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the moonlight flies；
And inky clouds； like funeral shrouds； sail over the midnight
skies
When the footpads quail at the night…bird's wail； and black dogs
bay at the moon；
Then is the spectres' holidaythen is the ghosts' high…noon！
CHORUS。 Ha！ ha！
Then is the ghosts' high…noon！
As the sob of the breeze sweeps over the trees； and the mists lie
low on the fen；
From grey tomb…stones are gathered the bones that once were women
and men；
And away they go； with a mop and a mow； to the revel that ends
too soon；
For cockcrow limits our holidaythe dead of the night's
high…noon！
CHORUS。 Ha！ ha！
The dead of the night's high…noon！
And then each ghost with his ladye…toast to their churchyard beds
takes flight；
With a kiss； perhaps； on her lantern chaps； and a grisly grim
〃good…night〃；
Till the welcome knell of the midnight bell rings forth its
jolliest tune；
And ushers in our next high holidaythe dead of the night's
high…noon！
CHORUS。 Ha！ ha！
The dead of the night's high…noon！
Ha！ ha！ ha！ ha！
ROB。 I recognize you nowyou are the picture that hangs at
the end of the gallery。
SIR ROD。 In a bad light。 I am。
ROB。 Are you considered a good likeness？
SIR ROD。 Pretty well。 Flattering。
ROB。 Because as a work of art you are poor。
SIR ROD。 I am crude in colour； but I have only been painted
ten years。 In a couple of centuries I shall be an Old Master；
and then you will be sorry you spoke lightly of me。
ROB。 And may I ask why you have left your frames？
SIR ROD。 It is our duty to see that our successors commit
their daily crimes in a conscientious and workmanlike fashion。
It is our duty to remind you that you are evading the conditions
under which you are permitted to exist。
ROB。 Really； I don't know what you'd have。 I've only been
a bad baronet a week； and I've committed a crime punctually every
day。
SIR ROD。 Let us inquire into this。 Monday？
ROB。 Monday was a Bank Holiday。
SIR ROD。 True。 Tuesday？
ROB。 On Tuesday I made a false income…tax return。
ALL。 Ha！ ha！
1ST GHOST。 That's nothing。
2ND GHOST。 Nothing at all。
3RD GHOST。 Everybody does that。
4TH GHOST。 It's expected of you。
SIR ROD。 Wednesday？
ROB。 （melodramatically）。 On Wednesday I forged a will。
SIR ROD。 Whose will？
ROB。 My own。
SIR ROD。 My good sir； you can't forge your own will！
ROB。 Can't I； though！ I like that！ I did！ Besides； if a
man can't forge his own will； whose will can he forge？
1ST GHOST。 There's something in that。
2ND GHOST。 Yes； it seems reasonable。
3RD GHOST。 At first sight it does。
4TH GHOST。 Fallacy somewhere； I fancy！
ROB。 A man can do what he likes with his own！
SIR ROD。 I suppose he can。
ROB。 Well； then； he can forge his own will； stoopid！ On
Thursday I shot a fox。
1ST GHOST。 Hear； hear！
SIR ROD。 That's better （addressing Ghosts）。 Pass the fox；
I think？ （They assent。） Yes； pass the fox。 Friday？
ROB。 On Friday I forged a cheque。
SIR ROD。 Whose cheque？
ROB。 Old Adam's。
SIR ROD。 But Old Adam hasn't a banker。
ROB。 I didn't say I forged his bankerI said I forged his
cheque。 On Saturday I disinherited my only son。
SIR ROD。 But you haven't got a son。
ROB。 Nonot yet。 I disinherited him in advance； to save
time。 You seeby this arrangementhe'll be born ready
disinherited。
SIR ROD。 I see。 But I don't think you can do that。
ROB。 My good sir； if I can't disinherit my own unborn son；
whose unborn son can I disinherit？
SIR ROD。 Humph！ These arguments sound very well； but I
can't help thinking that； if they were reduced to syllogistic
form； they wouldn't hold water。 Now quite understand us。 We are
foggy； but we don't permit our fogginess to be presumed upon。
Unless you undertake towell； suppose we say； carry off a lady？
（Addressing Ghosts。） Those who are in favour of his carrying off
a lady？ （All hold up their hands except a Bishop。） Those of the
contrary opinion？ （Bishop holds up his hands。） Oh； you're never
satisfied！ Yes； unless you undertake to carry off a lady at
onceI don't care what ladyany ladychoose your ladyyou
perish in inconceivable agonies。
ROB。 Carry off a lady？ Certainly not； on any account。
I've the greatest respect for ladies； and I wouldn't do anything
of the kind for worlds！ No； no。 I'm not that kind of baronet； I
assure you！ If that's all you've got to say； you'd better go
back to your frames。
SIR ROD。 Very goodthen let the agonies commence。
（Ghosts make passes。 Robin begins to writhe in agony。）
ROB。 Oh！ Oh！ Don't do that！ I can't stand it！
SIR ROD。 Painful； isn't it？ It gets worse by degrees。
ROB。 OhOh！ Stop a bit！ Stop it； will you？ I want to
speak。
（Sir Roderic makes signs to Ghosts； who resume their attitudes。）
SIR ROD。 Better？
ROB。 Yesbetter now！ Whew！
SIR ROD。 Well； do you consent？
ROB。 But it's such an ungentlemanly thing to do！
SIR ROD。 As you please。 （To Ghosts。） Carry on！
ROB。 StopI can't stand it！ I agree！ I promise！ It
shall be done！
SIR ROD。 To…day？
ROB。 To…day！
SIR ROD。 At once？
ROB。 At once！ I retract！ I apologize！ I had no idea it
was anything like that！
CHORUS。
He yields！ He answers to our call！
We do not ask for more。
A sturdy fellow； after all；
This latest Ruddigore！
All perish in unheard…of woe
Who dare our wills defy；
We want your pardon； ere we go；
For having agonized you so
So pardon us
So pardon us
So pardon us
Or die！
ROB。 I pardon you！
I pardon you！
ALL。 He pardons us…
Hurrah！
（The Ghosts return to their frames。）
CHORUS。 Painted emblems of a race；
All accurst in days of yore；
Each to his accustomed place
Steps unwillingly once more！
（By this time the Ghosts have changed to pictures again。 Robin
is overcome by emotion。）
（Enter Adam。）
ADAM。 My poor master； you are not well
ROB。 Old Adam； it won't doI've seen 'emall my
ancestorsthey're just gone。 They say that I must do something
desperate at once； or perish in horrible agonies。 Gogo to
yonder villagecarry off a maidenbring her here at onceany
oneI don't care which
ADAM。 But
ROB。 Not a word； but obey！ Fly！
（Exeunt Adam）
RECIT。 and SONGROBIN。
Away； Remorse！
Compunction； hence！。
Go； Moral Force！
Go； Penitence！
To Virtue's plea
A long farewell
Propriety；
I ring your knell！
Come； guiltiness of deadliest hue！
Come； desperate deeds of derring…do！
Henceforth all the crimes that I find in the Times。
I've promised to perpetrate daily；
To…morrow I start with a petrified heart；
On a regular course of Old Bailey。
There's confidence tricking； bad coin； pocket…picking；
And several other disgraces
There's postage…stamp prigging； and then thimble…rigging；
The three…card delusion at races！
Oh！ A baronet's rank is exceedingly nice；
But the title's uncommonly dear at the price！
Ye well…to…do squires； who live in the shires；
Where petty distinctions are vital；
Who found Athenaeums and local museums；
With a view to a baronet's title
Ye butchers and bakers and candlestick makers
Who sneer at all things that are tradey
Whose middle…class lives are embarrassed by wives
Who long to parade as 〃My Lady〃；
Oh！ allow me to offer a word of advice；
The title's uncommonly dear at the price！
Ye supple M。P。's who go down on your knees；
Your precious identity sinking；
And vote black or white as your leaders indite
（Which saves you the trouble of thinking）；
For your country's good fame； her repute； or her shame；
You don't care the snuff of a candle
But you're paid for your game when you're told that your name
Will be graced by a baronet's handle
Oh！ Allow me to give you a word of advice
The title's uncommonly dear at the price！