hear at night her winter parties strife,

read (when I’ve learnt to read) her gilded name --

Lady Joan Digby -- carved into fame.

Let me but live to dance upon my knee

a young Sir Digby and -- but let me see.

A thought has struck me -- thought seldom lingers –

the King’s Cook must be low in Ladies’ Fingers.

Sir E

Sir Godfrey, I’ll walk round that way

and we will take our orders as we take our tea.

Sir G

I like the plan full well, Sir Everard Digby

(Exeunt hand in hand. Joan enters, putting down a shirt she is at work on)

J-

It does not signify, my mind is gone

and my poor faggiing fingers work alone.

These seven sis’d <?> needles prick me to the bone

Domestic habits torture me outright –

gusset nor ribband yield me a delight.

Gods! how I love! how dote upon my Guy,

My heart’s serenity is all my eye.

Ruth!

(Ruth enters)

Ruh

Ma’am?

J

Where, where is Mr. Fawkes?

Ruth

I know not, Ma’am, perhaps upon his walks.

Prey stop your mind’s alarms with resolution …..<???>

J.

I pine, I pine, good gracious How I pine!

If I’d the keys I’d take a glass of wine.

Ruth

Take spirit, Ma’am

J.

Do you mean Nancy girl?

Ruth

Spirit of any kind -- life even in purl.

Music without

J

But soft! what’s that, so plaintive and so low?

Ruth

The Journeymen, a-singing o’er the dough.

Thus their light hearts bring mirth

and never speak ill, mixing their tender feelings with the breads

(Three Journeymen Bakers appear at the grate, each with a gilt figure)

Glee:

We three Journeymen be,

Gingerbread Journeymen sweet to see.

After our tea with minstrelsy

we cheer the Bakehouse and

Join in a glee

Journeymen disappear.

J.

Beautiful Journeymen , ye thrill my hopes.

Your pensive notes are sweet as lollypops.

Mellifluous Bakers! Dulcet doughy singers!

More sweet your warblings are than Ladies’ Fingers.

(turns round and sees Guy Fawkes at the window)

Gods! Mr. Guy! my nerves are all unstrung.

My heartstrings are all entangled around my tongue.

How got you there? did you come down the flue?

or crawled you down the area ?

Guy

Joan, are you

alone all loving in your loneliness?

Ruth

Hush or you’ll run your noses in distress.

The Journeymen among the flour bins ply

their kneady labours.

J.

Give me leave to sigh.

A sigh can’t perforate the Bakehouse wall.

(she prepares to sigh)

Guy

My dear, I think you’d best not sigh at all,

I’ll pass this window. Ruth, undo the bolt.

(Ruth lets him in)

Ruth

For heaven’s sake, Mr. Fawkes, you heedless colt,

you’ll kick the <????> down and there! Look!

Guy

Damn the things!

Ruth:

You dip’t your coat tail in the jam

Guy

O stand aside. My life!

(clasping Joan)

Joan:

My soul!

Guy

This sigh! my heart!

J

My hope!

Guy

My pearl! My Joan !

J.

My Guy!

Guy

You look a little pale.

Perhaps the flour has touched your cheek

Joan

It may be, for the hour

I have been making tartlets for my love.

Guy

Oh let me kiss your hand. Zounds! that’s the glove.

Unclothe these fingers from their leather cells,

those ten white elves within ten flowery bells,

and to my lips commit them for a minute.

(kisses her hand )

Exquisite thumb! there’s surely treacle in it

J.

There may be treacle too -- my father’s <<???ade> calls for such sweet.

Guy

But when, my sweetest maid, when

shall I rush with you to love and marriage?

tell me, I’ll buy a ring and hire a carriage,

and soon shall you be borne, my beauty, where

no father’s torture and no <???? > are .

J.

Let’s sing of love.

Ruth, keep good watch outside.

Bride cake is yours when I become a bride.

Ruth

Madam, I go -- but that is in Tom Thumb.

Madam, I’ll do the opposite to come.

(curtsies and retires.)

Guy

By all the Bachelors Buttons that do stock

your father’s shop, I’ll love you by the clock.

(points to it)

J;

I’ll clear my pipes. ahem! Cough! Guy, now start.

Let us sing something nice about the heart.

(duet)

air: How sweet in the woodlands

(Guy and Joan dueting)

How sweet in the Bakehouse

With yeast and with flour

To awaken shrill <???> and chirp for an hour.

But hard is the crust when the baking is done,

So fathers are crusty and spoil all our fun.

(at the conclusion of the duet Ruth rushes in)

Ruth

Sir Godfrey and Sir Everard approach!

Guy

Pray do the Barclay it <??ride <>a coach

J.

For virtue’s sake, be quick! Where shall he hide?

Fawkes, love, that oven possesses an inside!

Ruth

Yes! into that you’ll creep without a flout

and by the fire can sit till you come out.

Guy

Oh Joan! is this your love, to do me brown?

J.

Can he get up the area ?

Ruth

or go down

Among the innocent flour in the bin?

J

Or get into a sack?

Ruth

To the chin

crouch still and pensive in the water butt?

Joan

Or lurk among the loaves? Or closely put

his body in the dust’s dark palace.

Guy

None of these can I do. Zounds! you would squeeze

into a walnut shell my legs and knees

Ruth

Gods! there’s the clock! we’ll put him in the case!

Joan

A brave good thought! come quickly to your place!

Guy

Are the weights up? Well, in I’ll go. I climb

a rogue into the bowels of old time.

(music)

He gets into the case. They close the door.

J

Hand me the shirt. I’ll make a shift to sew.

Ruth, take this collar -- work or sing -- there! throw

the thread and tape about -- now let them come!

Ruth

Drat can I wish they were deaf and dumb ?

(music)

(enter Sir Godfrey and Sir Everard)

Sir G

(aside)

There, there behind her needle, there she sits,

A little woebegon about her wits.

Daughter! Child! Joan! Come hither. What! a tear?

Keep it to salt your beef. You persevere,

Stubborn one of my house, to vex and thwart

My damned old stupid good for nothing heart.

This is your husband -- sweet Sir Everard --

Sir Everard Digby

Joan

Sire ‘tis surely hard

to give the hand and heart to different men

Sir E

(bowing)

Give me her hand, her heart will come again

J.

The Baronet confounds me! I can not

so throw to misery my balanced lot

as to obey you.

Sir G

Death and the Knave of Spades!

(Joan shrinks)

Though most perverse of all cantankerous maids

may I ne’er bake another <<might???>

may I underdo each biscuit and scorch each pie

if I resign my wishes. Look, Miss Joan, you see that clock ?

J

I do and I do press my hopes in that

Sir G

I give you minutes ten to piece that broken mind.

J

Not nine

Ruth

What disappointment!

J.

Horror!

Guy

(from the clock)

what a bore <???>

Sir E

(advances)

By your leave

Air: Scots Wha Hae

By that sweetest wheaten brow,

By thy nature soft as dough,

By thy spiced nut of a show,

Love, oh love me, Joan.

By those orbs which shame the skies,

Orbs more sweet than two Bulls Eyes,

Thy figure under the assize,

by these I’m all thine own

J

(fidgety)

The minutes fly -- each thought-befeathered minute

Flies, and its glancing wing had lightning in it.

The time is out, is out, is out.

(Guy opens the case quietly and puts the clock back 10 minutes with his sword.)

Sir E:

Gentlest of Joans, may I not claim the <?>>>

Joan

The time is not expired.

Sir G

Bless us! the hand

has not advanced a jot The clock must stand.

J

(aside)

‘Tis a hard case, I cannot clasp my love.

(Guy sneezes in the clock

All start. Joan trembles.)

Sir G

What in the name of all the powers above,

what was that noise?

Sir E

Aye what?

(Joan motions to Ruth who takes the hint and sneezes)

Sir G

Why Ruth, was it you?

Ruth

Yes Sir, a cold. I’m much obliged to you.

Sir G

Still the clock hardly crawls. Come, come my friend,

the next dull batch of minutes we will end

over a bottle of mead and near the oven,

where warmth and quiet and ease are nicely woven.

We’ll sit and sip the time away. Come on.

Sir E

(bows)

I am your most obedient servant, Joan

Exit

Sir G

But what! I see the clock case loose -- I’ll lock it.

So now.

(Locks the case and exits)

Joan

Each hope that grows they dock it

Guy

(within)

Consent, consent, for form’s sake! I inherit

fears for our love.

J.

Rest, rest, perturbed spirit.

Guy-

How shall I now escape?

J.

Ah how indeed?

Time, the old enemy to love, will speed.

And now he has you in his clutches

(Enter Ruth)

Ruh

Silence!

Your voices I could hear, I vow, a mile hence.

See, they approach the oven.

(Enter behind the grated window Sir Everard and Sir Godfrey. They seat themselves near the oven at a table, put down the bottle. Their backs are to the audience. Sir Godfrey lays a key upon the table )

J.

Look the key! Ruth!

Ruth

I perceive <///???.

J.

How it frightens me!

Ruth

(looking around)

Oh by the Bakehouse gods! that peel!

J.

How, How?

R.

Hush! it will reach the key.

(music)

(Ruth puts the peel through the grate and after of the usual hairbreadth melodramatic hazards gets the key on the end of it.)

J.

It does, I vow!

Wonderful! Ruth, come let my lover out.

(They release Guy. exit Ruth)

Guy

The miscreant knight <?????>>>

Twenty minutes since I’ve been immured!

My old complaint of mercy is quite cured.

My injuries are numerous as the sands

by these two hands thrust under those two hands .(pointing to clock)

Sir G

(at table with glasses)

The army comes with three.

Guy

Who’s there?

J

My sire.

Guy

I’ll blow them up as sure as fire is fire.

There have I been in upright coffin penned.

<<<?????>>>> <<???>>

And lead and darkness as you send

a man to transportation in a ship.

Horror on horrors huddle

Sir G

Hip, hip, hip

Hurrah!

Sir E

Hurrah

Sir G

Hurrah

(they drink and rap the table)

Guy

They’ll soon be primed.

No one can say my passion’s not well timed.

Farewell, my love, a while, look cheerily there.

Ere time shall let five minutes take the air,

Ere moves his skimming dish the pendulum,

Ere long I’ll send the rogues to Kingdom Come.

(exit Guy hastily)

J

My father’s life may as well be saved,

for he is my papa -- so my mamma told me.

But for my lover, he may die, the sot.

I’ll drop my sire a line to hint the plot.

(sits down and writes awkwardly, Ruth standing near)

"Dear Sir

This comes hoping you’re well as I ‘m

the same. Pray leave the Bakehouse in good time.

By four o’clock you’ll find it get too hot.

Do leave the oven or else you’ll go to pot.

Excuse bad spelling, my pen is bad. Adieu

<<???>>> to the gent that sits beside of you.

Joan"

There. Where’s a wafer?

Ruth

Here’s a pin

(Takes one from pin cushion hanging at her side)

Well, that will do as well.

My heart goes pit a pat! They rise -- my father rises, goes away.

(exit Sir G)

Ye gods be praised, he’ll not blow up today

Sir Everard sleeps

Hark!

Ruth
Look!

J.

Hush!

Ruth

See!

J.

Oh!

My Guy Fawkes with his tinderbox to blow

our Parliament House to ruins heads along.

How bread will rise! a Rye House plot! ‘tis wrong

but I am dumb.

(music)

(Guy behind brings in a barrel of gunpowder, lays a train through the window, examines the eyes of Sir Edward with his lantern, and retires mysteriously!)

J.

Oh, palpitating presence! he prepares

to keep his oath! My father’s on the stairs.

Ruth

Behold him here.

(Enter Guy)

J.

It is my Guy! my Guy!

one kiss!

Guy

Don’t bother me, there, by and by

(music)

(he prepares to fire the train -A cry of treason )

(The three gingerbread bakers appear, rush on and attack him. He throws off his cloak and fights with his sword and flambeau. He drives them off Enter Sir Godfrey. He is about to attack him when Joan interposes and tries to blow the light out He rushes to the train and exclaims)

Sir G

There was a major go at Ursa Minor.

(terrific music)

(He fires the train. The oven is blown up.

Pies, gingerbread, legs of mutton, pigs, and Sir Everard Digby and the table and chairs all go up with the explosion. The characters form a tableau. The curtain falls.

Finis