Beginning, Section II

Jump to new as of May 5, 1999
Jump to new as of May 17, 1999

Chapter 4 ~ Amen for all Seasonings

Posted on Tuesday, 4 May 1999

(Sound of the clipity clop of horses hooves as the Marx Brother's carriage pulls into Pemberley. Dawkins opens the carriage door and the brothers spill out in a  heap onto the pavement.)

Chico:   Well, dat distance was pretty easy....

Groucho:   Easy, do you call it? That's about 50 miles, as the crows fly by, and at least 70 miles as the Horace Flyby. But it was a pretty boring ride, I'll grant you. No wonder the author decided not to write about it -- it would have put everyone to sleep.

Chico: Yeah, dat was one small schlep for a man, one giant sleep for mankind.

Grouch:   One of these days, Ravioli, one of these days. (slaps his hand with a fist) Zing! Pow! -- to the moon, Ravioli. To the moon!.

Chico:  Hey boss, you got da wrong bit. We not honeymooners.

Groucho:   Yeah, you got me there, pal.

Harpo: (honk honk) (scowls as he rubs his fanny).

Groucho:  Yeah, you're right about that, Oprah. That was a rough ride. (calls out to driver) Dawkins, that was one of the most jarring experiences of my life. Even the door was ajar. Say, you're not one of the original Rough Riders, are you?

Dawkins: I should say not, sir.

Groucho:   You shouldn't, eh? Why, is someone paying you to shut up? Maybe you should just jump into the wild blue yonder of yonder lake. On second thought, maybe you'd better not. You'll just flounder and scare off the other fish.

Chico:   Yeah, den de jig is up and you be in a reel nice pickerel.

Groucho:   Well there definitely appears to be a fine line between fishing for word play and losing your allure.

Chico:   Heh, heh. Dat's always da net result, ain't it, but you gotta throw all the fish back or you get nuttin but stenchy pike.

Groucho:  Okay, boys, we'll scale that fish when we come to it. Listen up -- here's the plan. We'll go into the house, I'll distract the man of the house, and you two abduct Lizzy and put her in the carriage.

Chico:  Yeah, boss, no problem. We behind you all de way, but what do the abbey ducks have to do wid it?.

Harpo: (honk)  (runs up to Pemberley's door and knocks several times with his walking stick. After a few moments the butler appears.)

Groucho:  Aha. There is the man of the house now.

Butler:  I beg your pardon sir, Mr. Darcy is the master of Pemberley. I am Hives, the butler.

Chico:  A butler? You sure? Datsa nice. Okay, I tink I have a butler of beer!

Groucho:   You say your name is Hives, eh? How euphonious, I should have guessed it, for that's certainly one of the euphonious names I've ever heard!

Butler (annoyed):   Really, gentlemen! You have come at a most inopportune time. The master is incommunicado today.

Groucho:    In Communicado, eh? Hmm. That must be at the outskirts of town where my brother-in-law runs Riot. That's the name of his night club -- 'What a Riot'. We'll just have to look into that sometime for ourselves. Step aside, my good man, we have come to see your master.

Butler (huffy):   I beg your pardon, sir. I most certainly am not your good man.

Groucho:  Ha ha! That's a very funny story, Hives, and I would stick to it if I were you, but don't tell it to me now. There might be some traveling salesmen present.

Butler: This is an outrage! Good day, gentlemen!

Groucho:   Outrage? Yes, this certainly is an outrage. We came to see the man of the house, and all we get is a weather report!

(The trio brushes past the butler and runs into the foyer. The butler tries to corral them).

Hives:   Gentlemen! Gentlemen! I'm afraid I must show you the door.

Groucho:  Have no fear, Hives. We took a good look at it as we came in.

Chico (whistling in appreciation as he views the splendor of the foyer): Wow! Dis is some place, eh boss! You tink maybe God live in a house like dis if He got de money?

Groucho: I doubt that He could afford it. Okay, Ravioli and Oprah. You guys check around these rooms for Miss Lizzy while I search for Darcy.

Chico: You want us to go uppa de stairs?

Groucho: You can hardly avoid that, Ravioli. You're bound to find uppity stares wherever you go in this place.

(Chico bounds up the staircase while Harpo sneaks off to the drawing room. Groucho investigates the clacking noise coming from the billiard room. Darcy looks up at him suspiciously.)

Darcy:   Hello. Who are you and what are you doing at Pemberley?

Butler (breathless as he runs into the room):   I'm terribly sorry, sir, but this intruder and two of his cohorts muscled past me.

Groucho:   Rest easy, sir. Horace Flyby, at your service. (bows halfheartedly) We are here on official business -- prenuptial business. My associate, Sir Knightly is here to paint a portrait of your intended, and I must say that you certainly have the best of intentions. Oprah, my other associate, is a tailor and comes to take the measure of some of the other ladies in the party.

Darcy:   But the tailor was here just a few days ago and has concluded that task.

Groucho:  Indeed he did, sir. But a bumbling underling left the shop window ajar, and a herd of moths came in and flew away with the dress. Yes, it was all very dis-dressing, and I'm afraid that now it is all gone with the wind, not that I give a damn....

Darcy:  A herd of moths?

Groucho:  Yeah, you heard me right, a herd of moths. You've heard of moths, haven't you? Say, where did you go to school, anyway? You must have been a terrible pupa!

Darcy (growing perplexed and irritable):   What? And why are you here, sir? You have neglected to tell me.

Groucho:  Oh, I'm here to administer the oral prenuptial exam on behalf of the vicar. I'm afraid that this a requirement for your wedding license. You don't want to get married without a license do you? Why, that would be licentious behavior!

Darcy: An oral exam? I have never heard of such a thing. That is quite preposterous!

Groucho: If you think that now, wait till you hear some of the questions. I got them right out of the latest issue of London's Cosmo. Shall we repair to the library so we can get you out of this fix?

Darcy: Very well, if it is an absolute requirement.

(Darcy leads Groucho to the library and they sit by the table.  Groucho pulls papers from his jacket).

Groucho:  Okay, stop me if  you've heard any of these before -- just answer yes or no as I read the questions. (Clears throat and begins reading quickly) If a man drinks whiskey with bitters, sugar, lemon, cherry and an orange slice, does that make him old-fashioned? And if he can lie on the floor without holding on as he solves calculus problems , is he considered too drunk to derive? If a man speaks to himself in the woods without any women around, is he still wrong? If a man gets lost in thought, should he stop and ask for directions? Is it okay for a man paint the town red if his fuchsia looks bright? Is it legal for a man kiss a girl on a lark, if larks are out of season? And should a man offer a lady a tipparilo? ...

(A loud commotion in the hallway interrupts the proceedings. Darcy investigates with Groucho in tow. They see Harpo chasing Carline down the hall and up the stairs.)

Darcy (confused):   What the hell is going on here?

Groucho:   Oh, that? That's Oprah the tailor just trying to take the miss measure of the woman. Pay him no heed.

Darcy:   But why is he chasing Miss Bingley?

Groucho:  He's just trying to size her up for her flowing gown. You can't expect her to sit still for that, can you?

(Caroline runs up to Darcy, breathing hard)

Caroline:  Darcy. Darcy!  You must save me from these cretins and beggars.

Groucho: Beggars? Did you say beggars? Well that certainly beggars the question, my dear lady! I'll have you know that I am descended from royalty. My great grandfather was none other than King Midas. Yes, the very same King Midas with the golden touch (of course that was before he got into the muffler business). Ah, that was England's golden age. As a matter of fact, everything he touched turned to gold, and he was the happiest of men. Well, at least for a few hours anyway, but then nature called and he took matters into his hands when he went in to water his loo! Talk about being royally flushed! And we won't say anything about his stiff neck...

(A shriek is heard as Lizzy comes running out of the drawing room with Chico, not far behind)

Chico (calling after Lizzy):   Okay, okay, Miss Lizzy. You no have to worry. I promise you like da picsh. We use a extra large big huge jar of Nutella.

Lizzy:   Darcy! You would not believe how that man proposes to paint me!!

Darcy:  Indeed I would find nothing hard to believe at this point. (Stands up in anger) All right, then. That settles it. You frauds have been mayhemming and hawing long enough. (Grabs swords from wall mount and tosses one to Groucho). On guard, monsieur. I challenge you to a duel. (muttering to himself) I shall conquer this!

Groucho (dodging sword):  But I shall not concur to this! You have insulted my honor, sir, and I am shocked that there was any honor left for you to find! As I have no rapier, sir, I shall be forced to rely on my rapier-like wit and challenge you to a battle of wits, even if you do appear to be insufficiently armed for it.

Darcy:  What? A battle of insults? No, I shall administer a physical thrashing, sir. On my word sir, you may depend upon it.

Groucho:  So you want to get physical, do you? Very well, let's get physical, physical. I challenge you to death by dancing! We can dance a pas de duel, and if you make a mistake, we'll make it a faux pas de duel! (grins wickedly) We can dance till the cows come home. On second thought, I'd rather dance with the cows till you come home!

(Suddenly the disembodied sounds of ringside announcers is heard wafting from the balcony)

Stan:   Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to another Austen Celebrity Deathmatch. Today's contestants are none other than the illustrious Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, and the raffish Horace Flyby who lives in Cognito, on the outskirts of town.. This is bound to be an exciting match. The electricity is in the air...

Dan: Wait, Stan. You can't say that. Electricity has not been discovered yet.

Stan:   Right you are, Dan, but the crowd is abuzz over Flyby just the same. Speaking of him, my throat is starting to feel a bit horace. Maybe I'm catching a little colt, but I wish that they would invent microphones soon so I wouldn't have to yell at the top of my lungs to be heard.

Dan:   Yes, Stan, I hear ya. I understand that today's contestants have happy feet, and it's looks like we're headed for a dance-to-the-death marathon. Hey, they shoot Hoarces, don't they?

Stan: You got that right, Dan. It looks like the dance contestants are set to hit the floor. LET'S GET READY TO RRRRUUUUMMMMBBBBAAAAAA!!!!"

Chico:   Joosta minoots. Did somebody say rum? Yah, I could use a tall glass of dat...

Darcy (yelling and waving his hands):   STOP! STOP! STOP THE INSANITY!!

Susan Powter (shotuing from the balcony):  Yes!! Stop the insanity! Eat the right kinds of foods; get rid of the bad fat; and exercise your fat butt buns off!

Chico:   Oy! Who brought in de ugly bald chick? She sound joosta like a one note piano.

Groucho:  Yeah, she's a Baldwin all right.

Darcy:   Stop this nonsense! Hives, clear the gallery. (turns to Groucho) I rarely dance, sir, and I am determined not to make this one of the occasions.

Groucho:  So, afraid to dance, eh, Darcy? What are you --- some kind of CHICKEN?? (flaps elbows while making chicken noises). Bwawk, bwawk, bwawk, bwawk...!!

Harpo (smiling):  (honk honk honk)

Darcy (sniffs in disgust): Ha! Any savage can dance.

Groucho:  Well, they sure can-can dance in gay Paree! But I wouldn't be so outspoken, if I were you. Savages, indeed! You better say that Gingerly, or Fred Astaire will come down the banister and tap toe all over you. Or aren't you a-fred astaires?

Chico (aside to Groucho):   Hey boss. You better watch out. I tink he begin to catch on to you and he getta really mad. Any time now he explode and stomp on you foot and I bet he cracka you toe.

Grouco:  Betty Crocker! Yes, Ravioli, that's brilliant! Do you hear that, Darcy? Betty Crocker! So you refuse to dance, you wallflower; well I challenge you to a bake-off.

Chico:   Ha, ha. He no can back-off from a bake-off.

Darcy (interest suddenly piqued): What? You wish to challenge my culinary skills? I find that eminently suitable! Sir, we are engaged!

Groucho (coyly):  Well, if Lizzy doesn't mind, I certainly can have no objection! Pray tell, when do I get my big fat diamond ring, you big lug?

Caroline (snidely):   Ha! Now you have met your match, Flyby. Darcy has befriended and learned from all the leading chefs of London!

Groucho:   Oooooo. Kippers and bangers. I'm sooooo scared! That is indeed laughable, madam, for I have acquired the gift of haute cuisine from that wunderkind or all wunderkinds: Chef Boy-Ar-Dee!!

Darcy: It is to be a bake-off then. Here are the rules. We shall each prepare a fowl of our choosing and submit the result to Mrs. Reynolds for tasting. She shall select the winner. Is that agreeable?

Groucho:   Perfectly! (makes sweeping motion in direction of the kitchen) Apres vous, garcon...

(Darcy, Lizzy and the three guests go to different parts of the kitchen, where servants stoke fires in the ovens. Darcy and Lizzy work quietly and methodically as the three brothers struggle to prepare their dish. Harpo sits in the corner in a shower of feathers as he plucks the last bit of down from the bird.)

Chico:  All dese feathers make me sleepy, boss. Wake me when you Oprah give you da bird.

Groucho:  Oh no you don't, Ravioli. We need more than one crook if we're going to spoil this brothel. Hmm. Perhaps we should spice up this bird before we toss it in the oven.

Chico (looking through the spice rack):  Hey, here's a spice dat take care of everyting, boss. De Spice Girls told me all about it! (hands box to Groucho gingerly)

Groucho:  Allspice! That's sounds promising indeed. But it would be sage of us to check out what's in the other boxes too.

Chico:  Maybe I gotta too much thyme on my hands and get caraway, but I tink dese looka good too (hands Groucho several other boxes of spices)

Groucho (dumps contents over bird): For once I think you're right, Ravioli, but I was just cumin through the rye for that. This chili will keep the bird from getting too warm. And for good measure, we'll stuff it with some dill, rosemary, tarragon, oregano, cloves and cardamom.

Chico:  Heh, heh. My mom, she playa cards too. What else you got?

Groucho: To make a complete anise out of yourself, Ravioli, we'll throw in some nutmeg and paprika...

Chico: Yeah, my pappy no smell so good neither.

Groucho:  ...and to curry favor, we need to favor curry. So to put everyone out of their misery and saffron, we'll throw in lots of curry with a singe on top.

Chico:  You sure you add enough spice, boss?

Groucho: You may have something there, Ravioli. I'll add a few more pounds to allow for a marjoram of error.

Chico:  Datsa looka real good now boss. Hey, the bird looksa like it start to cook even before you put it in oven!

Groucho: It's almost ready, but we can't leave out the secret ingredients.  (motions Harpo to the cabinet, who then starts throwing bottles of liquor to Groucho and Chico. They douse the bird with brandy, grand mariner, scotch, bourbon, and sherry. )

Groucho: There's that just about does it. Sherry and sherry alike!

Chico: Say, datsa one fine lookin goose.

Groucho:  Yeah, she's ready all right. Oprah, you open the oven and Ravioli will give it the goose.

Harpo (tries to open door, but withdraws and shakes head): (honk honk)

Groucho: Yeah, Oprah. Maybe the oven is a little too hot. Here, use this wooden stick to open the oven door.

(Harpo opens the door and Chico throws the bird at oven and jumps out the way. There is a massive explosion that knocks the brothers to the floor. They are soon covered by the fine debris of bird raining down from the glass ceiling.)

Chico (optimistically): Hey, boss. I tink da bird is done.

Groucho:   Yeah, our goose is cooked alright. Here, help gather up the shards on a plate while I prepare the condo mints.

(A half hour later everyone assembles in the dining hall. Darcy and Lizzy enter first with pheasant under glass, exquisitely prepared and presented.  Harpo follows carrying a platter containing a miniature black coffin containing the remnants of the goose and bread baked in the shape of a person)

Jane (recoiling in horror):   Oh my goodness, Lizzy! Look at that! (points at the bread figure). They have baked that sweet little doughboy from Pillsbury!

Lizzy:  It's just as well, Jane. That Pillsbury doughboy voice on all those commercials is so extremely annoying it could not have happened soon enough for me!

(Mrs. Reynolds appears and greets everyone warmly. She begins by lifting the glass from the pheasant dish to cut off a small portion for tasting)

Mrs. Reynolds (voice a quiver):   Oooooooooo. That is simply the most pleasant pheasant that I have ever had the privilege of eating. But then I have always observed that those who eat well when they are young....

(Groucho, Chico and Harpo interrupt by diving for the pheasant carcass, ripping it between them and devouring it like piranhas, much to the shock of the rest of the assemblage.)

Darcy: What savage country manners!

Caroline:   How disgustingly vulgar!

Groucho:   Not at all, I assure you. This pheasant is as refined as they come. (licks his fingers) Darcy, my compliments to the chef.

Darcy:  Now, Mrs. Reynolds, I am sorry to put you through this, but in all fairness it is required that you partake of their dish as well. (Lifts the cover from the miniature coffin and turns to Groucho).  And what, may I ask, is the name of this dish?

Groucho: This delightful slice of heaven is what we on the continent call the Thunderbird! (A ripple of laughter erupts between the Bingley sisters)

(Darcy retrieves a bit of meat on a plate and gives it to Mrs. Reynolds. She looks at it with a mixture of awe, curiosity, and trepidation. She finally summons the courage to taste a sliver, grabs her throat and promptly passes out).

Darcy: My God, man. You've killed Mrs. Reynolds!

Groucho:  Nonsense. There's nothing but natural ingredients in that dish. Try some yourself, Darcy, or are you --- CHICKEN?  Bwawk, bwawk, bwawk....

(The servants carry Mrs. Reynolds to her room and administer smelling salts, which eventually revive her. Darcy does not take kindly to the insults and glares at Groucho.)

Darcy (confidently):  I am not afraid of you!

Groucho:  And my courage rises with every attempt to intimidate me. Here, try this if you dare! (hands piece of charred goose flesh to Darcy)

(Darcy accepts the challenge, puts it on his tongue, chews and swallows. He smiles in contentment for a few brief moments until smoke begins to escape from his nostrils. A look of terror overcomes him as he rushes out the door and jumps into the pond. The sizzling of the water can be heard all the way to the house. An alarmed Lizzy soon rushes after him.

Darcy (walking up from pond toward the house): Miss Bennet!

Lizzy:  Mr. Darcy! I... I did not expect to see you.

Darcy (shyly): And how are your parents?

Lizzy (impatiently):  Oh, dry up, Darcy. We did that scene already.

Darcy (suddenly regaining his senses):  I'm going to thrash those hooligans within a inch of their short lives...

(Darcy runs back to the house in time to catch Groucho and Chico by the collar as they attempt to flee the house.)

Chico:  Hey, boss. It looksa like de jig is up now. Old Lady Cat sure be mad now.

Darcy:  What? My aunt Catherine sent you here? Whatever for.... (Look of dawning comprehension) Oh, now I'm beginning to see. She means to interfere.... (Releases them and begins thinking aloud). I wonder how much she was paying you to do this piece of treachery....

Chico:  Oh, don't even tink about it. You couldn't afford it!  It was 500 pounds.

Darcy (smiles): Gentlemen. I was going to have you skinned, but you have given me a better idea. I'll double her offer if you follow my plan to the letter.

(They all smile and shake hands. Darcy huddles with Groucho and Chico. Harpo grabs a rugby ball and jumps onto Groucho's back....)

(P&P theme in strong....)

Dum, dittily dum, dittily dum dum dum dum dum dum

Dum, dittily dum, dittily dum dum dum dum dum dum

Dum, dittily dittily dittilty dum ...

Chapter 5 ~ Going Out Over the Top

Posted on Sunday, 16 May 1999

(P&P theme music plays as Groucho arrives at Rosings Park. The servant presents him to Lady Catherine in the drawing room.)

Lady Catherine: Mr. Flyby. It is so good that you have returned at last. You come with favorable news?

Groucho: Good news? I'll be hanged if it's not good noose!

Lady Catherine (smiling): Very well then. What is it that you have to declare?

(Awkward pause after which Groucho gets down on one knee)

Groucho: What do I have to declare, my little turtledove? .... (aside) and I apologize to all the pigeons for such obvious slander. What do I have to declare? Why, nothing but my heart-felt admiration for you, and very little of that! I heart-ly felt it at all! From the moment I met you I've swept you off my feet.

Lady Catherine: Mr. Flyby! Control yourself! What is the matter with you?

Groucho (stands up): Oh, I guess I'm just not myself today. Maybe that's why I'm so crazy about you. (blinks coyly) Say, toots, you have a pretty good head on your shoulders, and I wish it was on mine. How about giving me a lock of your hair? And don't take umbrage at my modest request -- I was going to ask you for the whole wig. Oh, if only we had met 11 years ago when you were 30 years younger.

Lady Catherine: Sir, I don't much like your innuendo. I doubt that you would find me so attractive if I was poor!

Groucho: I might, but I'd keep my mouth shut about it. But what is mere money anyway? You know what they say: money flies out the door when loves comes innuendo!

Lady Catherine: Sir, you have the advantage of me!

Groucho: Not yet, I haven't, but wait until I get you outside.

Lady Catherine (confused): But I fail to see....Sir, you overcome me!

Groucho: All right but remember it was your idea, my shrinking violet. Say, it wouldn't hurt for you to shrink another 30 or 40 pounds!

Lady Catherine: That is a shocking thing to say to a lady! What an impudent cad!

Groucho: I think you're a real hunny too, and I say that in a most German-like manner. Speaking of that, where do you hide the wiener schnitzel? But let's not quarrel about the repast; let's go outside. Say, how about you and me passing out on the veranda, or would you rather pass out here? Or we could for a walk in the garden. We could tiptoe through the tulips or take a strawberry shortcut through the berry patch. That would take the cake...

Lady Catherine: You leave me speechless! I am not accustomed to hearing such talk...

Groucho: Speechless, perhaps, but certainly not thoughtless after I give you a piece of my mind; and peace of mind is something we could all use around here. Marry me and I promise I'll never look at another horse! Trot away with me, my love; I know just where to run to -- Toronto! Or if you're a little thirsty, we can abscond to mini-soda. You'll grow to have a healthy respect for that place, especially if you hold the Mayo; and you know what they say:, a Minneapolis a day keeps the doctor away, .

Lady Catherine: Oh, Mr. Flyby. You are so full of whimsy!

Groucho: Whimsy, eh? I'm always that way after I eat radishes, and that nothing to turnip your nose at. (coughs) Oh, my darling, come live with me in my hamlet -- you can be the prude Danish. My place is in a such an exclusive neighborhood that nobody lives there! Promise to meet me tonight at midnight down by the spreading chestnut tree where yonder smithy smiths. It will be so romantic. I can see it all now: just you and the moon. You wear a dress so I'll know which is you!

Lady Catherine: Mr. Flyby! Enough of this nonsense. I want to know if you come with news of success in your assignment?

Groucho: Always business before pleasure, eh? That's the trouble with the world today, all work and no play. Well I intend to turn things around. But to answer you question, madam, I have indeed seen success. As a matter of fact, I have seen the height of success and someday I intend to reach it!

Lady Catherine: But the wedding! Have you thwarted the wedding between Darcy and the creature? Will my nephew marry Anne?

Groucho: Yes, Catty, you are right on both counts. The morrow will find your daughter in the arms of your nephew, free from Rosings at last. And if she doesn't break out, maybe her face will.

Lady Catherine (excitedly): My dear sir, that is excellent news indeed. You have done your work well.

Groucho: What? You had a doubt? Really, madam, you try my patience! And I'm not even a doctor, although I play one on stage. All you have to do is take Anne to Derbyshire tomorrow and get her to the church on time!

Lady Catherine: She's getting married in the morning! (clasps hands in delight)

Groucho: Ding dong the wedding bells will chime... Well feather and tar me and call out the army! That prospect does sound mighty fair, Lady!

Lady Catherine: That sentiment does you credit, Mr. Flyby.

Groucho: And they say there's no accounting for taste... And speaking of accounting, how about that generous fee you had promised.

Lady Catherine: Yes, yes. Let us not be tedious about such things now. You shall receive it tomorrow after my Anne leaves on her honeymoon.

Groucho: In that case, I just might wake up in time for church too. Till the morrow then, my pet. I would like say how wonderful it has been to see you, but I have only myself to blame. (kisses her hand) Let us not say goodbye, rather let us say, as the French have it, 'je crois que le fromage est fait'.

Lady Catherine: My dear sir, you have such a way with words!

Groucho (coyly): Well, I think you are kind of cheesy, myself.

(Musical interlude as Groucho exits)

(A crowd of reporters congregates in front of the church near Pemberley to interview guests as they enter for the wedding)

Joan Rivers: Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of Eh! -- Canada's premier entertainment network, eh? -- my daughter Melissa and I welcome you to the social event of the year: Mr. Darcy's marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and his friend Mr. Bingley's marriage to her sister Jane.

Melissa: Yes, mom, everyone is so excited, especially now that there is a whiff of scandal in the air. Rumor has it that Darcy is not going to wed Miss Elizabeth Bennet as previously announced, but will marry his first cousin Anne de Bourgh of Rosings Park instead!

Joan: Wow! That is a shocker! Does anyone know how that rumor got started?

Melissa: Apparently the girl's mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has been writing letters to all her family and friends to announce the renewal of her daughter's engagement to Mr. Darcy. Friends say that the lady is just beside herself in anticipation.

Joan: Well, Melissa, we should find out if the rumor is true in a few minutes when the wedding party takes its place by the altar.

Melissa: But that's not the only news, mom. I've heard that a third couple will be also be wed this afternoon.

Joan: A third couple? At the last minute? Wow! Who are they?

Melissa: Nobody knows for sure. It seems Mr. Darcy is keeping it a secret to prolong the suspense.

Joan: That is soooo wonderful! I can hardly wait to see what happens.

Melissa: Some of the wedding guests are starting to arrive. Oh! There are the parents. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, can you talk with us for a moment please?

Joan: That is a lovely gown you are wearing, Mrs. Bennet. The rhinestone muumuu does your figure much credit!

Mrs. Bennet: Ooooooo! Thank you. I am so giddy I fear I shall not be able to contain myself. My poor nerves! This cannot be happening to me. To think that two of my daughters will so advantageously wed! Did you hear that they will have15 thousand a year between them! That is rich indeed!

Joan: Then you give no credence to the rumor that Mr. Darcy is marrying his cousin Anne?

Mrs. Bennet: I did not hear that! I won't hear that? Why should that be?

Joan: Lady Catherine has been telling that to all of her friends.

Mrs. Bennet: I am indeed surprised to learn that she has any friends left! What an horrid excuse for a civilized being! But if what you say were true, my Lizzy would have told me. We are very close, you know!

Mr. Bennet: Come, my dear. Your tale has grown quite long enough; let us not wait for your nose to grow likewise..

Joan: Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. (turns to Melissa) Who is that in the barouche box?

Melissa: It looks like Mr. and Mrs. Collins alighting from the carriage, followed by Lady Catherine and her daughter Anne.

(Collins stumbles out of the carriage and bumps into Melissa)

Joan: This way, Mr. Collins. That is a very interesting bandy-legged outfit you have on. Who designed it?

Mr. Collins (raises head proudly): I am happy to report that this wonderful habiliment was designed by none other than my noble patroness -- Lady Catherine de Bourgh. (unbuttons his vest) You can see the lovely needlework on the interior of my waistcoat. And notice that the sleeves of my shirt connect directly to the corset that is normally hidden by my waistcoat. By dispensing with the body of the shirt, the cooling effect in summertime is quite remarkable. Evidently, her ladyship condescended to provide amelioration for my unfortunate facile tendency towards perspiration.

Joan: Sleeves on the corset -- happy thought indeed! And speaking of the spinning spinster, here comes her ladyship. Lady Catherine! Lady Catherine!

Lady Catherine: What is that you want, madam, and why are sticking that thing in my face?

Joan: Good afternoon, your ladyship. What a lovely hat you are wearing! That dead bird is an elegant touch! A mockingbird, isn't it?

Lady Catherine (icily): No, it is a titwillow. (Duck flies overhead and drops a hundred pound note).

Groucho: Congratulations. You have just said the secret word!

Joan: Say, we've heard rumors that Darcy is jilting Elizabeth in favor of your daughter. Is that true?

Lady Catherine: Indeed it is. I have that information on the very best authority. Mr. Horace Flyby himself has told me that at the conclusion of his investigation?

Joan: You learned that from a dick? What does your daughter say?

Lady Catherine (annoyed): Anne? Oh she never says anything when I'm around. She is excessively shy you know!

(Lady Catherine escorts Anne, who smiles weakly, into the rapidly filling Church. A perturbed vicar's assistant and other staff members run over to Groucho in the Annex)

Vicar's Assistant: My dear sir. The vicar is nowhere to be found and it is already past the hour when the ceremony is to begin? What are we to do?

Groucho: Keep your dresses on, gentlemen. We'll get to the bottom of this. One of you guys check the basement to see how low the vicar stoop to get out of this mess. And one of guys check upstairs, and if he's not in the dreadful attic for some Purvis reason, check the storage areas. Maybe he'll get brave and decide to step of the cloister. Or maybe you'll find him in the dormitory with the rest of the lay people. While you take care I'll warm up the crowd and stall for time.

(Scramble of footsteps are heard as the assistants disperse. Groucho walks in stooped-like manner toward the altar)

Groucho: Greetings, Ladies and Gentlemen. I would like to thank you all for this magnificent washout, er, turnout. Please excuse me for not coming up to speak to you sooner, but I have been so busy not speaking to everyone else that I could not get around to not speaking to you in time.

(Audience members look at each other in puzzled amazement).

Groucho: The vicar has lost his voice and is looking for it backstage, so I have been asked me to present the homily. As this a marital time it I sure most of you are expecting some words about the martial arts. Ha! Instead I would like to speak on the subject of love and marriage which, as everyone knows, go together like at a horse and carriage. Aye, there's the hitch! Marriage! ... But marriage isn't a word -- it's a sentence! Or a pair of gaffs at least. Some among you say that marriage is also a wonderful institution; but I ask you, who wants to live in an institution? ... Ah marriage! I remember when I first met my wife. It was on a ferry boat, but when we landed she gave me the slip. We were later married by a judge; that was my first mistake -- I should have asked for a jury. ... Marriage is such an educational experience -- it certainly has taught me a lot. I now know that behind every successful man is a woman, and behind her is his wife. ... On the downside, did you know that marriage is the chief cause of divorce? And what has love got to do with it? ... Love, ah, sweet love! (clasps hands and blinks rapidly). Love makes fools of us all! In my youth, I gave my lover dark chocolates and purple flowers. I was violet-ly in love with her. That's when I learned that the ruse of the game -- although love may be a game, it is never called on account of darkness. ... I sang to my lover. I read her poetry. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love! And why do we keep falling in love? I know! It's because love is the pits! And money can't buy you love either, although it certainly does put you in an excellent bargaining position. ... (raises hand in gesture of a toast) Well, here's to our wives and our lovers -- may they never meet! Those are my principles. If you don't like them, I have others, not that I cannot say I do not disagree with you....

Chico (walks up to Groucho): At's awright, boss. We find de vicky.

Groucho: Oh really, Ravioli? Where the heck have you been? We have exhausted all our resources looking for you!

Chico: Atso too bad. Race horses don't run very fast when dey exhausted. But we find vicky playing poker in Lambton with a card shark.

Groucho: A card shark, eh? Am I allowed three guesses and a blindfold?

Chico: Yeah, the card shark is me! Heh, heh. I flush him good for you!

Groucho: Well at least you came here directly in your strong suit. You really should get that laundered one of these years.

Chico: Yeah, I go down to the Helpee-Selfee Laundromat after lunch.

Groucho (turning toward crowd): Well folks, your gala day has arrived, and I don't know about you, but a gal a day is as much as I can handle. So without further ado, I bid you adieu. (motioning toward vicar) Take it away professor....

(The parson and the wedding party assemble by the altar. Groucho walks up and down the aisle in search of Lady Catherine and finally finds her)

Groucho: Ha, Lady Cat! Thought you could hide from your ole Flyby, eh? Ha, you have to get up pretty early in the morning to fool around with me. I do my best undercover work in bed! I suppose you expect me to make sort of blanket statement now, but I refuse! You haven't paid me yet and I can't afford the cover charge.

Lady Catherine (whispering): Be quiet, you fool! Can't you see the ceremony is about to begin? Oh how I wish the wedding couples were facing us -- the young ladies are all wearing similar gowns and I can't make out my Anne from here.

Groucho: Well, I'll be upfront and make out with Anne myself!

Lady Catherine: This is so vexing. That lady sitting in front of us makes it nearly impossible for me to witness the proceedings. (pokes woman with her cane). Madam. your hair is piled up so grotesquely high that my vision is blocked completely. Please remove yourself to a more convenient section of the sanctuary.

Patsy Stone: Eeeek! Eddie, help! I'm being attacked by that barbarian harpy! Look how she has messed up my hair. It took hours to make me look this absolutely fabulous!

Edina Monsoon: I saw it, Patsy! I saw the bag lady hit assault you with her cane. Call the police. Call the lawyers. We'll make her pay!

Patsy: Saffy, I thought you said that these people had civilized manners! And to think you dragged us here just because you made some stupid promise to your friend Lydia.

Saffy: But she is my soul-mate!

Edina: We had to come here, Patsy. You know how hard it is for sweetie darling to make decent friends.

Saffron: Mum. Put your bottle of vodka away. You promised to behave yourself. You two are making such a scene -- this is positively mortifying! Let's just move across the aisle and not make such a fuss.

Edina: That's just like you, Saffy, isn't it? Always thinking of yourself! Your mother and her best friend mean absolutely nothing to you, then! You would be happy just to let this old hag run ragged all over us! We'll I didn't come all the down here from London just be insulted by some unsavory twit!

Groucho: Pardon me, ladies, and I use that word very loosely on occasion and they don't come much looser than this. I know you didn't come here to be insulted, but I know the perfect place. There is a lovely watering hole separated from us only by a lane. We can go there and drown both of my troubles.

Saffy: Yes, mum and Pasty. Go, go! I would not have you back again.

Groucho: Okay, miss. I'll be happy to escort these two lovely go go girls....

Patsy: Oh, that's sounds like a positively smashing idea; I could use a little liquid lunch. Who wants to go to a stupid wedding anyway! I've had more fun at the bureaucrat's funeral.

Edwina (staggering out of the pew): You can shay that again, Pats!

Chico: Hey, boss. Wait for me. I like to wet my wassail too!

Groucho: In that case, Ravioli, you lead these lushes to the watering hole across the street. I'll join you later when things fall apart..

Harpo: (honk honk honk)

Groucho: Okay, Oprah. You take the fat one.

Lady Catherine: Yes, by all means take these tramps away. I have scarcely seen ladies so thoroughly meretricious.

Chico: Hey, meretricious to you too, lady, and a happy new year!

(Groucho walks up the aisle with a swaying debauchery on either arm. The parson motions the crowd to be quiet).

Michael Palin: Wadies! Gentowmen! Siwence pwease! (pauses) Wet us begin the cewemony.

(The congregation stops buzzing and sits down)

Palin: Deawy bewoved. We aw gathewed hewe to witness the mawwiage between these thwee happy coupoos.

(Crowd sniggers)

Palin: And what aw you sniggewing at? Did I wead something wong? (clears throat) Now mawwiage is nobuw awangement...

(The parson drones through the liturgy with the crowd becoming increasingly sleepy until he gets to the interesting part...)

Palin: ...and so mawwiage was cweated fow the pwopagation of chiwdwen and to pwevent cawnaw wusts.

(The audience perks up. The parson looks up from his book and turns his attention to the couples)

Palin: And now do you, Chawles, take Jane, and do you, Jane, take Chawles?

Jane and Charles: Yes.

Mrs. Bennet (squealing in delight): Ooooo. My Jane is so lovely a bride, is she not, and five thousand a year!

Palin: And do you, Dawcy, take Ewizabeth, and do you, Ewizabeth, take Dawcy?

Lizzy and Darcy (enthusiastically): We do!

Lady Catherine: Ack! Noooooooooooo! Darcy is not supposed to marry that creature! Who is responsible for this treachery? What about my Anne? Who is she standing with? Is that Colonel Fitzwilliam?

Groucho: Yes indeedee! I told you Anne would marry her cousin, didn't I?

Lady Catherine: Her cousin yes, but I meant her cousin Darcy, not the Colonel! I am most seriously displeased. Why must my Anne marry someone so beneath her?

Groucho: Well someone has to protect the Colonel from clutches of Rachel and Lise!

Palin (glares at the audience): Siwence!! (waits for commotion to die down) And do you, Colonel Fitzwiwwiam, take Anne, and do you, Anne, take the Colonel?

Colonel Fitzwilliam: Indeed I do, sir!

Palin: And what about you, wady Anne?

Anne (quite PO'd): I'm like fer sure, man.

Palin: Methinks the widdiw wady is a widdiw bit angwy.

Anne: Yeah, fer sure I'm like so mad! That bloody pipping video was like 6 hours long, and like, how many lines do you think I got to say? Zippola! That is such a bummer!

Palin: Nevewthewess, I pwonounce all of you happiwy mawwied! Congwatuwations! Gawd bwess us evweyone!

(The happy couples kiss and run toward the waiting carriages. The Colonel and Anne leave first, closely followed by Charles and Jane, and then Darcy and Lizzy)

Darcy (trying to smile for the first time in his life): Ouch! I think I just broke my cheeks.

(Darcy leans over to give Lizzy with a kiss, but can't quite figure out where to place his nose).

Lizzy: Oh, dear. We really should have taken the trouble of practicing...

(Darcy looks over to Bingley's carriage for inspiration, and after a few more false starts, finally achieves a modicum of success).

Darcy: My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth...

Lizzy (shivering): Brrrrrr! Darcy, why is the top down on this carriage? Look at all the snow; it's winter, for crying out loud! Get me out of here and into a warm bed. Can't you see my gratuitously heaving breasts are freezing?!

(Upon Darcy's direction, the driver picks up the pace. Groucho arches his eyebrows as the carriage pulls away)

Groucho: I've had a perfectly wonderful time, but this wasn't it! (Lights cigar and walks toward the bar to join Chico and Harpo and the girls)

(P&P fortepiano theme music in strong)

Dum, dittily dum, dittily dum dum dum dum dum dum

Dum, dittily dum, dittily dum dum dum dum dum dum

Dum, dittily dittily dittilty dum ...

(lush strings enter...)

La la la la la, la la la laaaaaaaa

(louder)

LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LA, LA LA LA LAAAAAA

The End.

Rest in peace Chico, Groucho, and Harpo.
Your irreverent films have made this world an insanely better place. Cheers!

Bill