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You

You

Are air to the throne

You have no right to treat my life's work with so little respect

Have you nothing but contempt for your heritage?

My dear father forgive me

I owe you ideas

I hold you in the highest esteem, I swear it

I am your son

That doesn't answer my question

Why do you lead such a frivolous life?

Why do you engage in a scandalous affair with this married prima donor?

All right, it is better that I tell you everything

I love her

I do

I have loving her

She's my constant and faithful friend she means everything to me

Oh my dear father don't you know what it is to love?

Have you never experienced it?

Fill it my son

Forgive me

I know she's a great artist

And I'm sure she's a woman of noble character

As a matter of fact I would dearly like to meet her myself

And to hear her sing

But you must never see her again

You are to marry Dorothea

Daughter of Archidog Joseph of Austria-Hungary

It is all arranged

Fill it

I'm a dying man

I want a near without blemish

I want grandchildren worthy of the royal house of France

It's hopeless

I feel as if something very precious

Very sacred

It is being destroyed

People are pressing in on us from all sides

Tearing us apart

What is there left for us?

Nothing

No

Now how love can never die

Wherever you are for the rest of your life I shall be very in your heart

How can I tell you the tender emotion I feel?

Listen to me, my dear one

I have a house on a lake

It's very beautiful here

We'll go, we'll just you and I together

When?

No, tonight

silky

Hello

song

She makes you go get resilience

Oh my god!

me

this is real

No

But not only I

f

ha

I am the dictator Louis, an advisor to the country.

Yes.

The court is gravely ill.

His last wishes to record Philip to his duty as a son of France.

Philip knows that your duty madame.

Yes.

The French people love you as they love no other foreign singer.

You are the foremost interpreter of gunur, massené, tamas, assas.

Artistically you are now a daughter of France yourself.

And now your career is on the brink of disaster.

In marriage has been arranged for Philip

and the political value of that marriage is already endangered.

But a scandival of wind and horse.

I am to give him up.

Yes.

Yes.

Your husband will top his divorce proceedings if you end this affair.

I am the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the only one who is the

only one

Ind Feminist Dance World Programgame

Keep you down.

Keep you down.

Where's George?

Where is my son?

Where is he?

America.

His father has taken him to America.

There are arms trongs in Virginia.

My little boy.

I'm sorry, Nelly.

I'm so sorry.

Charles has treated you with great cruelty.

To lose one's son.

He has not lost.

He will never be lost.

Stay here, my dear.

We will do what we can together.

No.

I must go.

What will you do?

I will go on.

And on and on and on and on.

Without a husband.

Without my son.

Without Philippe.

My career was my life.

It held the reins.

I sang throughout Europe.

How I sang.

Treviata, Faust, Hamlet, Aida, Lowengren, Otello.

Twenty operas were in my repertoire.

My debut in Milan.

It caused a sensation.

After the mad scene in the night,

the ovation was said to be the greatest ever heard at La Scala.

In the winter of 1893,

my first visit to New York,

the Metropolitan Opera House,

a triumph.

There did himself listen to me sing Desdemona.

Leon Cavallo asked me to sing Desdemona.

Leon Cavallo asked me to sing the first performances

of Palliarch at Covent Garden and the Metropolitan.

At Luca, I studied Lao M with Puccini.

I introduced it to Covent Garden.

Then to New York,

I sang it with Caruso at Monte Carlo.

Time passed.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years since I had last seen my home.

I wanted to see my father again.

One morning in September 1902, early, early,

I gazed at the shoreline off Morton Bay.

Yes, I thought.

That is my country, Australia.

Australia.

Magnificent.

Vast.

Mysterious.

A sense of excitement tingled through my veins.

I was home at last.

how?

How?

The

and her interviews, she's resting until we're each Sydney.

I was hoping...

And Melbourne's giving five concerts in Melbourne, five in Sydney,

three in Adelaide and Brisbane, one in London.

I know all that, Mr. Miles, bro.

I'd still like to see it.

No, sorry.

The concert's booking well?

Yes, very well.

How much are paying you?

Madam Melbourne's here to see her family, particularly her father.

I hear she earns around £2,000 a week during the London season.

Is she worth it?

The Queen of Song, decorated by the Crown Heads of Europe.

Good Lord Manchies, the most acclaimed singer on Earth.

Well said.

Congratulations on bringing Madam Melbourne home to Australia at last.

Hmm.

Come in.

Excuse me, Madam Melbourne,

but would you please allow me to present to you, Mr. Caravals, of the Melbourne Arts.

How you organise me?

No wonder I call you my bizmark.

16 years.

I've come back to see my dear father, my old friends, my old home.

I can't wait to see all the places I used to know in Melbourne.

And look how.

How wonderful it all looks.

How long?

Look, George, you can't go home.

I was determined to come.

Look, I imagine.

Maurice Grau, the manager of the Metropolitan, was staggered when he heard I was coming to Australia.

He wanted me in New York.

I am so happy to be here.

We've been discussing this visit for more than two years.

Madam Melbourne's prior commitments wouldn't permit such a long journey before this.

I've sung in every country in Europe, Fitzpahy.

I've sung repeatedly all over the United States.

Were your sons?

Where were we?

Mr. Caravals, I have been interviewed by all sorts of journalists.

I've learned a lot.

For instance, in America, there's no law of libel.

So the newspapers can say anything they like about you.

I tried to bring an action against a Chicago newspaper.

My solicitor advised me that it would be necessary for me to stay in Chicago for two years.

But then, I might only get $100 instead of £100,000 I should have claimed.

Do I make myself clear?

Of course, if you want to know absolutely everything about me, tell them I've given up tea and I've given up bread.

The first gives me wind, the second makes me fat.

And please, say something of Marquesi, my beloved teacher.

How old she is, nobody knows.

But what a worker!

She's still teachers, seven hours a day.

I studied ten operatic roles in nine months with her.

And the Duke of Olyon.

Don't say something about him.

Oh look, Mr. Caravals, did you see a beautiful white cockatoo?

Now, what will I be singing in my concert?

Slowing down.

Here we are, Hornsberg.

At last.

Here are they?

Bell, Charlie!

Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.

Oh, you're here!

Mr. Musgrove, how do you do it?

Very good to see you.

Isn't it exciting?

You've met my brother-in-law, Tom Patterson.

Indeed I have. Welcome aboard.

How do you do, Mr. Musgrove?

My brother, Charlie.

How do you do, Mr. Musgrove?

Are you pleased with the way things are going?

I can think that I am.

Yes, the latest used to hand every ticket for the five-millman concerts has been sold.

Isn't it splendid?

Oh, no, you're a treasure.

I'm a...

More flowers!

I have to warn you, Mel.

Excruciating bores, and sprung up like mushrooms on the era.

It turns out that almost everyone knew you back in the evenings.

They all knew you very well and predicted your success.

And we don't remember them at all.

No. Oh, dear.

And people who could get only one ticket as sharing.

Exactly.

Life sees the first time that we've ever met.

I'm not sure.

But you know, I'm not sure.

I'm not sure.

People who could get only one ticket as sharing.

Exactly. Life sees the first half of the concert.

The husband, the second.

That sort of thing.

Really?

I still can't believe you're here.

Oh, well, I am.

Fair, fat and 40.

You know Dad's meeting him in Albany.

I do want to.

Well, he is.

And he tried to dissuade him, but not Dad.

He will meet his daughter at the border of the colony of Victoria, so he will.

But there's no stopping him.

He doesn't hold too much for this Federation business.

What time do we arrive in Aubrey?

First thing in the morning.

Oh.

Hello.

Haven't seen what we have.

Not that hat.

Daddy is hated.

That hat.

Lady, you don't get into a state.

Oh.

Why do I always look such a man during the daylight?

I'm wearing a hood at night.

This right, I'll break their cameras.

Yes, yes, yes.

Now do me up for heaven's sake.

Oh, my God, do me up.

Oh!

Where is my father?

Welcome to the border.

Thank you.

Where is my father?

My father, where is he?

Madam Melbourne.

Your father is ill.

Slides drunk.

He's resting at a house nearby.

Struck.

Daddy.

You should never have come all this way.

I shall stay here with you.

The train can go without me.

I will not leave you.

You're my...

God.

God.

Oh, my...

I feel that I would not be doing myself

or the Melbourne public justice

if I appeared while affected

by the excitements of the rush

by praying from Brisbane to Melbourne

and the reunion with my dear father

and the members of my family

after a situation of some 16 years.

Are you sure that you wouldn't prefer

to simply say that your father had suffered a stroke?

No.

No, I want to postpone it.

Not people sympathy.

This message is to ask the Melbourne public

to allow me a few days' grace.

It had been arranged that I would give my first concert in Melbourne

on Wednesday the 24th.

Have events have shaped...

Perhaps I still could.

It's possible.

Nellie, no.

As events have shaped themselves,

I feel that to hold the opening concert

on the original date would be unjust to myself

and to my reputation.

It's true.

Quite true.

My most earnest desire is to keep faith with the public.

Yet here I ask them to allow me to change the date

of the first concert from Wednesday the 24th to Saturday the 27th

in all other respects the dates fixed by my manager

will be scrupulously observed by me.

And I'll sing as I've never sung before.

As long as I go,

I'll sing as long as I go.

As long as I go,

I'll sing as long as I go.

As long as I go,

I'll sing as long as I go.

Willstruck,

fill the world's

is not meant

There's no place like home.

There's no place like home.

Now you must rest.

I feel quite well.

Old age. That's all that's wrong with me.

A stroke, even a slight one.

Over excitement, lass.

All right, one, sir, so are you okay.

I hated leaving you.

I had your job to do.

You're quite good at it.

Have you forgiven me?

You don't need forgiveness.

The Queen of Song.

You went a good deal of money.

You put some aside.

In this city hall.

What are the lads this pilot made when coming for the high?

I first met the King when he was Prince of Wales.

I remember I was amazed at his loud, dramatic laugh.

Really?

German?

Yes. Had to have a special tuition to lose his accent.

What's he like?

Good fun. Loves gossip.

At Country House parties, placement at table must be according to rank.

Poor Gladys de Grey found herself sitting next to the King three nights in a row.

What on earth will I talk about? She asked her Frederick Ponsonby?

Give away any secret you can about your relatives and friends.

You're a fine help, she said. I did that the first night.

Gladys, is that how she pronounced it?

Hmm, to rhyme with the Grey. Dear Gladys, she is such fun.

Oscar Wilde called her the wittiest woman in London.

He even dedicated a play to her. Oscar Wilde?

Yes, poor creature.

Dreadful lost her literature.

What a lovely garden you have, Belle. Yes, it is.

These are for you, Aunt Bailey. Oh, but they're beautiful, my darling.

I should address them. They will remind me of home.

You see, Belle? She said home.

Australia is my home.

And time has passed so quickly.

Your visit has been a wonderful success.

Beyond my wildest dreams.

The audiences have been splendid.

And everyone's so genuinely sweet.

You must be so tired now.

The effort of it all.

The travelling and people forever wanting your autograph and everything.

I've developed housemaid's knee of the knuckle.

Look out!

Well played!

Thank you, Aunt Nilly. I think you're wonderful.

Our child's arm's drunk would be so cruelty I never know.

Stealing George.

He wanted something of his own.

Let's not talk about it.

You're happy you have your children with you.

Give it to me.

As you watch them grow, think of me.

Charles promised you he would remain in Virginia.

For one year.

And the George would be allowed to go back to school in England.

Well, he didn't, did he? He disappeared.

You should be the telephone.

You should be the telephone.

I could do nothing. No work.

No work.

My child was setting up.

I'm in the car.

I'm in the car.

I'm in the car.

I'm in the car.

I'm in the car.

I'm in the car.

I'm in the car.

I'm in the car.

I'm in the car.

I'm in the car.

You're a brother, aren't you?

Argus?

Been writing all that sickening gush about the wobbling whore?

I think you're a whore.

You know who I am.

Jack Norton, truth.

I don't you mention the girl on the grub, she's brought out here for this traveling circus of hers.

Mm?

You're a labor man, aren't you?

Yes. Then stop writing like a toff.

These Mitchells and Melbournes with their brick works and their vineyards and their royal jewels.

Let's see if their money and their artistic genius can save them from the truth.

I suppose you'll be following in the wake of Madame Melbourne's majestic march on lawnsister?

Yes, I am.

Good.

Good.

I'll be in Tasmanian myself.

That's a good thing.

Have a drink.

Thank you.

Oh, oh, Nivey.

Hello, George.

I'm Ian at Bad Cross.

Bad crossing.

Give me Niagara Falls in a barrel any day.

The captain said it was the worst crossing I've ever experienced, and he looks about as old as Methuselah.

Mind you, the kudjis, nothing more than a paddle boat.

What I should have done was to cone-side with a big steam and not chance the weather.

Is Madame Melbourne still in dispernist?

Worse than that, her throat's bleeding from repeated bouts of ceasing.

So it would be forced to cancel?

Yes, yes, yes.

We have to.

Despite the unavoidable disappointment, we're completely sold out, of course.

But the doctor's head, sing now.

You may never sing again.

An open letter to Madame Melbourne, concerning her champagne capers,

reaches of public faith, outrages against good manners,

and insults to Australian citizens.

Malifluis, Melbourne.

Your Melbourne concert was postponed because Madame was indisposed.

You broke faith with the public a second time in Launceston.

Your champagne capers in Gay-Perry, in London, in Frisco, Sydney and Launceston,

and not least at the Menzies Hotel.

Oh, Bella.

The careers of great singers who have caressed the cup

and drowned their songs in strong drink

should cause you to look upon champagne with a shudder.

Oh, and...

I'm not going to dig up the squalid scandal of your married life.

The filthy rag has no place in my house.

Isn't it enough it's being read with the carriers to like to cross the kitchen tables of homes

throughout Australia?

I told you he's busy. He can't see you at all.

Oh, yes he can.

Why, Vince?

So you've come to see me.

Does that capitalistic conservative scavenger after advertisements

of a newspaper that you scroll for won a story?

You waited until she left the country.

Oh, you coward.

She needs taking down a peg.

My boots burst the bladder of bunkum.

Why should people flatter, Melbourne, for fawning before flabby, fat, flatchill and foreign kings?

I'm an Australian and I'm a Republican and I pour bucket of shit over bloody hypocrites

without fear or favor.

You're a muck-rate journalist for the money it brings.

You degrade your intellect, prostitute your newspaper, and rival innocent people for your own pleasure.

That's one word, putting it.

You're poison.

Names don't hurt me.

You can call me what you like.

You pretend to champion the working man, but you don't.

You capitalize on his weakness.

You flout the law and exploit the community.

There is nothing you brown-nosed boog liquor.

There is nothing decent or dignified about a hopeless drunk,

even if he thinks he is the polio and bone apart, marching along the line of destiny.

Get it out!

She'll never live this down.

Never!

Never!

Never.

Never.

They will feast on it.

They'll believe it.

Why?

Why?

I cannot sue my whole life.

Direct with a mud.

Dear God, and in my own country.

Why would anyone hate me so much?

I've never even met him.

I love you to snatch a mint with you alone, Lillie Donne.

Really, that old lady, Tufton, is too grateful for word.

Did you go to her party?

Last Friday.

Yes.

There ought to be an act of Parliament stopping her.

It was gasket of filthy as food.

What about you?

Was your return to Australia as triumphant as they say?

Quite.

I made heaps of money.

And it was delightful to see my dear father again.

In fact, if it hadn't been for the usual scandal, mungering, I should have found the whole thing most enjoyable.

No, what was said?

The newspaper article claimed I was perpetually soaked in champagne.

That was frightfully funny.

Yes.

No, I was rather upset at the time.

Poor Clara Butt.

She asked me what she ought to sing on her Australian tour. I said sing them muck.

Italian necessary as far as Clara Butt is concerned, darling.

Anybody who goes about singing just a ray of sunlight in a fairy went to marketing.

Orton to be encouraged.

Ha ha ha.

Sing.

Meek yama lo beeee.

La la la la la.

La la la la la la.

La la la la la.

La la la la la.

La story a mie a dreme.

T

Oh, you do not know, London mother.

The so-called musical set is a group of feather-brained society ladies led by Lady

de Grey, whose husbands control the finances of Covent Garden.

Lady de Grey and Melbourne are hand in glove.

They are good friends, certainly.

Little birds are saying a reign of terror exists to eliminate all artists who threaten

the supremacy of your beloved Nelly.

Yes, little birds have a habit of twittering about such things bloke.

I am told on the best authority I have a certain enemy.

I shall never sing there I know it, just because I succeeded where Melbourne failed.

Long.

Nelly set her heart on singing, Brona Hilda, I bet not to.

Her voice was totally unsuited, but she could not help herself.

She felt she must follow fashion.

So, she sang it in New York and she failed.

Well, naturally, she resends your success in the same role.

Jealousy is her weakness, but it is also her strength.

She strives for perfection.

See, it has to be the best.

Be flattered so great an artist envies you.

I have never liked Nelly.

She has never liked me.

She loves you.

She has never failed to acknowledge you.

I am her teacher.

She knows I placed my pupil first, above all else.

I am your pupil.

You are also a successful teacher with a husband and three beautiful children.

She is alone.

How do you look?

Mrs. Otway, madam madam, you sang wonderfully.

Oh.

The best thing you've seen with her.

Thank you, Frederick.

I love you look tonight, Mrs. Otway.

Nobody would believe you had a daughter of sixteen.

So, I'm told.

Mind you, none of our young beauties can hold a candle.

I can't say that I appreciate the note of wonder creeping into men's admiration,

Colonel Otway.

To be lovely is one thing.

To be still lovely is quite a thing.

Is Mimi your favourite, Rome, madam Mel?

I delight in singing it.

Madam Melba's faith in La Boi, I am led to its presentation.

According to the newspapers, it is a great success.

Those papers do not always tell the truth.

But at least they tell you whether the thing is a success or not.

I should be very sorry to be seen at a failure.

Very sorry indeed.

No danger here.

How wonderful you look, my dear child.

You look well.

Both of you.

Hans Maseva Papa Salva Torre.

To all to be handsome.

But still young enough to enjoy a compliment.

We received all your letters.

You're good to write to us so often.

How is Blanche happy?

And her children growing.

Ah, the dears.

We must hear this La Boi mme of Puccini's.

Oh, I want you to.

It's a lovely opera.

Puccini.

He is the best of the young Italian composers.

I hope you'll took no notice of that article by Emma Eames attacking or teaching method.

She would never have had a career without me.

When you came to me, her voice was spoiled.

What I am you have made.

That's what you wrote to me.

Shall I never sing it, coven garden again?

Oh, Nellie, you are incorrigible.

The more she denies you, the more I appraise you.

Why are you so good to me?

Because you gave me everything.

And I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.