Magical Lasso
BACKSTAGE
(BUQUET mysteriously appears, a length of fabric
serving as a cloak, and a piece of rope as the Punjab
lasso. He is showing off to the BALLET GIRLS)
BUQUET
Like yellow parchment
is his skin . . .
a great black hole served as the
nose that never grew . . .
(Demonstrating his method of self-defence against the
Punjab lasso, he inserts his hand between his neck and
the noose, and then pulls the rope taut. With a mixture of
horror and delight, the BALLET GIRLS applaud this
demonstration)
(explaining to them)
You must be always
on your guard,
or he will catch you with his
magical lasso!
(A trap opens up centre stage casting a shadow of the
PHANTOM as he emerges. The GIRLS, linking hands,
run off terrified. The PHANTOM, leading CHRISTINE,
fixes his stare on BUQUET. Sweeping his cape around
CHRISTINE, he exits with her But before they go GIRY
has entered, observing. She turns on BUQUET)
GIRY
Those who speak
of what they know
find, too late, that prudent
silence is wise.
Joseph Buquet,
hold your tongue
he will burn you with the
heat of his eyes . . .
Magical Lasso
BACKSTAGE
(BUQUET mysteriously appears, a length of fabric
serving as a cloak, and a piece of rope as the Punjab
lasso. He is showing off to the BALLET GIRLS)
BUQUET
Like yellow parchment
is his skin . . .
a great black hole served as the
nose that never grew . . .
(Demonstrating his method of self-defence against the
Punjab lasso, he inserts his hand between his neck and
the noose, and then pulls the rope taut. With a mixture of
horror and delight, the BALLET GIRLS applaud this
demonstration)
(explaining to them)
You must be always
on your guard,
or he will catch you with his
magical lasso!
(A trap opens up centre stage casting a shadow of the
PHANTOM as he emerges. The GIRLS, linking hands,
run off terrified. The PHANTOM, leading CHRISTINE,
fixes his stare on BUQUET. Sweeping his cape around
CHRISTINE, he exits with her But before they go GIRY
has entered, observing. She turns on BUQUET)
GIRY
Those who speak
of what they know
find, too late, that prudent
silence is wise.
Joseph Buquet,
hold your tongue
he will burn you with the
heat of his eyes . . .