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- Herausgeber: DigiCat
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
In "The Sorcerer," W. S. Gilbert masterfully weaves a satirical narrative set within a whimsical Victorian world, where a young couple seeks to secure their love through the magical intervention of a sorcerer. Combining elements of operatic performance with incisive social commentary, the play explores themes of love, class, and the folly of desire. Gilbert's trademark wit shines through in the clever, rhythmic dialogue and amusing situations that unfold, embodying the spirit of the late 19th-century theatrical movement while poking fun at societal conventions. W. S. Gilbert, a prominent figure in the world of comic opera, co-created the enduringly popular partnership with composer Arthur Sullivan. Their collaborations have become cornerstones of musical theater, with Gilbert's keen sense for humor and satire often reflecting his experiences in Victorian society. His diverse background in law, literature, and theater informed his ability to capture the intricacies of human relationships, ultimately contributing to the rich character development and plot twists in "The Sorcerer." This enchanting work not only entertains but also invites readers to reflect on the nature of love and societal expectations. Recommended for fans of musical theater, literature that intertwines humor with deeper themes, and anyone who appreciates sharp, insightful wit, "The Sorcerer" is a delightful exploration of enchantment and irony. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - A succinct Introduction situates the work's timeless appeal and themes. - The Synopsis outlines the central plot, highlighting key developments without spoiling critical twists. - A detailed Historical Context immerses you in the era's events and influences that shaped the writing. - A thorough Analysis dissects symbols, motifs, and character arcs to unearth underlying meanings. - Reflection questions prompt you to engage personally with the work's messages, connecting them to modern life. - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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The Sorcerer
Table of Contents
Dramatis Personae
Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, an Elderly Baronet
Alexis, of the Grenadier Guards–His Son
Dr. Daly, Vicar of Ploverleigh
John Wellington Wells, of J. W. Wells & Co., Family Sorcerers
Lady Sangazure, a Lady of Ancient Lineage
Aline, Her Daughter–betrothed to Alexis
Mrs. Partlet, a Pew-Opener
Constance, her Daughter
Chorus of Villagers
Act I
Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's Elizabethan mansion, mid-day.
CHORUS OF VILLAGERS:
Ring forth, ye bells, With clarion sound-- Forget your knells, For joys abound. Forget your notes Of mournful lay, And from your throats Pour joy to-day.
For to-day young Alexis–young Alexis Pointdextre Is betrothed to Aline–to Aline Sangazure, And that pride of his sex is–of his sex is to be next her At the feast on the green–on the green, oh, be sure!
Ring forth, ye bells etc.
Exeunt the men into house.
Enter Mrs. Partlet with Constance, her daughter.
RECITATIVE
MRS. P. Constance, my daughter, why this strange depression? The village rings with seasonable joy, Because the young and amiable Alexis, Heir to the great Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, Is plighted to Aline, the only daughter Of Annabella, Lady Sangazure. You, you alone are sad and out of spirits; What is the reason? Speak, my daughter, speak!
CONST. Oh, mother, do not ask! If my complexion From red to white should change in quick succession, And then from white to red, oh, take no notice! If my poor limbs should tremble with emotion, Pay no attention, mother–it is nothing! If long and deep-drawn sighs I chance to utter, Oh, heed them not, their cause must ne'er be known!
Mrs. Partlet motions to Chorus to leave her with Constance. Exeunt ladies of Chorus.
ARIA–CONSTANCE
When he is here, I sigh with pleasure—When he is gone, I sigh with grief. My hopeless fear No soul can measure—His love alone Can give my aching heart relief!
When he is cold, I weep for sorrow—When he is kind, I weep for joy. My grief untold Knows no to-morrow—My woe can find No hope, no solace, no alloy!
MRS. P. Come, tell me all about it! Do not fear–I, too, have loved; but that was long ago! Who is the object of your young affections? CONST. Hush, mother! He is here!
(Looking off)
Enter Dr. Daly. He is pensive and does not see them.
MRS. P.
(amazed)
Our reverend vicar! CONST. Oh, pity me, my heart is almost broken! MRS. P. My child, be comforted. To such an union I shall not offer any opposition. Take him–he's yours! May you and he be happy! CONST. But, mother dear, he is not yours to give! MRS. P. That's true, indeed! CONST. He might object! MRS. P. He might. But come–take heart–I'll probe him on the subject. Be comforted–leave this affair to me.
They withdraw.
RECITATIVE–DR. DALY
The air is charged with amatory numbers–Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays. Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbers The aching memory of the old, old days?
BALLAD
Time was when Love and I were well acquainted. Time was when we walked ever hand in hand. A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted, None better loved than I in all the land! Time was, when maidens of the noblest station, Forsaking even military men, Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration—Ah me, I was a fair young curate then!
Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled; Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear; Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled; And when I coughed all thought the end was near! I had no care–no jealous doubts hung o'er me–For I was loved beyond all other men. Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me—Ah me, I was a pale young curate them!
At the conclusion of the ballad, Mrs. Partlet comes forward with Constance.
MRS. P. Good day, reverend sir.
DR. D. Ah, good Mrs. Partlet, I am glad to see you. And your little daughter, Constance! Why, she is quite a little woman, I declare!
CONST. (aside) Oh, mother, I cannot speak to him!
MRS. P. Yes, reverend sir, she is nearly eighteen, and as good a girl as ever stepped. (Aside to Dr. Daly) Ah, sir, I'm afraid I shall soon lose her!
DR. D. (aside to Mrs. Partlet) Dear me, you pain me very much. Is she delicate?
MRS. P. Oh no, sir–I don't mean that–but young girls look to get married.
DR. D. Oh, I take you. To be sure. But there's plenty of time for that. Four or five years hence, Mrs. Partlet, four or five years hence. But when the time does come, I shall have much pleasure in marrying her myself—
CONST. (aside) Oh, mother!
DR. D. To some strapping young fellow in her own rank of life.
CONST. (in tears) He does not love me!
MRS. P. I have often wondered, reverend sir (if you'll excuse the liberty), that you have never married.
DR. D. (aside) Be still, my fluttering heart!
MRS. P. A clergyman's wife does so much good in a village. Besides that, you are not as young as you were, and before very long you will want somebody to nurse you, and look after your little comforts.
DR. D. Mrs. Partlet, there is much truth in what you say. I am indeed getting on in years, and a helpmate would cheer my declining days. Time was when it might have been; but I have left it too long–I am an old fogy, now, am I not, my dear? (to Constance)—a very old fogy, indeed. Ha! ha! No, Mrs. Partlet, my mind is quite made up. I shall live and die a solitary old bachelor.
CONST. Oh, mother, mother! (Sobs on Mrs. Partlet's bosom)
MRS. P. Come, come, dear one, don't fret. At a more fitting time we will try again–we will try again.
Exeunt Mrs. Partlet and Constance.
DR. D. (looking after them) Poor little girl! I'm afraid she has something on her mind. She is rather comely. Time was when this old heart would have throbbed in double-time at the sight of such a fairy form! But tush! I am puling! Here comes the young Alexis with his proud and happy father. Let me dry this tell-tale tear!
Enter Sir Marmaduke and Alexis.
RECITATIVE
DR. D. Sir Marmaduke–my dear young friend, Alexis–On this most happy, most auspicious plighting–Permit me as a true old friend to tender My best, my very best congratulations! SIR M. Sir, you are most obleeging! ALEXIS. Dr. Daly, My dear old tutor, and my valued pastor, I thank you from the bottom of my heart!
(Spoken through music)
DR. D. May fortune bless you! may the middle distance Of your young life be pleasant as the foreground–The joyous foreground! and, when you have reached it, May that which now is the far-off horizon (But which will then become the middle distance), In fruitful promise be exceeded only By that which will have opened, in the meantime, Into a new and glorious horizon! SIR M. Dear Sir, that is an excellent example Of an old school of stately compliment To which I have, through life, been much addicted. Will you obleege me with a copy of it, In clerkly manuscript, that I myself May use it on appropriate occasions? DR. D. Sir, you shall have a fairly-written copy Ere Sol has sunk into his western slumbers!
Exit Dr. Daly.
SIR M. (to Alexis, who is in a reverie) Come, come, my son–your fiancee will be here in five minutes. Rouse yourself to receive her.
ALEXIS. Oh rapture!
SIR M. Yes, you are a fortunate young fellow, and I will not disguise from you that this union with the House of Sangazure realizes my fondest wishes. Aline is rich, and she comes of a sufficiently old family, for she is the seven thousand and thirty-seventh in direct descent from Helen of Troy. True, there was a blot on the escutcheon of that lady–that affair with Paris–but where is the family, other than my own, in which there is no flaw? You are a lucky fellow, sir–a very lucky fellow!
ALEXIS. Father, I am welling over with limpid joy! No sicklying taint of sorrow overlies the lucid lake of liquid love, upon which, hand in hand, Aline and I are to float into eternity!
SIR M. Alexis, I desire that of your love for this young lady you do not speak so openly. You are always singing ballads in praise of her beauty, and you expect the very menials who wait behind your chair to chorus your ecstasies. It is not delicate.
ALEXIS. Father, a man who loves as I love—
