Oh, woe is me, I rather think!

Oh, woe is me, I rather think!

Yes, woe is me, I rather think!

Whate'er betide You are his bride, And I am left Alone-- bereft!

Yes, woe is me, I rather think!

Yes, woe is me, I rather think!

Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me, Yes, woe is me, I rather think!

ENSEMBLE All frenzied with despair I/they rave, The grave is cheated of its due.

Who is, who is the misbegotten knave Who hath contrived this deed to do?

Let search, let search Be made throughout the land, Or his/my vindictive anger dread-- A thousand marks, a thousand marks he'll/I'll hand Who brings him here, alive or dead, Who brings him here, alive or dead!

A thousand marks, a thousand marks, Alive, alive or dead Alive, alive or dead Who brings him here, alive, alive, or dead.

[At the end, ELSIE faints in FAIRFAX's arms; all the YEOMEN and CROWD rush off the stage in different directions, to hunt for the fugitive, leaving only the HEADSMAN on the stage, and ELSIE insensible in FAIRFAX's arms.

END OF ACT I

ACT II

[SCENE.-- The same-- Moonlight.]

[Two days have elapsed.]

[WOMEN and YEOMEN of the Guard discovered.

No. 13. Night has spread her pall once more (CHORUS AND SOLO) People, Yeomen, and Dame Carruthers

CHORUS Night has spread her pall once more, And the pris'ner still is free: Open is his dungeon door, Useless now his dungeon key.

He has shaken off his yoke-- How, no mortal man can tell!

Shame on loutish jailor-folk-- Shame on sleepy sentinel!

[Enter DAME CARRUTHERS and KATE

DAME Warders are ye?

Whom do ye ward?

Warders are ye?

Whom do ye ward?

Bolt, bar, and key, Shackle and cord, Fetter and chain, Dungeon and stone, All are in vain-- Prisoner's flown!

Spite of ye all, he is free-- he is free!

Whom do ye ward? Pretty warders are ye!

WOMEN Pretty warders are ye!

Whom do ye ward?

Spite of ye all, he is free-- he is free!

Whom do ye ward?

Pretty warders are ye!

MEN Up and down, and in and out, Here and there, and round about; Ev'ry chamber, ev'ry house, Ev'ry c.h.i.n.k that holds a mouse, Ev'ry crevice in the keep, Where a beetle black could creep, Ev'ry outlet, ev'ry drain, Have we searched, but all in vain, all in vain.

WOMEN Warders are ye?

Whom do ye ward?

MEN Ev'ry house, ev'ry c.h.i.n.k, ev'ry drain,

WOMEN Warders are ye?

Whom do ye ward?

MEN Ev'ry chamber, ev'ry outlet, Have we searched, but all in vain.

WOMEN Night has spread her pall once more, And the pris'ner still is free:

MEN Warders are we? Whom do we ward?

Whom do we ward?

Warders are we? Whom do we ward?

Whom do we ward?

WOMEN Open is his dungeon door, Useless his dungeon key!

ALL Spite of us all, he is free, he is free!

MEN Pretty warders are we, he is free!

Spite of us all, he is free, he is free!

WOMEN Open is his dungeon door,

MEN Spite of us all, he is free, he is free!

Pretty warders are we, he is free! He is free!

WOMEN He is free! He is free!

Pretty warders are ye,

ALL He is free! He is free!

Pretty warders are ye/we!

[Exeunt all.

[Enter JACK POINT, in low spirits, reading from a huge volume

POINT [reads] "The Merrie Jestes of Hugh Ambrose, No.

7863.The Poor Wit and the Rich Councillor. A certayne poor wit, being an-hungered, did meet a well-fed councillor.'Marry, fool,' quothe the councillor, 'whither away?' 'In truth,' said the poor wag, 'in that I have eaten naught these two dayes, I do wither away, and that right rapidly!' The Councillor laughed hugely, and gave him a sausage." Humph! the councillor was easier to please than my new master the Lieutenant. I would like to take post under that councillor. Ah! 'tis but melancholy mumming when poor heart-broken, jilted Jack Point must needs turn to Hugh Ambrose for original light humour!

[Enter WILFRED, also in low spirits.

WILFRED [sighing] Ah, Master Point!