Ages Ago is a musical entertainment with an English-language libretto by W. S. Gilbert and music by Frederic Clay that premiered in 1869 at the Royal Gallery of Illustration in London. It marked the beginning of a seven-year collaboration between Gilbert and Clay. The piece features a haunted Scottish castle inhabited by Sir Ebenezer Tare, with other characters including his niece, her poor suitor and a housekeeper with second sight. The paintings of the castle's former owners come to life and step out of their frames. Gilbert re-used the device of paintings coming to life in his 1887 opera with Arthur Sullivan, Ruddigore. Ages Ago was a critical and popular success and was revived many times, including at St. George's Hall, London, in 1870 and 1874, and in New York in 1880. This chromolithograph theatre poster was created to advertise the original production of Ages Ago and is now in the collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum.Poster credit: Stannard & Son; restored by Adam Cuerden
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It is so terribly sad that I have to explain that the above is a JOKE
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!