Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/114

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AS WE HATE IT.

["Mr. Stanley Cooke will begin his tour with Caste at the Royal, Salisbury, on Monday. The old piece, we understand, has been altered so as to allow of references to current events in the War. Sam Gerridge now enlists in the last Act, and appears in khaki."—The Stage.

Not to be outdone, Mr. Punch begs to present scenes from his new version of As You Like It.]

Act I.

An open place (with goal-posts at each end).

Enter from opposite turnstiles Duke Frederick and Rosalind (with Celia).

Duke. How now, daughter and cousin? Are you crept hither to see the football?

Rosalind. Ay, my lord, so please you give us leave.

Duke. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you. I only came myself from—er—duty. It's disgraceful to think that our able-bodied young men should waste their time kicking a ball about in this crisis. I would enlist myself if only I were ten years younger.

Celia (thoughtfully). I know a man just about your age who—

Duke (hastily). Besides, I have a weak heart.

[Shout. Orlando kicks a goal.

Rosalind. Who is that excellent young man ?

Duke. Orlando. I have tried to persuade him to go, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him.

[Whistle. Time. Arden Wednesday is defeated 2-1. Orlando approaches.

Rosalind. Young man, are you aware that there is a war on?

Orlando. Yes, lady.

Rosalind (giving him a small white feather from her bag).

Wear this for me, the lastling of the flock;To-morrow you shall have a better one.

Orlando. Lady, I thank you for your welcome gift.This little favour cunningly affixedWith mucilage upon the upper lipShall take the place of those informal sproutingsWhich military etiquette demandsAnd Nature has persistently denied me.

Rosalind (alarmed). Why want you a moustache, young man?

Orlando.

    To fight with.(Bowing.) Second Lieutenant O. de Boys; gazettedThis very morning to the Fifth BattalionThe Arden Foresters—and at your service.My men await me. Fare you well, fair ladies.

[Exit.

Rosalind (sighing). Celia, my dear, I've made a fool of myself again.

Celia. It looks like it. You're always so hasty.

Rosalind (casually). I wonder where the Fifth Battalion is training?

Celia. Somewhere in the Forest, I expect.

Rosalind. Alas, what danger will it be to us Maids as we are to travel forth so far!

Celia. I'll put myself into a Red Cross dress.

Rosalind. I do not like the Red Cross uniform.

Celia. You could be photographed ten times a day:"The Lady Rosalind a Red Cross Nurse."

Rosalind. I like it not. Nay, I will be a Scout.

Celia. What shall I call thee when thou art a Scout?

Rosalind. I'll have no worse a name than Archibald.The Boy Scout Archibald. And what of you?

Celia. Something that hath a reference to my state;No longer Celia now, but Helia.

Rosalind.     Help!

Act II.

An open place in the Forest.

A Voice. Platoon! Properly at ease there, blank you! 'Tn-shun! Dis-miss!

Enter Amiens, Jaques and others.

Amiens.

Song.It's a long way to Tipperary,It's a long way to go;It's a long way to Tipperary,To the sweetest girl I know... (et-cetera.)

Jaques. More, more, I prithee, more.

Amiens. It will make you melancholy, Corporal Jaques.

Jaques. I want to be melancholy. Any man would be melancholy when his officer's moustache falls off on parade.

Amiens. A white one too—a regular Landsturmer. And yet he's not an old man, Corporal.

Jaques. Ay, it's a melancholy business. Come, warble.

Amiens.

Song. Who doth all comfort shun And bates the blooming sun, Eating what he can get And sleeping in the wet,Come hither, come hither, come hither;  Here shall he learn  To right-about-turn In winter and rough weather.

Jaques (getting up). A melancholy business. Amiens, my lad, I feel the old weakness coming over me.

Amiens (alarmed). You're going to recite, Corporal?

Jaques. Yes, I'm going to recite. (Sighs.)

Amiens. Fight against it, Corporal, fight against it! It didn't matter in the old civilian days, long ago; but think if it suddenly seized you when we were going into action!

Jaques. I know, I know. I've often thought of it. But when once it gets hold of me——— (Pleadingly) This will only be a very little one, Amiens... H'r'm!

  All the world's at warAnd all the men are learning to be soldiers:They have their exits—(Bugle)   Dammit, there goes mine.

[Exit hurriedly, followed by the others.

Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Rosalind (reading).

No mistress ever has recalledA sweeter youth than Archibald.The only name that never palledOn Rosalind was Archibald.How firmly is thy face installedUpon my heart, O Archibald!

Celia. Is that your own, dear?

Rosalind. I found it on a tree. There's lots more... Oh, Celia, listen! It ends up:

O! once I was severely galledBy feathers from my Archibald.

Celia, it must be Orlando! He has penetrated my disguise and he forgives me!

[Enter Orlando from left at the head of his men.

Orlando (to his platoon). Halt! Eyes right! (Advancing to Rosalind.) Lady, you gave me a feather once. I have lost it. Can you give me another one? My Colonel says I must have a moustache.

Rosalind. Alas, Sir, I have no others.

Orlando (firmly). Very well. Then there's only one thing for me to do. I shall have to join the Navy.

He does so, thus providing a naval Third Act... And so eventually to the long-wished-for end.

A. A. M.

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