 Jametis Personi of Whittington and his cat. Hugh Fitzwarren, Mercer, Redby. Kim Stish. Alice Fitzwarren, his daughter, Redby. JC Guarn. Dick Whittington. Redby Philippa. Cat. Sandra Meows and Pears. Redby Andy Minter. Dorothy The Cook, Redby Tom. The Fairy Bluebell, Redby. Cory Samuel. Captain of the Ship. Redby David Lawrence. Sovereign of Zanzibar, Redby. Phil Chenevere. First Apprentice. Redby Anne Chang. Second Apprentice, Redby. Ren Eisling. First Girl. Redby Anna Roberts. Second Girl. Redby Trisha G. Third Girl. Redby Lucy Perry. Helmsman. Redby MB. Narrator and Stage Directions, read by Ruth Golding. End of Dramatis Personi. Scene one of Whittington and his cat. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to find out how you can volunteer to, please visit LibriVox.org. Whittington and his cat, or Harley Quinn, Lord Mayor of London. Grand Comic Christmas Annual by E. L. Blanchard. Scene one, Old Cheapside near Bow Church with City Condit. On Thasher of Shop, Hugh Fitzwarren, Mercer. May Day Morning. Merry Peels of Bells from Church Belfrees as Curtain Rises blended with strains of Old English air to which enter the city prentices and their lasses, bearing huge branches of May and ranging along stage on each side. Change of air now is the month for Maying, and troop of milkmaids enter with garlands and baskets of daisies, buttercups, primroses, violets and caslips. Air changes to twos in the merry month of May and mummers enter. Apprentices from each side appear from shops. Welcome, my lads, who up at early morn, these glorious bowels of May have hither borne. Fair greeting to a pretty lass's crown with dainty garlands from the woods around. Daisy's and buttercups from Village Green. A bunch of caslips and the first yet seen. And violets, sweeter than anything. We're losing good old customs, more's the pity. Little there's green about us in the city. Out of our banks quite different branches grow. And cent per cent all odours that we know. About cheap side we'll implant our stocks. While round our shipping only grow our docks. Look, down Corn Hill, the maple now they fix. Up like ourselves a little after six. We have May Day while the sun shines. Let us share the cakes and cream in Milk Street they prepare. Let's join the sports and merry May to all. Prentice lads and lassies wreath shop fronts with flowers, garlands hung. Then Morris dance, taking characters off at back. Master Hugh Fitzwarren enters from shop in nightcap and dressing-gown. Come lads and lassies, time for business quite. You have had your May, now work with all your might. I deal in everything the world produces. Wonderful world! Here come, violets, no excuses. Apprentices get to work. Shops open down cheap side and business of the day begins. Porters enter with packages for Fitzwarren. Variously labelled silks from France. Velvet from Genoa. Broadcloth from Yorkshire. Glass from Venice. Into this Fitzwarren falls with smash. Hogshead rolled in labelled wine from Spain. Clarks try to taste and are approved. Carrier with egg chest labelled eggs from Essex. Fitzwarren detects the eggs as not being fresh and instead of paying carrier knocks him into the egg chest with crash. There's a punishment for delay on the road. Business continued till bales of goods all taken off and stage clear. Breakfast we must dispatch with expedition so great just now is city competition. A savory chime and round of beef provide no bad investment when transferred inside. I'll breakfast here. Then all my ledgers look, doubling the interest both in beef and book. Apprentices bring out table, chair and large book labelled ledger. They then arrange breakfast, ham, beef, bread, jug of ale. Fitzwarren eats breakfast and examines ledger. I bought of various goods of few much wanted I have heard but also purchased many things which seem to me absurd. Yet still the worst I try to think will go off well along. Hello, what's this to me? I say there's another good man gone wrong. Another good man gone wrong. He has been in my books for long. It's this year and others queer would make a good man go wrong. Would make a good man go wrong. As Fitzwarren does a short dance of desperation he detects the clerks with long pens behind their ears joining in and they are rebuked accordingly during which Fitzwarren's nightcap gets crooked. Gone is my appetite. I feel today I'm breaking fast in quite a different way. Table, et cetera, removed and exit apprentices. Where is my Alice? Here, Pa, see me fly. Enter Alice from house. Your precious nightcap has gone all awry. That nightcap child is emblem of my fate for things just now go anything but straight. Largely I've purchased silks which must be paid for but in my till no preparation made for. Bad debts are on my books some turks I've bought which don't turn out precisely what they ought. Traffic of street going on during this period illustrating old London characteristics. Oh, Father, don't go in this way. Don't. Your father don't intend it, child. He won't. Would you seek cool fate to ruin carry him? Find some rich fellow out and go and marry him. Marry? I marry. Business he might learn and share as partner all my great concern. What, Father? Sell your child to keep your shop? Going with all the fixtures. Going? Yes, stop. Of course I don't mean that, exactly. Stay, we must reduce expenses anyway. We must retrench. Our apprentices will thin then. They eat their heads off so there's nothing in them. Cut down the cook. Cut off. I doubt me whether we should cut off in this way all together. We are not bankrupt quite, but it seems comical to see Fitzwarren do the economical. A boy to run of errands, clean the boots better than serving men. Your purpose suits something in this style. It is a sad disaster. Here's a chalk drawing done by an old master. Fitzwarren has chalked on board large inscription, a lad wanted inquire within. An ancient joke suggested by this dodging. Here he at once may find his board and lodging. Madeleass is returned to greet Alice with floral crown as the result of election of the May Queen. Queen of the May, may I that station fill? You, darling, are all spring. Do what you will. You look so charming that today, who knows, some rich old alderman will perhaps propose. Is out so bright love charming every eye? Blossoms pink and white love meet us passing by. All the little songs do sing a merry tune, Telling us they welcome summer time of tune. Leafy powers twining under sunny sky, All appearing happy, happy to am I. Here I come to meet you on this merry day, To tell you how I greet you as the Queen of May. Short trip takes Alice and may girls off, and Fitzwarren returns to shop. Enter Dick Whittington with stick and bundle over his shoulder. He looks weary and fatigued, gazes round at shops, and comes to front. So this is London. Dick, you once were told that every London street was paved with gold. Nothing but stones I see for all my walk. What precious nonsense country people talk. Fifty long miles since yesterday I've trudged, even a penny for a ride begrudged. Foot sore and famished, weary, worn and weak. Fortune indeed seems much too far to seek. The city conduit, I will call here first. Its grateful stream at least will slake my thirst. Goes to conduit and rests. Joyous recognition of Whittington and his cat. Why, Tom, my faithful Tom. Hello? I say. What have you followed me, and all this way? Was ever cat so faithful, fond and true? What brought you up from Gloucestershire? Erm. You came to me, but then the cause, Puss, how? Did Molly treat you cruelly? You dear old thing. So far from our abode you, trusty Tom, have traced me all the road. Me, how you did it, bothers. But, Tom, now mine, you nair shall be another's. We'll never part. I see you gladly stare. What ere our fortunes will those fortunes share? Free to go anywhere about this spot. We have both the freedom of the city got. As one of the family, Thomas, I shall treat you. My spirit's quite revive again to meet you. A famous ratter I'm quite aware I'm sure to find in you. And all confess that more or less no better cat did mule. Should old maids fall in love with him, I should not much complain. But should some pretty girl look sweet, I might observe again. Tommy make room for your uncle, there's a little dear. Tommy make room for your uncle, you'd better disappear. Here, you know that cats must keep their place, I'll take the place of you. When maidens get to want a pet, make room for your uncle too. Cats draws attention to board outside shop. What's this? Lad wanted, and a ply within. Good master Thomas, here we will begin. You hide behind the doorpost, just like that. They mustn't see that I have got a cat. Cat conceals himself, witting to knots at door. Fitzwarren comes forth, now attired in full dress as tradesman of the period. During dialogue the cat plays sundry comical tricks with the Mercer. Please master Mercer, as I look upon, you want a lad? Well, I'm the lad you want. Oh, you're a lad. That's it sir, that's my case. I mean a lad who has come about the place, not an apprentice. No sir, country boy, who's come to town in search of some employ. You are dressed according to the period. I'm not wishing to be thought out of my time. Your name? Dick Whittington. Name well began, I hope you'll show your wit in town, young man. That's good for me. With H it spells. We always drop our H's round bow bells. How much a week? Five shillings. Three, and stop. I see that H's are not all you drop. Well, I agree, you'll find me all desired. I'll raise your wages after you are hired. Come, that's not bad for me, I'm not a stickler. Is it a bargain? Signed and sealed particular. As errant boy, you'll find me handy one ever to your wishes true. This youth is not a jack-a-dandy. I really think that he will do. I'll never stick but all attend to and shortly learn the rule of free. For when a boy a shop you send to the best of schools it ought to be. Wait and measure shall be pleasures nothing puts me in of fuss. Though not seven up till eleven no sort of what comes amiss to us. Prentice lads and lasses return with mummers etc. Alice as queen of the may born in on throne. Large banner scroll born over her head and merry may to all. An exchange of kind looks between Alice and Whittington. Cat has climbed up to a balcony to enjoy the fun, and when Fitzwarren leads stick into the shop, the cat slyly gets into the house by window, and scene closes on animated group. End of Scene One Scene Two of Whittington and His Cat by E. L. Blanchard. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Kitchen in Fitzwarren's House Large fireside of the period, cupboard practicable with shelves, window practicable. Enter rapidly the Prentices, one bearing huge joint of uncooked beef on tray, and the others loaves of bread on trencher, followed by Mistress Dorothy the cook with large basting ladle. May sports indeed. I'll sport you. You folks never give your insides holiday, however. You lazy violets. Fetch the table. Quick! Prentices go off. So you take pleasure while to work. I stick. Prentices return with large kitchen table in centre. Queen of the May are pretty doing this is. If you want May queens, you want me not Mrs. Place on the table beef and bread correctly. You'll put them down a different way directly. Prentices arrange beef and loaves accordingly. You have set down one and carried one, you know. Now add yourselves to what remains and go. Prentices belaboured off with ladle. Always about some precious dinner flurried. Was ever cook so wonderfully worried? Bother the dinner. Drat the kitchen shelves. Why shouldn't dinners go and cook themselves? Prepares joint for roasting at fireplace. The blessed fire is half of it poked out. Now the whole log I'll have to go no doubt. Brings log to hearth which now brightens up. Expect it to wake early and work late. We are up and stirring long before the great. Stirring wood, etc. Enter Whittington followed by Fitz Warren with his ledger. After your duties you had better look. This is our kitchen and that is our cook. Whittington makes a profound bow, disdainfully responded to by cook. Good Mistress Dorothy, this is the boy I took this morning into my employ. Yes, Mum, please try me. I'll clean cups and cans, wash up the dishes, polish pots and pans, run messages. Oh, won't I quickly run? Do errands. Oh, how well they shall be done. A sort of odd boy, he'll most useful be. An old boy, very odd I plainly see. Answer me now, no nonsense but be quick. Your name is? Whittington. Your short name? Dick. Then Dick, sit down and give that joint a turn. I'll cut your ears off if you let it burn, while I some good hard dumplings make with suet. Beats Dick with ladle. Ow, this fire don't want to blow my arm yet. I'll do it. Dick on three-legged stool at fireplace turning joint. Cook rolls out tub-labelled flower tub, and gets materials for dumplings from larder, chopping suet, etc. etc. Fitzwarren busies himself with his ledger. So little to receive, so much to pay. Things in the city don't look well today. May 1, year 1393. Yeah, there should be an entry. Let me see. Cat slyly enters at window, unobserved by all but Dick, who exchanges salutations. Cat finds a place of concealment under the flower tub. Comic business. Cat and Fitzwarren. Enter Alice rapidly with hose. Oh, Pa, you're wanted in the shop. Pa, please. A gentleman requires some things like these. Unfolds role showing very large stockings of the period. That charming form. And what a face to match it. Come, turn Dick Whittington, or else you'll catch it. That's a large order, girl. We must attend to it. Go take down his address and say we'll send to it. Love making of Whittington and Alice. Cook with rolling pin. My love, I must dissemble. I mustn't speak a word. Just look on this and tremble. My warnings, you have heard. This customer who wants me ought many things to buy. I hope he won't be putting on a dozen pairs to try. Not before Pa, dear. Not before Pa. Show that you love me, but not before Pa. Not before Pa, dear. Not before Pa. I don't mind your winking, but not before. Below Pa, dear. Shares below Pa. Long I'm afraid love will stay as they ought. Before Pa, dear. Not before Pa. Will they be worth anything particular? Bewitching maid, I on those looks could feast day after day, week after week at least. But now you have gone some hungry pangs begin. I feel an awful emptiness within. A crust of bread, Mum, would you be so good? It's many hours since I tasted food. Not bit nor sup until your work be done. My pots and pans want scrubbing every one. Come curfew time, I'll see about your wishes. Now you must scrape the trenches, wash their dishes. There, draught the dumplings. What a time they take. But underneath the meat they'll nicely bake. During this, Cat has gone to cupboard and selected eatables from larder, pie, ham, beef, etc. and put them into flower tub, rolled by Cat towards Whittington, turning the spit while Whittington eats the repast so provided. Cat, having got a loaf for Whittington, conceals himself while Cook places dumplings in embers beneath joint, Whittington being just in time to resume his old position at the hearth. Now, dinner to prepare. I mean to have my share. But you, you lady vagabond, will not get any there. Upon a good large plate, the dumplings bring me straight. Two meals a day for errant boys and those at six and eight. Six and eight, six and eight, six and eight. That's quite enough, that's any rate. So I will have some time to wait when Bobo's time for six and eight. I've had enough at any rate to last me if I have to wait till Bobo's time for six and eight. To close of air fits Warren and Alice return. Business improving, useless naves discharged. My hopes of profit now become enlarged. If fate will have me, Mayor of London, let it. Turns impatiently to large hourglass. How long will dinner be before we get it? Mary, come up and go mercy if eggs. You get fresh hands and work them off their legs. Yes, Pa, to do much more Cook is on table. You'll want a nice young man to wait at table. You have asked some city friends, you know, to dine. How nicely he will hand the cakes and wine. Pointing at Whittington. Well, about dinner. There, it's nearly done. Finds Whittington, thanking Alice. Drat, you young violet. There, take that for one. Gives blow. I won't bear this ill usage every day. Even from one I love, I'll run away. So you must leave the place, sir. Where you sat? Cat, seen on stools, spinning joint round. Blessed of those in here, a great Tomcat. Chase after Cat, who demolishes crockery in exit. Which prefer the fields where the air is pure and sweet. The city I had better wonder from. Little cocks and hens with the cattle in the place for me and Tom. Exit Whittington. As Dick goes off, Cat returns and carries off joint, doing more mischief to plates and dishes and running off after his master. Prentices rush in. Making a splash, causing a crash. Off with a dash, all gone to smash. Well I could see here how it would be. The Cat with the dinner departed. General despair and all excellent after Cat, variously armed. End of scene two. Scene three of Whittington and his Cat by E. L. Blanchard. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Holloway with distant view of London by sunset. Bank of Bluebells. Milestone inscribed three miles from standard in Corn Hill. Enter hurriedly from back, Dick Whittington. He looks on the city in the distance, indicating the absence of pursuit and then looks at inscription on Milestone, resting on the stone as he speaks. Oh, what a race! I am out of breath with running. To catch me a pursuer would be cunning. Pursuer, ah puss, who are you with now? Poor Tom, in fancy I can hear thee meow. If you, like me, a tourist's ticket took, we've made quick journeys, managed by a cook, of London's buildings, standing somewhat higher, on this steep hill behold the lofty spire. Why take this three miles run? For answer this is his. Three miles are quite as good as three such misses is. Rises and comes to front. Not in sooth an ill-behaved youth, in fact I'm a squire's son, but never did one feel blow severe as poor Dick Whittington. For cacostern and never would on me kind as Vista. I had to run, but she served me so. But why, low spirits, better I should try get, for isn't Holloway the way to hide it? The twilight deepens and the sun has sank, suggestive hour of Holloway to the bank. Upon this bank of bluebells I'll repose. My favourites make them up while here I doze. Whittington rests on bank and the fairy bluebell appears. Lights down. Behold the fairy bluebell! Bells, you know, are always sounded when attached to bow. In field and garden, hedgerow bank and bower, listeners would find a voice in every flower. Dream on, good youth, of honours great in store. Chosen Lord Mayor of London three times hour. List to the bells that call thee back to town, where fame, Sir Richard Whittington, shall crown. Bluebell Elves appear, evolutions of the elves, the corals strain, turn again Whittington, thrice Lord Mayor of London, group and picture formed. Thus to good boys do fairies give a prize, Dick Whittington to fame and fortune rise. Whittington awakes, fairy bluebell and elves disappear. Whittington advances to front. Thrice Mayor of London, did I hear a right? Though bells I thank thee, I return to night. Friends of our childhood, the voices with no meaning up the hill, and rings Tom Proof's faithful still. At rushes in with meat placed at Whittington's disposal with great demonstrations of delight. Very kind with this to treat me. You thought me hungry, so you came to meet me. Yet much I fear, ah, puss, you can't deny it. You didn't, Thomas, honestly come by it. Cat owns the soft impeachment. Here's sound of footsteps, becomes alarmed. They have traced you to this place as I've suspected. Well, stand by me, and you shall be protected. Enter Fitzwarren with grotesque hat, thick mantle and large lantern upon staff, followed by cook out of breath, armed with large toasting fork, and equipped for night expedition according to the period with city prentices for an escort. I've found you, have I. Oh, let me get at him. There, that's the cat who stole the vitals, get at him. Who ran off with my dinner, eh? And this is all remaining of it now. I was going to be so saving, too. Thus brought, your joint sir has gone further than you thought. Ha, ha, I like thy jest, but curse the cat. I don't like meat gone quite so far as that. Enter Alice with hood and mantle on. I have a great mind. You have indeed, I'll know it. So having such a great mind, Pa, please show it. Make withington the foreman in your shop, and let the cat return with him and stop. Give me a trial, sir. For that sweet look, I'd bear the worst of usage from the cook. It aren't my fault. Rows isn't my desire, but cooks get hot in temper through their fire. All then is settled. I've a ship to load, and you shall help to see my goods bestowed. Off in the morning goes that ship to sea. Come back, and you, my clerk in charge, shall be. We represent the members of the golden ancient vans To make a sea of precious light. Talk about your old man's walk. We quickly move on summer night To dance about the streets. The left foot first, the right foot follow The hill down mighty hard. Up and down to London town, Dance as the land and guard. Counting house near the Thames. Shipping in the river seen through window. Apprentices bring on large office desk and high office stool. Enter Fitzwarren and Whittington. Come, muscle lads, there's plenty to be done. Send off the bales. We'll take them one by one. All must assist. Apprentices go off. Here, Whittington, my lad, you won't upon that office stool look bad. Purch yourself there. You write a good round hand. Make out the invoice, Dick, you understand. Whittington seats himself at desk in centre. Begin. Fitzwarren to all places trading here signs and seals this as his bill of lading to all concerned. Mind, put that down in toto. I'm not quite certain where we're going to go to. To all? Concerned. I have that down quite plain. What, all? All. All. Well, put down all again. All includes everybody there, you see. You can't in business to particularly be. Two hundred dozen of best English hats. Six hundred gross of boxes of cravat. Six thousand night caps best we can produce. A million shirts for ordinary use. Twelve million stockings warranted to last. Stop, I say, Governor, you get on so fast. Writing. Six thousand night caps. But why send all there? My goods are warranted for anywhere. Does he suspect I'm selling off my shop in case stern creditor should on me drop? He don't suspect, or if he did, I think he wouldn't be so careful of the ink. Twelve million stockings. What a lot to don. Oh, aren't you, Governor, putting of them on? Well, now that's done. Twelve million orts, orts, orts. With sixteen thousand bales of various sorts. Whittington jumps down and rolls up large bill of lading. All done. And so some other folks will be when they find out my stock is all at sea. Enter captain of ship. Goals must be put on board, sir, very soon. We are trim for sailing. Tide will serve at noon. Right, skipper. Sharps the word and quick the movement. There seems to be in business an improvement. Fitzwarren gives captain instructions. Packages born across stage by apprentices and porters. Bales variously labelled light goods, heavy goods, per ship Alice, from Fitzwarren, London. Captain directs them off and follows. Enter cat carrying small leaven case labelled shaving tackle. Why, puss, the folks will say to see this stored. You've been a shaving, instead of being a board. Enter Alice. Why all the shop you have emptied, father? Significantly to dick. I've named the ship dear Alice after you, and wanted all the freight I had to spare to make it worthy of the name you bear. I'm even going to send the cat to sea. If Tom goes, then another goes. That's me. If he goes, I go. Both with dick and cat. If you go, I go. There's an end of that. Enter cook. If they go, I go. Won't be left behind. And now I hope we all know our own mind. Whatever befall it seems, then all in the city won't stay behind. Resolved to gold be said, have given us labor in vain. We are having, we are scarred, and by everyone worried, we don't want such cheap bit again. There's a box on the chair, and a hamper on the stair, and we shan't want the street door key. Select prison little rabbits, when you will let my habits, we'll all go with the maid to sea. Each obtains a little band box, or carpet bag for the voyage, and all dance off successively. End of Scene 4 Scene 5 of Whittington and His Cat by E. L. Blanchard This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The Ship at Sea Sailors discovered on deck, all busy stowing away ship's lumber, some mending a sail, some at carpenter's work, bustling the scene of animation. Old English air in quick time, when the stormy winds do blow. The Alice inscribed on ship's boats, etc. Captain advances. A breeze springs up, the water's getting rough. Keeper before the wind lads, luff boys, luff! Steady boys steady, don't you see that thrizer? East and by east, not east, dear hearer. Without. Aye aye sir! The trade wind soon upon our course will tell, oh here's the cat, don't look uncommon well. Captain retires up. The cat enters, visibly disturbed by the motion of the vessel, and expresses his discomforture, their act to the amusement of the sailors. Cat goes to side of vessel. Whittington, Alice, Cook and Fitzwarren, all in seafaring costume, now ascend on deck by hatchway. Fitzwarren being uncomfortably affected by the movement of the ship. Ah, this is jolly. Affecting gaiety. Jolly, right, that's it. Why don't the ship stand still a little bit? Going along like this is quite delightful. I call such goings-on-miss something frightful. Back to cheap side I'd go, if I'd my will. Cheap side, it's inside where I would be still. Cat returns from side. Hello, Tom, what's the matter with my pet? Haven't you got your sea legs, Thomas, yet? Music expressive. Cat vainly endeavours to be cheerful and tries to chase his tail, but finally he and Fitzwarren link themselves arm in arm and steady themselves towards Porthole. Dear Alice, you make smooth the roughest way. Love's glorious sunshine brightens every day. You see, Dick, my cheek, what colour rushes. I do, dear. Kisses her. Oh, how nice. Excuse my blushes. If this is the effect of going to sea, some gentleman will soon get kissing me. Puts herself in the way of temptation among sailors. Cat and Fitzwarren return to centre, feeling better. Folks are ill when first a ship they visit. It's nothing when you're used to it, Thomas, is it? Try unfantly. Meaning, as we give it, right as a- what's it cook, you know? A trivet. Right as a trivet, that's the sort of thing. I shall expect you both to dance and sing. Oh, Mr. Whittington, that was a disheartener. But when we get safe home, mind, you're my partner. Of goods no more you'll want to be retailer. Of course, I really feel now a whole sailor. What cheer, my hearty. Hello, Catohoi, a vest. Billy the Binnacle, my boy, splice the main brace. Unfurl your four-top spanker and bring your figurehead astound to anchor. A lurch brings both Cat and Fitzwarren into a sitting position on deck. You are quite a jolly tar, an old sea dog. Ah, bless your oldly scuppers. Let's have grog. Rises with Cat as eight bells strike. Eight bells, the starboard watch is set for night. That's suppertime. Your watch is set quite right. Here, pipe all hands to grog. Dear eyes, the sight of it. Missons and marling spikes will make a night of it. Grog brought, captain and sailors. Hall in your precious slack, clear decks below. Now pull away, my hearties, you heave-ho. All ready to drink. Stay, there's a toast. Let good old customs be. Sweethearts and wives. It's Saturday night at sea. Sweethearts and wives. Now merry at eight bells. Cat will oblige. A dance in walnut shells. Hornpipe by Cat in walnut shells. Fitzwarren with fiddle. The rest follow in dances. At first, severally, then altogether. At end, captain advances. There's a stiff breeze above the starboard beam. Keep a lookout for squalls. Schools, that would seem your proper duty, Puss. So leave off jigging, and be the first to scramble up the rigging. Cat goes up rigging. He does this sort of thing in best of styles. He's got a custom to it on the tiles. The cat has reached the top. It's my belief he's furling something. Taking in a reef. Wonderful cat. He runs about so fast. Shiver my timbers. Now he's up the mast. How small he lurks. He's great, though, for a speck. Now he slides down and leaps upon the deck. Cat slings himself down and leaps upon deck. He says there's land in sight. They make all taunt and tremorads for the night. Animated business of sailors running up the rigging to see the land, etc. Fitzwarren, Whittington, Alice, Cook and the Cat, who puts on red nightcap, prepare to turn in for the night and descend hatchway. Lights hung on ship, stage dark. Bells are always going on. All things done by bells. Bells proclaim whatever's done. Useful things are bells. When it's dinner time, we know. Always by the bells. When it's time to go below, then we hear the bells. Appearance of the Fairy Bluebell So far in safety is the youth conveyed. Here I must call on other powers for aid. Bright blossoms of the sea. Receive my thanks. Rise from your emerald beds and coral banks. Ye nymphs and mermaids, singing as ye pass. Trimming fair tresses with your comb and glass. Round Whittington, your kind protection fling. Ye bells of ocean by a magic ring. Chance formation of the vessel and grand ballet of marine nymphs. On Tableau scene closes. End of scene five. Scene six of Whittington and His Cat by E. L. Blanchard. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Coast of Zanzibar. Enter Whittington, Alice Cook, Fitzwarren and Cat. Cargo and shipping port. And here we are, after our voyage safe at Zanzibar. And now I have come here with all the lot. Nobody wants a single thing I've got. They will, Pa. Buy and buy. That's very well. If they will buy and buy, I'll sell and sell. I smell some dinner cooking. We may call this place a civilized country after all. Business with Cat. Observe my cat. I do what you're requesting. His tail, I think, is very interesting. He means that somebody approaches, watch him. He looks as if he saw a mouse. He'd… Caught him? Let's go behind the counter. Yeah, I mean tree. Hope they don't deal in articles like me. Let us be retreating. Don't go very far. Each can be repeating. Words of Zanzibar. Find it very easy. Oh, you sound like R. Keep your lips like me. See so and there you are. Oriental music in distance. Cat signifies the approach of the natives and indicates the advance of king and court. Whittington and the rest conceal themselves at side. Music becomes louder and enters sovereign of Zanzibar, preceded by body of Zanzibar guards and ladies of his court. Here will we dine. You have wrought the feast along with you. If not, I should exclaim guards that was wrong of you. You see, I am the mildest monarch out. I have to smile and twist my head about and all my subjects do just what they are bid. If they did not, they'd every one be chid. Chid, that's the custom to which I'm addicted. Chid's the severest punishment inflicted. My pretty puppets who have come so far to feast with him who rules over Zanzibar guessed you the reason why I brought you or some twenty miles to dine by the sea shore. I'll tell you, then you'll know why we've come because my royal palace swarms with... If once they hurt us, no more cosy chats. Because my royal palace swarms with rats! Cat rushes out at the word and Whittington pulls him back by the tail. Rats in my city, rats the country round. Rats in my palace everywhere abound. Rat tails always seem to be in fashion. Rats are the thing that puts me in a passion. Bring forth the scroll, my minister suggest. May rid my nation of this dreadful pest. Guards unroll very large illuminated scroll, thus inscribed. Ten sacks of gold for a good rat destroyer. Whittington advances. There's the reward. And here's one to claim it. I hope I'm not intruding. Pray don't name it. Some friends of mine who may be here of use allow me mighty king to introduce. Whittington brings on Alice Cook and Fitzwarren. The greatest pleasure really feel quite proud. Whittington introduces Cat who has been peeping at wing. I hope my cat may also be allowed. Presents Cat. A cat according to an ancient book is always privileged at a king to look. What a strange animal. Really feel quite sure a sort of thing I never saw before. Cat introduced all round to Salfrin. I am a merchant come to Zanzibar with. Unrolls pattern book engrossed with Cat. Not today, sir, thank you. Self repair. Why don't they hire a good plain cook at least. Illustrious strangers. Will you share our feast. You're heartily welcome to Zanzibar. Give me a grip of your hand. You may out of a bother help a friend with not another. And give him a helping hand. Such a monarch we're proud of saluting. And along pretty well we have got. For this fact there can be no disputing. Here's not what you call a bad lot. Such a monarch they're proud of saluting. And along pretty well they have got. You will see there can be no disputing. I am not what you call a bad lot. Now to our royal banquet, pray don't spare it. Most freely I invite you all to share it. All are seated and the feast is commenced when suddenly the king discovers a rat at his side and other rats appear on table among dishes. These great rats. These great rats. These great rats. See how they run. They see how they run. They eat their own life, running in life. They know their own life, their own life. They know their own life, their own life. These great rats. These great rats. Rats appear running about everywhere to alarm of everybody but cat who watches his opportunity. Cat now all over the place rats disappear. Cat forms picture in front with guards all round. Banquet table got rid of. Hail to great Thomas, king of English cats. All hail your great deliverer from rats. General, congratulations and guards present arms. Let every honor to the cat be done. Sound the drum and trumpet. Fire off every gun. Upon his gracious person each attends. Guards bow. With gorgeous robes provide his noble friends. In grand procession and with royal array we'll celebrate this great, this glorious day. Flourish of trumpets, guard of honor and ladies of court take off Whittington, Alice, Cook and Fitzwarren to be invested with rich garments. Henceforth when boys see anything the matter, be freedoms, war cry, hi, hi, who's your ratter? My guards to such a genius orbit, boobies, invest it with the ardor of the rubies. The cat, already supplied with a rich mantle, kneels and the sovereign of Zanzibar clasps a ruby collar round the neck of Puss. Guards form in line. Ten sacks each labeled gold born across stage. Cat produces large receipt for cat and company. Ten sacks of gold received Whittington. I've a very good mind unto London to go. It's a city most worthy of a whole. And a place that we Africans all ought to know as we all have been long ago told. So should I be wrong in supposing along I could go with you all, I've no doubt. You would kindly take me all the wonders to see that I long have been hearing about. For this I don't think I'm too stout. Of course it is open to doubt. But if you agree, take me over the sea and me leave me, I won't put you off. Whittington fits Warren, Alice and Cook returns splendidly attired. To London, and as ancient legend tells, we meet within the bell free of bow bells. Excellent. End of scene six. Scene seven of Whittington and His Cat by E. L. Blanchard. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Bell Free of Bow Bells. Enter in grand procession after the style of the Lord Mayor's show. Zanzibar guards to clear the way. African prints with barrow painted emerald green, white and gold, labeled meat for the cat. Six milk maids, two and two, bearing milk pails. Each milk pail labeled milk for the cat. Bearers with white wands, marshalling handsomely dressed page, bearing on crimson cushion, handsome collar, inscription on banner above, collar for the cat. A Chinese bearing a large china cream jar on silver salver, labeled cream for the cat. Two cooks bearing large tray, tablecloth on tray and rich tureen, steam from tureen. Attendance with lighted candles on each side and banners inscribed, lights for the cat. Four bearers with handsome basket with blue and white sat in cover lid, banner cradle for the cat. When in centre of stage, one pull of bearer's sends up the head and shoulders of half a dozen kittens. Second pull brings down from bottom of basket richly ornamented pincushion inscribed, welcome little strangers. Great flourish and cat enters magnificently decorated, followed by servants with rat shaped heads, small powdered wigs and cocked hats, and their tails trailing on the ground. Sovereign of Zanzibar, Wittington, Alice, Fitzwarren and Cook now enter, followed by grand palanquin curtains to draw banner comfort for the cat. Curtains drawn, discovery of white cat in bridal dress. Two white cat bridesmaids with wedding favours, a little bit of wedding march. White cat advances affectionately towards Tom, who is overpowered with admiring awe. Dick encourages cat and leads him back to centre, Alice paying the same attention to white cat and procession go off with bridal peel. Fairy Bluebell appears, one who tells Dick Wittington how much he owed Bo Bells. Lord Mayor of London, now he is proclaimed, and citizens are proud to hear him named. Bless you, my children. May your present joys give great encouragement to girls and boys. The Cook and Sovereign United, Fitzwarren joins hands of Alice and Wittington. Here's success to Wittington. All the money. May he long attract the town, bringing a company. See some jokes, come and jump with me. See that you think all our spokes, no bad company. So remember me, for one old- All this all a pleasant sight, good for you, left to write, goes on most pleasantly. Belfrey, you behold, the song is ended and our story told, that Bells have clappers most of you will know. If hands but move, we Bells have power to live. I show you where my sister flowers grow, and waving palms can winter shelter give. Sets clapper in motion. For all things settled quite, we wish you a good night. May Wittington with Londoners forever hear the bell. May happiness abound in the Mayor's nest he has found. And the cat, who is a mouser, prove a muser as well. Transformation, Harlequin Ard, Commences End of Wittington and His Cat, or Harlequin Lord Mayor of London. Grand Comic Christmas Annual, by E. L. Blanchard