Martha.

by W. Friedrich and Friedrich von Flotow.

ACT ONE.

(LADY HARRIET, _maid of honor to the queen, has grown listless and pale, refusing to join in the court revels._ SIR TRISTAN, _an old knight, makes love to her; she will have nothing to say to him, and only asks to be let alone. She is tired of her conventional life, and longs for some new and strange adventure. The curtain rises on her richly furnished boudoir._ LADY HARRIET _is lying listlessly on a couch or arm chair, before her dressing table._ NANCY _is putting finishing touches on her mistress' toilet. The ladies in attendance are grouped near the door in center._)

NO. 1.

CHORUS. Bright as are the stars of heaven, Sweet as any April flow'r, Gay of heart, of gentle bearing, Bless'd with beauty's radiant dower, Why so sad and pale with languor Grows thy face, O lovely maid?

Why our friendly circle shunning, Dost thou sigh alone, As were some dawning joy delayed?

Every splendid gift of fortune, All that riches can impart, Waits upon the maiden's pleasure, Nothing wins her heart.

(NANCY _takes a bouquet of flowers from one of the ladies and offers it to_ LADY H.)

NANCY. See these flowers Sir Tristan sent.

LADY HARRIET (_pushing flowers away_).

I've no heart for lovers' folly, Every pleasure is at end.

CHO. Bright as are the stars of heaven, etc.

NANCY. Every splendid gift of fortune, etc.

LADY H. Ah, there's naught can win my sad and weary heart.

All your words are vain.

(_Ladies in waiting leave stage._)

(NANCY _holds hand mirror before_ LADY H.)

NO. 2.

NAN. Every heart with love inflaming, You the Queen's gay court adorn, Tho' from all a tribute claiming, Think not love alone to scorn.

Pastimes for your pleasure framing, We all labor night and day, Sorrow still your soul is weighing, All your thoughts to sadness bend, If I fail in grief allaying, In its spring your life will end.

LADY H. On my heart 'tis preying, (_she sits up_) Love, wealth, fame, not weighing, In its spring time my life will end.

There's naught that charm to life can lend.

(LADY H. _lies back languidly_.)

FOOTMAN (_enters, speaks_). Sir Tristan of Mickleford, Member of the House of Lords, Knight honored--

LADY H. (_interrupting_). We'll spare you the rest.

(_Enter_ SIR TRISTAN _with flowers. Bows to the ladies, presents flowers, which_ LADY H. _looks at carelessly and drops on table beside her. He is an elderly beau very precise in manner. A few of the ladies return, stealing on the stage to watch the scene, remaining at rear._)

NO. 3.

TRISTAN (_sings_). Lovely cousin, I implore you, Hear my suit and do not chaff.

I would say that I adore you--

LADIES (_near door_). He's too civil, though, by half, He would make a mummy laugh.

(LADIES _leave stage again one by one_.)

TRISTAN. Dare I ask you--

LADY H. Don't be foolish.

TRIS. Dare I ask it you--O dear!

Would you deign--disdain--an offer--

LADY H. For my hand--

NANCY (_aside_). To box his ear!

(LADY H. _laughs aside with_ NAN.)

LADY H. Ah, Sir Tristan, he at least can make me smile!

NAN. Ah, Sir Tristan, he at least can make her smile.

TRIS. O, see already she is smiling, Happy omen, well I know, O, if mine could be this treasure, Happy man were I, that's so!

LADY H. Ah, he can all my woe beguile.

What a funny old beau, Ah!

A funny beau.

TRIS. (_speaks_). Fair Cousin, may I ah--dare hope that you--er--will so far condescend to me--uh--uh--as to go for a walk in the park?

LADY H (_indifferently_). Go fetch my fan!

TRIS. (_brings it._ LADY H. _fans violently_). Would it amuse you to--er--er--let us say--go out for a row on the river?

LADY H. (_ignoring him, glances round_). It seems very chilly here.

Shut the window--there's a good man!

(TRISTAN _shuts it, trots back to her._)

TRIS. (_rubbing his hands_). Shall we go hunting, perhaps? It's a capital day for it.

LADY H. (_fans herself violently again_). O, how close it is!