I'm glad I didn't get a chance to read through the whole libretto before going to Ruddigore. The 'punchline' of the play was hinted at just enough in advance to make the moment really gel, and the surprise twisted my mind around in all the right ways.
Of course, by intermission I had already devised how I hoped the action would resolve itself. And of course nothing of he sort happened. Mad Margaret's end especially left me hoping for something more for her. I almost hoped she'd be carried away on a cloud of wordplay and end up married to Robin, since 'he' was the one who hadtrifled with her. Then he and she could have waltzed off into a Bedlam all their own made of dead roses and the state of constantly being prepared for death. Holy crap, someone needs to write that play. And I need to go to bed.