The Works of Henry Fielding, vol. 12
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Title: The Works of Henry Fielding, vol. 12
Author: Henry Fielding
Editor: George Saintsbury
Release date: November 1, 2004 [eBook #6828]
Most recently updated: December 30, 2020
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6828
Credits: Produced by Anurag Garg, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF HENRY FIELDING, VOL. 12 ***
Produced by Anurag Garg, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE WORKS OF HENRY FIELDING
EDITED BY
GEORGE SAINTSBURY
IN TWELVE VOLUMES
VOL. XII.
* * * * *
MISCELLANIES
VOL. II.
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF TOM
THUMB THE GREAT AND SOME
MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS
BY HENRY FIELDING ESQ.
EDITED BY GEORGE
SAINTSBURY WITH
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HERBERT RAILTON
& E. J. WHEELER.
* * * * *
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
THE AUTHOR'S FARCE, ACTS I. AND II.
THE TRAGEDY OF TRAGEDIES; OR, THE LIFE AND DEATH
OF TOM THUMB THE GREAT
PASQUIN; A DRAMATIC SATIRE ON THE TIMES
AN ESSAY ON CONVERSATION
THE TRUE PATRIOT, NO. XIII.
THE COVENT-GARDEN JOURNAL, NOS. X., XXXIII.
FAMILIAR LETTER
* * * * *
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PORTRAIT OF FIELDING BY HOGARTH
THE DEATH OF LORD GRIZZLE
HE ACQUAINTED THE DAMSELS THAT HE AND
HIS COMPANIONS HAD CARRIED THE OPERA.
* * * * *
THE AUTHOR'S FARCE;
[WITH A PUPPET-SHOW CALLED THE PLEASURES OF THE TOWN.]
FIRST ACTED AT THE HAY-MARKET IN 1729, AND REVIVED
SOME YEARS AFTER AT DRURY-LANE, WHEN IT WAS
REVISED AND GREATLY ALTERED BY THE AUTHOR, AS
NOW PRINTED.
----------------Quis iniquae
Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus, ut teneat se?
--_JUV_. Sat. I.
PROLOGUE, SPOKEN BY MR JONES
Too long the Tragick Muse hath aw'd the stage,
And frighten'd wives and children with her rage,
Too long Drawcansir roars, Parthenope weeps,
While ev'ry lady cries, and critick sleeps
With ghosts, rapes, murders, tender hearts they wound,
Or else, like thunder, terrify with sound
When the skill'd actress to her weeping eyes,
With artful sigh, the handkerchief applies,
How griev'd each sympathizing nymph appears!
And box and gallery both melt in tears
Or when, in armour of Corinthian brass,
Heroick actor stares you in the face,
And cries aloud, with emphasis that's fit, on
Liberty, freedom, liberty and Briton!
While frowning, gaping for applause he stands,
What generous Briton can refuse his hands?
Like the tame animals design'd for show,
You have your cues to clap, as they to bow,
Taught to commend, your judgments have no share,
By chance you guess aright, by chance you err.
But, handkerchiefs and Britain laid aside,
To-night we mean to laugh, and not to chide.
In days of yore, when fools were held in fashion,
Tho' now, alas! all banish'd from the nation,
A merry jester had reform'd his lord,
Who would have scorn'd the sterner Stoick's word
Bred in Democritus his laughing schools,
Our author flies sad Heraclitus rules,
No tears, no terror plead in his behalf,
The aim of Farce is but to make you laugh
Beneath the tragick or the comick name,
Farces and puppet shows ne'er miss of fame
Since then, in borrow'd dress, they've pleas'd the town,
Condemn them not, appearing in their own
Smiles we expect from the good-natur'd few,
As ye are done by, ye malicious, do,
And kindly laugh at him who laughs at you.
PERSONS IN THE FARCE.
MEN.
_Luckless_, the Author and Master of the Show, ... Mr MULLART.
_Witmore_, his friend ... Mr LACY.
_Marplay, sen._, Comedian ... Mr REYNOLDS,
_Marplay, jun._, Comedian ... Mr STOPLER.
_Bookweight_, a Bookseller ... Mr JONES.
_Scarecrow_, Scribbler ... Mr MARSHAL,
_Dash_, " " ... Mr HALLAM,
_Quibble_, " " ... Mr DOVE,
_Blotpage_, " " ... Mr WELLS, jun.
_Index_ ... --------.
_Jack_, servant to Luckless ... Mr ACHURCH.
_Jack-Pudding_ ... Mr REYNOLDS.
_Bantomite_ ... Mr MARSHAL.
WOMEN.
_Mrs Moneywood_, the Author's Landlady ... Mrs MULLART.
_Harriot_, her daughter. ... Miss PALMS.
ACT I.
SCENE I.--LUCKLESS's _Room in_ Mrs MONEYWOOD'S
_House_.--Mrs MONEYWOOD, HARRIOT, LUCKLESS.
_Moneywood_. Never tell me, Mr Luckless, of your play, and your
play. I tell you I must be paid. I would no more depend on a
benefit-night of an unacted play than I would on a benefit-ticket in
an undrawn lottery. Could I have guessed that I had a poet in my
house! Could I have looked for a poet under laced clothes!
_Luck_. Why not? since you may often find poverty under them:
nay, they are commonly the signs of it. And, therefore, why may not a
poet be seen in them as well as a courtier?
_Money_. Do you make a jest of my misfortune, sir?
_Luck_. Rather my misfortune. I am sure I have a better title to
poverty than you; for, notwithstanding the handsome figure I make,
unless you are so good to invite me, I am afraid I shall scarce
prevail on my stomach to dine to-day.
_Money_. Oh, never fear that--you will never want a dinner till
you have dined at all the eating-houses round.--No one shuts their
doors against you the first time; and I think you are so kind, seldom
to trouble them a second.
_Luck_. No.--And if you will give me leave to walk out of your
doors, the devil take me if ever I come into 'em again,
_Money_. Pay me, sir, what you owe me, and walk away whenever you
please.
_Luck_. With all my heart, madam; get me a pen and ink, and I'll
give you my note for it immediately.
_Money_. Your note! who will discount it? Not your bookseller; for
he has as many of your notes as he has of your works; both good
lasting ware, and which are never likely to go out of his shop and his
scrutore.
_Har_. Nay, but, madam, 'tis barbarous to insult him in this
manner.
_Money_. No doubt you'll take his part. Pray get you about your
business. I suppose he intends to pay me by ruining you. Get you in
this instant: and remember, if ever I see you with him again I'll turn
you out of doors.
SCENE II--LUCKLESS, Mrs MONEYWOOD
_Luck_. Discharge all your ill-nature on me, madam, but spare
poor Miss Harriot.
_Money_. Oh! then it is plain. I have suspected your familiarity
a long while. You are a base man. Is it not enough to stay three
months in my house without paying me a farthing, but you must ruin my
child?
_Luck_. I love her as my soul. Had I the world I'd give it her
all.
_Money_. But, as you happen to have nothing in the world, I
desire you would have nothing to say to her. I suppose you would have
settled all your castles in the air. Oh! I wish you had lived in one
of them, instead of my house. Well, I am resolved, when you have gone
away (which I heartily hope will be very soon) I'll hang over my door
in great red letters, "No lodgings for poets." Sure never was such a
guest as you have been. My floor is all spoiled with ink, my windows
with verses, and my door has been almost beat down with duns.
_Luck_. Would your house had been beaten down, and everything but
my dear Harriot crushed under it!
_Money_. Sir, sir----
_Luck_. Madam, madam! I will attack you at your own weapons; I
will pay you in your own coin.
_Money_. I wish you'd pay me in any coin, sir.
_Luck_. Look ye, madam, I'll do as much as a reasonable woman can
require; I'll shew you all I have; and give you all I have too, if you
please to accept it. [_Turns his pockets Inside out_.
_Money_. I will not be used in this manner. No, sir, I will be
paid, if there be any such thing as law.
_Luck_. By what law you will put money into my pocket I know not;
for I never heard of any one who got money by the law but the
lawyers. I have told you already, and I tell you again, that the first
money I get shall be yours; and I have great expectations from my
play. In the mean time your staying here can be of no service, and you
may possibly drive some line thoughts out of my head. I would write a
love scene, and your daughter would be more proper company, on that
occasion, than you.
_Money_. You would act a love-scene, I believe; but I shall
prevent you; for I intend to dispose of myself before my daughter.
_Luck_. Dispose of yourself!
_Money_. Yes, sir, dispose of myself. 'Tis very well known that I
have had very good offers since my last dear husband died. I might
have had an attorney of New Inn, or Mr Fillpot, the exciseman; yes, I
had my choice of two parsons, or a doctor of physick; and yet I
slighted them all; yes, I slighted them for--for--for you.
_Luck_. For me?
_Money_. Yes, you have seen too visible marks of my passion; too
visible for my reputation. [_Sobbing_.
_Luck_. I have heard very loud tokens of your passion; but I
rather took it for the passion of anger than of love.
_Money_. Oh! it was love, indeed. Nothing but love, upon my
soul!
_Luck_. The devil! This way of dunning is worse than the other.
_Money_. If thou can'st not pay me in money, let me have it in
love. If I break through the modesty of my sex let my passion excuse
it. I know the world will call it an impudent action; but if you will
let me reserve all I have to myself, I will make myself yours for
ever.
_Luck_. Toll, loll, loll!
_Money_. And is this the manner you receive my declaration, you
poor beggarly fellow? You shall repent this; remember, you shall
repent it; remember that. I'll shew you the revenge of an injured
woman.
_Luck_. I shall never repent anything that rids me of you, I am
sure.
SCENE III.--LUCKLESS, HARRIOT.
_Luck_. Dear Harriot!
_Har_. I have waited an opportunity to return to you.
_Luck_. Oh! my dear, I am so sick!
_Har_. What's the matter?
_Luck_. Oh! your mother! your mother!
_Har_. What, has she been scolding ever since?
_Luck_. Worse, worse!
_Har_. Heaven forbid she should threaten to go to law with you.
_Luck_. Oh, worse! worse! she threatens to go to church with
me. She has made me a generous offer, that if I will but marry her she
will suffer me to settle all she has upon her.
_Har_. Generous creature! Sure you will not resist the proposal?
_Luck_. Hum! what would you advise me to?
_Har_. Oh, take her, take her, by all means; you will be the
prettiest, finest, loveliest, sweetest couple. Augh! what a delicate
dish of matrimony you will make! Her age with your youth, her avarice
with your extravagance, and her scolding with your poetry.
_Luck_. Nay, but I am serious, and I desire you would be so. You
know my unhappy circumstances, and your mother's wealth. It would be
at least a prudent match.
_Har_. Oh! extremely prudent, ha, ha, ha! the world will say,
Lard! who could have thought Mr Luckless had had so much prudence?
This one action will overbalance all the follies of your life.
_Luck_. Faith, I think it will: but, dear Harriot, how can I
think of losing you for ever? And yet, as our affairs stand, I see no
possibility of our being happy together. It will be some pleasure,
too, that I may have it in my power to serve you. Believe me, it is
with the utmost reluctance I think of parting with you. For if it was
in my power to have you----
_Har_. Oh, I am very much obliged to you; I believe you--Yes, you
need not swear, I believe you.
_Luck_. And can you as easily consult prudence, and part with me?
for I would not buy my own happiness at the price of yours.
_Har_. I thank you, sir--Part with you--intolerable vanity!
_Luck_. Then I am resolved; and so, my good landlady,
have at you.
_Har_. Stay, sir, let me acquaint you with one thing--you are a
villain! and don't think I'm vexed at anything, but that I should have
been such a fool as ever to have had a good opinion of you.
[_Crying_.
_Luck_. Ha, ha, ha! Caught, by Jupiter! And did my dear Harriot
think me in earnest?
_Har_. And was you not in earnest?
_Luck_. What, to part with thee? A pretty woman will be sooner in
earnest to part with her beauty, or a great man with his power.
_Har_. I wish I were assured of the sincerity of your love.
AIR. _Butter'd Pease_.
_Luck_. Does my dearest Harriot ask
What for love I would pursue?
Would you, charmer, know what task
I would undertake for you?
Ask the bold ambitious, what
He for honours would atchieve?
Or the gay voluptuous, that
Which he'd not for pleasure give?
Ask the miser what he'd do
To amass excessive gain?
Or the saint, what he'd pursue,
His wish'd heav'n to obtain?
These I would attempt, and more--
For, oh! my Harriot is to me
All ambition, pleasure, store,
Or what heav'n itself can be!
_Har_. Would my dearest Luckless know
What his constant Harriot can
Her tender love and faith to show
For her dear, her only man?
Ask the vain coquette what she
For men's adoration would;
Or from censure to be free,
Ask the vile censorious prude.
In a coach and six to ride,
What the mercenary jade,
Or the widow to be bride
To a brisk broad-shoulder'd blade.
All these I would attempt for thee,
Could I but thy passion fix;
Thy will my sole commander be,
And thy arms my coach and six.
_Money_. [_within_]. Harriot, Harriot.
_Har_. Hear the dreadful summons! adieu. I will take the first
opportunity of seeing you again.
_Luck_. Adieu, my pretty charmer; go thy ways for the first of
thy sex.
SCENE IV.--LUCKLESS, JACK.
_Luck_. So! what news bring you?
_Jack_. An't please your honour I have been at my lord's, and his
lordship thanks you for the favour you have offered of reading your
play to him; but he has such a prodigious deal of business, he begs to
be excused. I have been with Mr Keyber too--he made me no answer at
all. Mr Bookweight will be here immediately.
_Luck_. Jack.
_Jack_. Sir.
_Luck_. Fetch my other hat hither;--carry it to the pawnbroker's.
_Jack_. To your honour's own pawnbroker!
_Luck_. Ay--and in thy way home call at the cook's shop. So, one
way or other, I find my head must always provide for my belly.
SCENE V.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE.
_Luck_. I am surprized! dear Witmore!
_Wit_. Dear Harry!
_Luck_. This is kind, indeed; but I do not more wonder at finding
a man in this age who can be a friend to adversity, than that Fortune
should be so much my friend as to direct you to me; for she is a lady
I have not been much indebted to lately.
_Wit_. She who told me, I assure you, is one you have been
indebted to a long while.
_Luck_. Whom do you mean?
_Wit_. One who complains of your unkindness in not visiting
her--Mrs Lovewood.
_Luck_. Dost thou visit there still, then?
_Wit_. I throw an idle hour away there sometimes. When I am in
an ill-humour I am sure of feeding it there with all the scandal in
town, for no bawd is half so diligent in looking after girls with an
uncracked maidenhead as she in searching out women with cracked
reputations.
_Luck_. The much more infamous office of the two.
_Wit_. Thou art still a favourer of the women, I find.
_Luck_. Ay, the women and the muses--the high roads to beggary.
_Wit_. What, art thou not cured of scribling yet?
_Luck_. No, scribling is as impossible to cure as the gout.
_Wit_. And as sure a sign of poverty as the gout of
riches. 'Sdeath! in an age of learning and true politeness, where a
man might succeed by his merit, there would be some encouragement. But
now, when party and prejudice carry all before them; when learning is
decried, wit not understood; when the theatres are puppet-shows, and
the comedians ballad-singers; when fools lead the town, would a man
think to thrive by his wit? If you must write, write nonsense, write
operas, write Hurlothrumbos, set up an oratory and preach nonsense,
and you may meet with encouragement enough. Be profane, be scurrilous,
be immodest: if you would receive applause, deserve to receive
sentence at the Old Bailey; and if you would ride in a coach, deserve
to ride in a cart.
_Luck_. You are warm, my friend.
_Wit_. It is because I am your friend. I cannot bear to hear the
man I love ridiculed by fools--by idiots. To hear a fellow who, had he
been born a Chinese, had starved for want of genius to have been even
the lowest mechanick, toss up his empty noddle with an affected
disdain of what he has not understood; and women abusing what they
have neither seen nor heard, from an unreasonable prejudice to an
honest fellow whom they have not known. If thou wilt write against all
these reasons get a patron, be pimp to some worthless man of quality,
write panegyricks on him, flatter him with as many virtues as he has
vices. Then, perhaps, you will engage his lordship, his lordship
engages the town on your side, and then write till your arms ake,
sense or nonsense, it will all go down.
_Luck_. Thou art too satirical on mankind. It is possible to
thrive in the world by justifiable means.
_Wit_. Ay, justifiable, and so they are justifiable by
custom. What does the soldier or physician thrive by but
slaughter?--the lawyer but by quarrels?--the courtier but by
taxes?--the poet but by flattery? I know none that thrive by profiting
mankind, but the husbandman and the merchant: the one gives you the
fruit of your own soil, the other brings you those from abroad; and
yet these are represented as mean and mechanical, and the others as
honourable and glorious.
_Luck_. Well; but prithee leave railing, and tell me what you
would advise me to do.
_Wit_. Do! why thou art a vigorous young fellow, and there are
rich widows in town.
_Luck_. But I am already engaged.
_Wit_. Why don't you marry then--for I suppose you are not mad
enough to have any engagement with a poor mistress?
_Luck_. Even so, faith; and so heartily that I would not change
her for the widow of a Croesus.
_Wit_. Now thou art undone, indeed. Matrimony clenches ruin
beyond retrieval. What unfortunate stars wert thou born under? Was it
not enough to follow those nine ragged jades the muses, but you must
fasten on some earth-born mistress as poor as them?
_Mar. jun_. [_within_]. Order my chairman to call on me at
St James's.--No, let them stay.
_Wit_. Heyday, whom the devil have we here?
_Luck_. The young captain, sir; no less a person, I assure you.
SCENE VI.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE, MARPLAY, jun.
_Mar. jun_. Mr Luckless, I kiss your hands--Sir, I am your most
obedient humble servant; you see, Mr Luckless, what power you have
over me. I attend your commands, though several persons of quality
have staid at court for me above this hour.
_Luck_. I am obliged to you--I have a tragedy for your house, Mr
Marplay.
_Mar. jun_. Ha! if you will send it to me, I will give you my
opinion of it; and if I can make any alterations in it that will be
for its advantage, I will do it freely.
_Wit_. Alterations, sir?
_Mar. jun_. Yes, sir, alterations--I will maintain it. Let a
play be never so good, without alteration it will do nothing.
_Wit_. Very odd indeed!
_Mar. jun_. Did you ever write, sir?
_Wit_. No, sir, I thank Heaven.
_Mar. jun_. Oh! your humble servant--your very humble servant,
sir. When you write yourself, you will find the necessity of
alterations. Why, sir, would you guess that I had altered Shakspeare?
_Wit_. Yes, faith, sir, no one sooner.
_Mar. jun_. Alack-a-day! Was you to see the plays when they are
brought to us--a parcel of crude undigested stuff. We are the persons,
sir, who lick them into form--that mould them into shape. The poet
make the play indeed! the colourman might be as well said to make the
picture, or the weaver the coat. My father and I, sir, are a couple of
poetical tailors. When a play is brought us, we consider it as a
tailor does his coat: we cut it, sir--we cut it; and let me tell you
we have the exact measure of the town; we know how to fit their
taste. The poets, between you and me, are a pack of ignorant----
_Wit_. Hold, hold, sir. This is not quite so civil to Mr
Luckless; besides, as I take it, you have done the town the honour of
writing yourself.
_Mar. jun_. Sir, you are a man of sense, and express yourself
well. I did, as you say, once make a small sally into Parnassus--took
a sort of flying leap over Helicon; but if ever they catch me there
again--sir, the town have a prejudice to my family; for, if any play
could have made them ashamed to damn it, mine must. It was all over
plot. It would have made half a dozen novels: nor was it crammed with
a pack of wit-traps, like Congreve and Wycherly, where every one knows
when the joke was coming. I defy the sharpest critick of them all to
have known when any jokes of mine were coming. The dialogue was plain,
easy, and natural, and not one single joke in it from the beginning to
the end: besides, sir, there was one scene of tender melancholy
conversation--enough to have melted a heart of stone; and yet they
damned it--and they damned themselves; for they shall have no more of
mine.
_Wit_. Take pity on the town, sir.
_Mar. jun_. I! No, sir, no. I'll write no more. No more; unless
I am forced to it.
_Luck_. That's no easy thing, Marplay.
_Mar. jun_. Yes, sir. Odes, odes, a man may be obliged to write
those, you know.
_Luck_, and _Wit_. Ha, ha, ha! that's true indeed.
_Luck_. But about my tragedy, Mr Marplay.
_Mar. jun_. I believe my father is at the playhouse: if you
please, we will read it now; but I must call on a young lady
first--Hey, who's there? Is my footman there? Order my chair to the
door. Your servant, gentlemen.--_Caro vien_. [_Exit, singing_.
_Wit_. This is the most finished gentleman I ever saw; and hath
not, I dare swear, his equal.
_Luck_. If he has, here he comes.
SCENE VII.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE, BOOKWEIGHT.
_Luck_. Mr Bookweight, your very humble servant.
_Book_. I was told, sir, that you had particular business with
me.
_Luck_. Yes, Mr Bookweight; I have something to put into your
hands. I have a play for you, Mr Bookweight.
_Book_. Is it accepted, sir?
_Luck_. Not yet.
_Book_. Oh, sir! when it is, it will be then time enough to talk
about it. A play, like a bill, is of no value till it is accepted; nor
indeed when it is, very often. Besides, sir, our playhouses are grown
so plenty, and our actors so scarce, that really plays are become very
bad commodities. But pray, sir, do you offer it to the players or the
patentees?
_Luck_. Oh! to the players, certainly.
_Book_. You are in the right of that. But a play which will do on
the stage will not always do for us; there are your acting plays and
your reading plays.
_Wit_. I do not understand that distinction.
_Book_. Why, sir, your acting play is entirely supported by the
merit of the actor; in which case, it signifies very little whether
there be any sense in it or no. Now, your reading play is of a
different stamp, and must have wit and meaning in it. These latter I
call your substantive, as being able to support themselves. The
former are your adjective, as what require the buffoonery and gestures
of an actor to be joined with them to shew their signification.
_Wit_. Very learnedly defined, truly.
_Luck_. Well, but, Mr Bookweight, will you advance fifty guineas
on my play?
_Book_. Fifty guineas! Yes, sir. You shall have them with all my
heart, if you will give me security for them. Fifty guineas for a
play! Sir, I would not give fifty shillings.
_Luck_. 'Sdeath, sir! do you beat me down at this rate?
_Book_. No, nor fifty farthings. Fifty guineas! Indeed your name
is well worth that.
_Luck_. Jack, take this worthy gentleman and kick him down
stairs.
_Book_. Sir, I shall make you repent this.
_Jack_. Come, sir, will you please to brush?
_Book_. Help! murder! I'll have the law of you, sir.
_Luck_. Ha, ha, ha!
SCENE VIII.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE, MRS MONEYWOOD.
_Money_. What noise is this? It is a very fine thing, truly, Mr
Luckless, that you will make these uproars in my house.
_Luck_. If you dislike it, it is in your power to drown a much
greater. Do you but speak, madam, and I am sure no one will be heard
but yourself.
_Money_. Very well, indeed! fine reflexions on my character! Sir,
sir, all the neighbours know that I have been as quiet a woman as ever
lived in the parish. I had no noises in my house till you came. We
were the family of love. But you have been a nusance to the whole
neighbourhood. While you had money, my doors were thundered at every
morning at four and five, by coachmen and chairmen; and since you have
had none, my house has been besieged all day by creditors and
bailiffs. Then there's the rascal your man; but I will pay the dog, I
will scour him. Sir, I am glad you are a witness of his abuses of me.
_Wit_. I am indeed, madam, a witness how unjustly he has abused
you. [JACK _whispers_ LUCKLESS.
_Luck_. Witmore, excuse me a moment.
SCENE IX.--Mrs MONEYWOOD, WITMORE.
_Money_. Yes, sir; and, sir, a man that has never shewn one the
colour of his money.
_Wit_. Very hard, truly. How much may he be in your debt, pray?
Because he has ordered me to pay you.
_Money_. Ay! sir, I wish he had.
_Wit_. I am serious, I assure you.
_Money_. I am very glad to hear it, sir. Here is the bill as we
settled it this very morning. I always thought, indeed, Mr Luckless
had a great deal of honesty in his principles: any man may be
unfortunate; but I knew when he had money I should have it; and what
signifies dunning a man when he hath it not? Now that is a way with
some people which I could never come in to.
_Wit_. There, madam, is your money. You may give Mr Luckless the
receipt.
_Money_. Sir, I give you both a great many thanks. I am sure it
is almost as charitable as if you gave it me; for I am to make up a
sum to-morrow morning. Well, if Mr Luckless was but a little soberer
I should like him for a lodger exceedingly: for I must say, I think
him a very pleasant good-humoured man.
SCENE X.--LUCKLESS, WITMORE, MONEYWOOD.
_Luck_. Those are words I never heard out of that mouth before.
_Money_. Ha, ha, ha! you are pleased to be merry: ha, ha!
_Luck_. Why, Witmore, thou hast the faculty opposite to that of a
witch, and canst lay a tempest. I should as soon have imagined one man
could have stopt a cannon-ball in its full force as her tongue.
_Money_. Ha, ha, ha! he is the best company in the world, sir,
and so full of his similitudes!
_Wit_. Luckless, good morrow; I shall see you soon again.
_Luck_. Let it be soon, I beseech you; for thou hast brought a
calm into this house that was scarce ever in it before.
SCENE XI.--LUCKLESS, MRS MONEYWOOD, JACK.
_Money_. Well, Mr Luckless, you are a comical man, to give one
such a character to a stranger.
_Luck_. The company is gone, madam; and now, like true man and
wife, we may fall to abusing one another as fast as we please.
_Money_. Abuse me as you please, so you pay me, sir.
_Luck_. 'Sdeath! madam, I will pay you.
_Money_. Nay, sir, I do not ask it before it is due. I don't
question your payment at all: if you was to stay in my house this
quarter of a year, as I hope you will, I should not ask you for a
farthing.
_Luck_. Toll, loll, loll.--But I shall have her begin with her
passion immediately; and I had rather be the object of her rage for a
year than of her love for half an hour.
_Money_. But why did you choose to surprise me with my money? Why
did you not tell me you would pay me?
_Luck_. Why, have I not told you?
_Money_. Yes, you told me of a play, and stuff: but you never
told me you would order a gentleman to pay me. A sweet, pretty,
good-humoured gentleman he is, heaven bless him! Well, you have
comical ways with you: but you have honesty at the bottom, and I'm
sure the gentleman himself will own I gave you that character.
_Luck_. Oh! I smell you now.--You see, madam, I am better than my
word to you: did he pay it you in gold or silver?
_Money_. All pure gold.
_Luck_. I have a vast deal of silver, which he brought me,
within; will you do me the favour of taking it in silver? that will be
of use to you in the shop too.
_Money_. Anything to oblige you, sir.
_Luck_. Jack, bring out the great bag, number one. Please to
tell the money, madam, on that table.
_Money_. It's easily told: heaven knows there's not so much on't.
_Jack_. Sir, the bag is so heavy, I cannot bring it in.
_Luck_. Why, then, come and help to thrust a heavier bag out.
_Money_. What do you mean?
_Luck_. Only to pay you in my bed-chamber.
_Money_. Villain, dog, I'll swear a robbery, and have you hanged:
rogues, villains!
_Luck_. Be as noisy as you please--[_Shuts the door_.] Jack,
call a coach; and, d' ye hear? get up behind it and attend me.
ACT II.
SCENE I.--_The Playhouse_.--LUCKLESS, MARPLAY,
senior, MARPLAY, junior.
_Luck_. [_Reads_.]
"Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear;
No matter where, so we are bless'd together.
With thee, the barren rocks, where not one step
Of human race lies printed in the snow,
Look lovely as the smiling infant spring."
_Mar. sen_. Augh! will you please to read that again, sir?
_Luck_. "Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear."
_Mar. sen_. "Then hence my sorrow."--Horror is a much better
word.--And then in the second line--"No matter where, so we are
bless'd together."--Undoubtedly, it should be, "No matter where, so
somewhere we're together." Where is the question, somewhere is the
answer.--Read on, sir.
_Luck_. "With thee,----"
_Mar. sen_. No, no, I could alter those lines to a much better
idea.
"With thee, the barren blocks, where not a bit
Of human face is painted on the bark,
Look green as Covent-garden in the spring."
_Luck_. Green as Covent-garden!
_Mar. jun_. Yes, yes; Covent-garden market, where they sell
greens.
_Luck_. Monstrous!
_Mar. sen_. Pray, sir, read on.
_Luck_.
"LEANDRA: oh, my Harmonio, I could hear thee still;
The nightingale to thee sings out of tune,
While on thy faithful breast my head reclines,
The downy pillow's hard; while from thy lips
I drink delicious draughts of nectar down,
Falernian wines seem bitter to my taste."
_Mar. jun_. Here's meat, drink, singing, and lodging, egad.
_Luck_. He answers.
_Mar. jun_. But, sir----
_Luck_.
"Oh, let me pull thee, press thee to my heart,
Thou rising spring of everlasting sweets!
Take notice, Fortune, I forgive thee all!
Thou'st made Leandra mine. Thou flood of joy
Mix with my soul, and rush thro' ev'ry vein."
_Mar. sen_. Those two last lines again if you please.
_Luck_. "Thou'st made," &c.
_Mar. jun_.
"----Thou flood of joy,
Mix with my soul and rush thro' ev'ry vein."
Those are two excellent lines indeed: I never writ
better myself: but, Sar----
_Luck_.
"Leandra's mine, go bid the tongue of fate
Pronounce another word of bliss like that;
Search thro' the eastern mines and golden shores,
Where lavish Nature pours forth all her stores;
For to my lot could all her treasures fall,
I would not change Leandra for them all."
There ends act the first, and such an act as, I believe, never was on
this stage yet.
_Mar. jun_. Nor never will, I hope.
_Mar. sen_. Pray, sir, let me look at one thing. "Falernian
wines seem bitter to my taste."
Pray, sir, what sort of wines may your Falernian be? for I never heard
of them before; and I am sure, as I keep the best company, if there
had been such sorts of wines, I should have tasted them. Tokay I have
drank, and Lacrimas I have drank, but what your Falernian is, the
devil take me if I can tell.
_Mar. jun_. I fancy, father, these wines grow at the top of
Parnassus.
_Luck_. Do they so, Mr Pert? why then I fancy you have never
tasted them.
_Mar. sen_. Suppose you should say the wines of Cape are bitter
to my taste.
_Luck_. Sir, I cannot alter it.
_Mar. sen_. Nor we cannot act it. It won't do, sir, and so you
need give yourself no farther trouble about it.
_Luck_. What particular fault do you find?
_Mar. jun_. Sar, there's nothing that touches me, nothing that is
coercive to my passions.
_Luck_. Fare you well, sir: may another play be coercive to your
passions.
SCENE II.--MARPLAY, senior, MARPLAY, junior.
_Mar. sen_. Ha, ha, ha!
_Mar. jun_. What do you think of the play?
_Mar. sen_. It may be a very good one, for aught I know: but I am
resolved, since the town will not receive any of mine, they shall have
none from any other. I'll keep them to their old diet.
_Mar. jun_. But suppose they won't feed on't?
_Mar. sen_. Then it shall be crammed down their throats.
_Mar. jun_. I wish, father, you would leave me that art for a
legacy, since I am afraid I am like to have no other from you.
_Mar. sen_. 'Tis buff, child, 'tis buff--true Corinthian brass;
and, heaven be praised, tho' I have given thee no gold, I have given
thee enough of that, which is the better inheritance of the two. Gold
thou might'st have spent, but this is a lasting estate that will stick
by thee all thy life.
_Mar. jun_. What shall be done with that farce which was damned
last night?
_Mar. sen_. Give it them again to-morrow. I have told some
persons of quality that it is a good thing, and I am resolved not to
be in the wrong: let us see which will be weary first, the town of
damning, or we of being damned.
_Mar. jun_. Rat the town, I say.
_Mar. sen_. That's a good boy; and so say I: but, prithee, what
didst thou do with the comedy which I gave thee t'other day, that I
thought a good one?
_Mar. jun_. Did as you ordered me; returned it to the author, and
told him it would not do.
_Mar. sen_. You did well. If thou writest thyself, and that I
know thou art very well qualified to do, it is thy interest to keep
back all other authors of any merit, and be as forward to advance
those of none.
_Mar. jun_. But I am a little afraid of writing; for my writings,
you know, have fared but ill hitherto.
_Mar. sen_. That is because thou hast a little mistaken the
method of writing. The art of writing, boy, is the art of stealing old
plays, by changing the name of the play, and new ones, by changing the
name of the author.
_Mar. jun_. If it was not for these cursed hisses and catcalls----
_Mar. sen_. Harmless musick, child, very harmless musick, and
what, when one is but well seasoned to it, has no effect at all: for
my part, I have been used to them.
_Mar. jun_. Ay, and I have been used to them too, for that
matter.
_Mar. sen_. And stood them bravely too. Idle young actors are
fond of applause, but, take my word for it, a clap is a mighty silly,
empty thing, and does no more good than a hiss; and, therefore, if any
man loves hissing, he may have his three shillings worth at me
whenever he pleases. [_Exeunt_.
SCENE III.--_A Room in_ BOOKWEIGHT'S _house_.--DASH,
BLOTPAGE, QUIBBLE, _writing at several tables_.
_Dash_. Pox on't, I'm as dull as an ox, tho' I have not a bit of
one within me. I have not dined these two days, and yet my head is as
heavy as any alderman's or lord's. I carry about me symbols of all the
elements; my head is as heavy as water, my pockets are as light as
air, my appetite is as hot as fire, and my coat is as dirty as earth.
_Blot_. Lend me your Bysshe, Mr Dash, I want a rhime for wind.
_Dash_. Why there's blind, and kind, and behind, and find, and
mind: it is of the easiest termination imaginable; I have had it four
times in a page.
_Blot_. None of those words will do.
_Dash_. Why then you may use any that end in ond, or and, or
end. I am never so exact: if the two last letters are alike, it will
do very well. Read the verse.
_Blot_. "Inconstant as the seas or as the wind."
_Dash_. What would you express in the next line?
_Blot_. Nay, that I don't know, for the sense is out already. I
would say something about inconstancy.
_Dash_. I can lend you a verse, and it will do very well too.
"Inconstancy will never have an end."
End rhimes very well with wind.
_Blot_. It will do well enough for the middle of a poem.
_Dash_. Ay, ay, anything will do well enough for the middle of a
poem. If you can but get twenty good lines to place at the beginning
for a taste, it will sell very well.
_Quib_. So that, according to you, Mr Dash, a poet acts pretty
much on the same principles with an oister-woman.
_Dash_. Pox take your simile, it has set my chaps a watering: but
come, let us leave off work for a while, and hear Mr Quibble's song.
_Quib_. My pipes are pure and clear, and my stomach is as hollow
as any trumpet in Europe.
_Dash_. Come, the song.
SONG.
AIR. _Ye Commons and Peers_.
How unhappy's the fate
To live by one's pate,
And be forced to write hackney for bread!
An author's a joke
To all manner of folk,
Wherever he pops up his head, his head,
Wherever he pops up his head.
Tho' he mount on that hack,
Old Pegasus' back,
And of Helicon drink till he burst,
Yet a curse of those streams,
Poetical dreams,
They never can quench one's thirst, &c.
Ah! how should he fly
On fancy so high,
When his limbs are in durance and hold?
Or how should he charm,
With genius so warm,
When his poor naked body's a cold, &c.
SCENE IV.--BOOKWEIGHT, DASH, QUIBBLE, BLOTPAGE.
_Book_. Fie upon it, gentlemen! what, not at your pens? Do you
consider, Mr Quibble, that it is a fortnight since your Letter to a
Friend in the Country was published? Is it not high time for an Answer
to come out? At this rate, before your Answer is printed, your Letter
will be forgot. I love to keep a controversy up warm. I have had
authors who have writ a pamphlet in the morning, answered it in the
afternoon, and answered that again at night.
_Quib_. Sir, I will be as expeditious as possible: but it is
harder to write on this side the question, because it is the wrong
side.
_Book_. Not a jot. So far on the contrary, that I have known some
authors choose it as the properest to shew their genius. But let me
see what you have produced; "With all deference to what that very
learned and most ingenious person, in his Letter to a Friend in the
Country, hath advanced." Very well, sir; for, besides that, it may
sell more of the Letter: all controversial writers should begin with
complimenting their adversaries, as prize-fighters kiss before they
engage. Let it be finished with all speed. Well, Mr Dash, have you
done that murder yet?
_Dash_. Yes, sir, the murder is done; I am only about a few moral
reflexions to place before it.
_Book_. Very well: then Jet me have the ghost finished by this
day se'nnight.
_Dash_. What sort of a ghost would you have this, sir? the last
was a pale one.
_Book_. Then let this be a bloody one. Mr Quibble, you may lay by
that life which you are about; for I hear the person is recovered, and
write me out proposals for delivering five sheets of Mr Bailey's
English Dictionary every week, till the whole be finished. If you do
not know the form, you may copy the proposals for printing Bayle's
Dictionary in the same manner. The same words will do for both.
_Enter_ INDEX.
So, Mr Index, what news with you?
_Index_. I have brought my bill, sir.
_Book_. What's here? For fitting the motto of Risum teneatis
Amici to a dozen pamphlets, at sixpence per each, six shillings; for
Omnia vincit Amor, et nos cedamus Amori, sixpence; for Difficile est
Satyram non scribere, sixpence. Hum! hum! hum!--sum total for
thirty-six Latin mottoes, eighteen shillings; ditto English, one
shilling and ninepence; ditto Greek, four--four shillings. These Greek
mottoes are excessively dear.
_Ind_. If you have them cheaper at either of the universities, I
will give you mine for nothing.
_Book_. You shall have your money immediately; and pray remember,
that I must have two Latin seditious mottoes and one Greek moral motto
for pamphlets by to-morrow morning.
_Quib_. I want two Latin sentences, sir--one for page the fourth
in the praise of loyalty, and another for page the tenth in praise of
liberty and property.
_Dash_. The ghost would become a motto very well if you would
bestow one on him.
_Book_. Let me have them all.
_Ind_. Sir, I shall provide them. Be pleased to look on that,
sir, and print me five hundred proposals and as many receipts.
_Book_. "Proposals for printing by subscription a New Translation
of Cicero Of the Nature of the Gods, and his Tusculan Questions, by
Jeremy Index, Esq." I am sorry you have undertaken this, for it
prevents a design of mine.
_Ind_. Indeed, sir, it does not; for you see all of the book that
I ever intend to publish. It is only a handsome way of asking one's
friends for a guinea.
_Book_. Then you have not translated a word of it, perhaps.
_Ind_. Not a single syllable.
_Book_. Well, you shall have your proposals forthwith: but I
desire you would be a little more reasonable in your bills for the
future, or I shall deal with you no longer; for I have a certain
fellow of a college, who offers to furnish me with second-hand mottoes
out of the Spectator for twopence each.
_Ind_. Sir, I only desire to live by my goods; and I hope you
will be pleased to allow some difference between a neat fresh piece,
piping hot out of the classicks, and old threadbare worn-out stuff
that has past through every pedant's mouth and been as common at the
universities as their whores.
SCENE V.--BOOKWEIGHT, DASH, QUIBBLE, BLOTPAGE, SCARECROW.
_Scare_. Sir, I have brought you a libel against the ministry.
_Book_. Sir, I shall not take anything against them;--for I have
two in the press already. [_Aside_.
_Scare_. Then, sir, I have an Apology in defence of them.
_Book_. That I shall not meddle with neither; they don't sell so
well.
_Scare_. I have a translation of Virgil's Aeneid, with notes on
it, if we can agree about the price.
_Book_. Why, what price would you have?
_Scare_. You shall read it first, otherwise how will you know the
value?
_Book_. No, no, sir, I never deal that way--a poem is a poem, and
a pamphlet a pamphlet with me. Give me a good handsome large volume,
with a full promising title-page at the head of it, printed on a good
paper and letter, the whole well bound and gilt, and I'll warrant its
selling. You have the common error of authors, who think people buy
books to read. No, no, books are only bought to furnish libraries, as
pictures and glasses, and beds and chairs, are for other rooms. Look
ye, sir, I don't like your title-page: however, to oblige a young
beginner, I don't care if I do print it at my own expence.
_Scare_. But pray, sir, at whose expence shall I eat?
_Book_. At whose? Why, at mine, sir, at mine. I am as great a
friend to learning as the Dutch are to trade: no one can want bread
with me who will earn it; therefore, sir, if you please to take your
seat at my table, here will be everything necessary provided for you:
good milk porridge, very often twice a day, which is good wholesome
food and proper for students; a translator too is what I want at
present, my last being in Newgate for shop-lifting. The rogue had a
trick of translating out of the shops as well as the languages.
_Scare_. But I am afraid I am not qualified for a translator, for
I understand no language but my own.
_Book_. What, and translate Virgil?
_Scare_. Alas! I translated him out of Dryden.
_Book_. Lay by your hat, sir--lay by your hat, and take your seat
immediately. Not qualified!--thou art as well versed in thy trade as
if thou hadst laboured in my garret these ten years. Let me tell you,
friend, you will have more occasion for invention than learning
here. You will be obliged to translate books out of all languages,
especially French, that were never printed in any language whatsoever.
_Scare_. Your trade abounds in mysteries.
_Book_. The study of bookselling is as difficult as the law: and
there are as many tricks in the one as the other. Sometimes we give a
foreign name to our own labours, and sometimes we put our names to the
labours of others. Then, as the lawyers have John-a-Nokes and
Tom-a-Stiles, so we have Messieurs Moore near St Paul's and Smith
near the Royal Exchange.
SCENE VI.--_To them_, LUCKLESS.
_Luck_. Mr Bookweight, your servant. Who can form to himself an
idea more amiable than of a man at the head of so many patriots
working for the benefit of their country.
_Book_. Truly, sir, I believe it is an idea more agreeable to you
than that of a gentleman in the Crown-office paying thirty or forty
guineas for abusing an honest tradesman.
_Luck_. Pshaw! that was only jocosely done, and a man who lives
by wit must not be angry at a jest.
_Book_. Look ye, sir, if you have a mind to compromise the
matter, and have brought me any money--
_Luck_. Hast thou been in thy trade so long, and talk of money to
a modern author? You might as well have talked Latin or Greek to
him. I have brought you paper, sir.
_Book_. That is not bringing me money, I own. Have you brought me
an opera?
_Luck_. You may call it an opera if you will, but I call it a
puppet-show.
_Book_. A puppet-show!
_Luck_. Ay, a puppet show; and is to be played this night at
Drury-lane playhouse.
_Book_. A puppet-show in a playhouse!
_Luck_. Ay, why, what have been all the playhouses a long while
but puppet-shows?
_Book_. Why, I don't know but it may succeed; at least if we can
make out a tolerable good title-page: so, if you will walk in, if I
can make a bargain with you I will. Gentlemen, you may go to dinner.
SCENE VII.--_Enter_ JACK-PUDDING, Drummer, Mob.
_Jack-P_. This is to give notice to all gentlemen, ladies, and
others, that at the Theatre Royal in Drury-lane, this evening, will be
performed the whole puppet-show called the Pleasures of the Town; in
which will be shewn the whole court of nonsense, with abundance of
singing, dancing, and several other entertainments: also the comical
and diverting humours of Some-body and No-body; Punch and his wife
Joan to be performed by figures, some of them six foot high. God save
the King.
[_Drum beats_.
SCENE VIII.--WITMORE _with a paper, meeting_ LUCKLESS.
_Wit_. Oh! Luckless, I am overjoyed to meet you; here, take this
paper, and you will be discouraged from writing, I warrant you.
_Luck_. What is it?--Oh! one of my play-bills.
_Wit_. One of thy play-bills!
_Luck_. Even so--I have taken the advice you gave me this
morning.
_Wit_. Explain.
_Luck_. Why, I had some time since given this performance of mine
to be rehearsed, and the actors were all perfect in their parts; but
we happened to differ about some particulars, and I had a design to
have given it over; 'till having my play refused by Marplay, I sent
for the managers of the other house in a passion, joined issue with
them, and this very evening it is to be acted.
_Wit_. Well, I wish you success.
_Luck_. Where are you going?
_Wit_. Anywhere but to hear you damned, which I must, was I to go
to your puppet-show.
_Luck_. Indulge me in this trial; and I assure thee, if it be
successless, it shall be the last.
_Wit_. On that condition I will; but should the torrent run
against you, I shall be a fashionable friend and hiss with the rest.
_Luck_. No, a man who could do so unfashionable and so generous a
thing as Mr Witmore did this morning----
_Wit_. Then I hope you will return it, by never mentioning it to
me more. I will now to the pit.
_Luck_. And I behind the scenes.
SCENE IX.--LUCKLESS, HARRIOT.
_Luck_. Dear Harriot!
_Har_. I was going to the playhouse to look after you--I am
frightened out of my wits--I have left my mother at home with the
strangest sort of man, who is inquiring after you: he has raised a mob
before the door by the oddity of his appearance; his dress is like
nothing I ever saw, and he talks of kings, and Bantam, and the
strangest stuff.
_Luck_. What the devil can he be?
_Har_. One of your old acquaintance, I suppose, in disguise--one
of his majesty's officers with his commission in his pocket, I warrant
him.
_Luck_. Well, but have you your part perfect?
_Har_. I had, unless this fellow hath frightened it out of my
head again; but I am afraid I shall play it wretchedly.
_Luck_. Why so?
_Har_. I shall never have assurance enough to go through with it,
especially if they should hiss me.
_Luck_. Oh! your mask will keep you in countenance, and as for
hissing, you need not fear it. The audience are generally so
favourable to young beginners: but hist, here is your mother and she
has seen us. Adieu, my dear, make what haste you can to the playhouse.
[_Exit_.
SCENE X.--HARRIOT, MONEYWOOD.
_Har_. I wish I could avoid her, for I suppose we shall have an
alarum.
_Money_. So, so, very fine: always together, always
caterwauling. How like a hangdog he stole off; and it's well for him
he did, for I should have rung such a peal in his ears.--There's a
friend of his at my house would be very glad of his company, and I
wish it was in my power to bring them together.
_Har_. You would not surely be so barbarous.
_Money_. Barbarous! ugh! You whining, puling fool! Hussey, you
have not a drop of my blood in you. What, you are in love, I suppose?
_Har_. If I was, madam, it would be no crime,
_Money_. Yes, madam, but it would, and a folly too. No woman of
sense was ever in love with anything but a man's pocket. What, I
suppose he has filled your head with a pack of romantick stuff of
streams and dreams, and charms and arms. I know this is the stuff they
all run on with, and so run into our debts, and run away with our
daughters. Come, confess; are not you two to live in a wilderness
together on love? Ah! thou fool! thou wilt find he will pay thee in
love just as he has paid me in money. If thou wert resolved to go
a-begging, why did you not follow the camp? There, indeed, you might
have carried a knapsack; but here you will have no knapsack to
carry. There, indeed, you might have had a chance of burying half a
score husbands in a campaign; whereas a poet is a long-lived animal;
you have but one chance of burying him, and that is, starving him.
_Har_. Well, madam, and I would sooner starve with the man I love
than ride in a coach and six with him I hate: and, as for his passion,
you will not make me suspect that, for he hath given me such proofs
on't.
_Money_. Proofs! I shall die. Has he given you proofs of love?
_Har_. All that any modest woman can require.
_Money_. If he has given you all a modest woman can require, I am
afraid he has given you more than a modest woman should take: because
he has been so good a lodger, I suppose I shall have some more of the
family to keep. It is probable I shall live to see half a dozen
grandsons of mine in Grub-street.
SCENE XI.--MONEYWOOD, HARRIOT, JACK.
_Jack_. Oh, madam! the man whom you took for a bailiff is
certainly some great man; he has a vast many jewels and other fine
things about him; he offered me twenty guineas to shew him my master,
and has given away so much money among the chairmen, that some folks
believe he intends to stand member of parliament for Westminster.
_Money_. Nay, then, I am sure he is worth inquiring into. So,
d'ye hear, sirrah, make as much haste as you can before me, and desire
him to part with no more money till I come.
_Har_. So, now my mother is in pursuit of money, I may securely
go in pursuit of my lover: and I am mistaken, good mamma, if e'en you
would not think that the better pursuit of the two.
In generous love transporting raptures lie,
Which age, with all its treasures, cannot buy.
THE
TRAGEDY OF TRAGEDIES;
OR, THE
LIFE AND DEATH OF TOM THUMB
THE GREAT.
WITH THE ANNOTATIONS OF H. SCRIBLERUS
SECUNDUS
FIRST ACTED IN 1730, AND ALTERED IN 1731.
H. SCRIBLERUS SECUNDUS,
HIS PREFACE.
THE town hath seldom been more divided in its opinion than concerning
the merit of the following scenes. While some publickly affirmed that
no author could produce so fine a piece but Mr P----, others have with
as much vehemence insisted that no one could write anything so bad but
Mr F----.
Nor can we wonder at this dissension about its merit, when the learned
would have not unanimously decided even the very nature of this
tragedy. For though most of the universities in Europe have honoured
it with the name of "Egregium et maximi pretii opus, tragoediis tam
antiquis quam novis longe anteponendum;" nay, Dr B---- hath
pronounced, "Citius Maevii Aeneadem quam Scribleri istrus tragoediam
hanc crediderium, cujus autorem Senecam ipsum tradidisse haud
dubitarim:" and the great professor Burman hath styled Tom Thumb
"Heroum omnium tragicorum facile principem:" nay, though it hath,
among other languages, been translated into Dutch, and celebrated with
great applause at Amsterdam (where burlesque never came) by the title
of Mynheer Vander Thumb, the burgomasters receiving it with that
reverent and silent attention which becometh an audience at a deep
tragedy. Notwithstanding all this, there have not been wanting some
who have represented these scenes in a ludicrous light; and Mr D----
hath been heard to say, with some concern, that he wondered a tragical
and Christian nation would permit a representation on its theatre so
visibly designed to ridicule and extirpate everything that is great
and solemn among us.
This learned critick and his followers were led into so great an error
by that surreptitious and piratical copy which stole last year into
the world; with what injustice and prejudice to our author will be
acknowledged, I hope, by every one who shall happily peruse this
genuine and original copy. Nor can I help remarking, to the great
praise of our author, that, however imperfect the former was, even
that faint resemblance of the true Tom Thumb contained sufficient
beauties to give it a run of upwards of forty nights to the politest
audiences. But, notwithstanding that applause which it received from
all the best judges, it was as severely censured by some few bad ones,
and, I believe rather maliciously than ignorantly, reported to have
been intended a burlesque on the loftiest parts of tragedy, and
designed to banish what we generally call fine things from the stage.
Now, if I can set my country right in an affair of this importance, I
shall lightly esteem any labour which it may cost. And this I the
rather undertake, first, as it is indeed in some measure incumbent on
me to vindicate myself from that surreptitious copy before mentioned,
published by some ill-meaning people under my name; secondly, as
knowing myself more capable of doing justice to our author than any
other man, as I have given myself more pains to arrive at a thorough
understanding of this little piece, having for ten years together read
nothing else; in which time, I think, I may modestly presume, with the
help of my English dictionary, to comprehend all the meanings of every
word in it.
But should any error of my pen awaken Clariss. Bentleium to enlighten
the world with his annotations on our author, I shall not think that
the least reward or happiness arising to me from these my endeavours.
I shall waive at present what hath caused such feuds in the learned
world, whether this piece was originally written by Shakspeare, though
certainly that, were it true, must add a considerable share to its
merit, especially with such who are so generous as to buy and commend
what they never read, from an implicit faith in the author only: a
faith which our age abounds in as much as it can be called deficient
in any other.
Let it suffice, that THE TRAGEDY OF TRAGEDIES; or, THE LIFE AND DEATH
OF TOM THUMB, was written in the reign of queen Elizabeth. Nor can the
objection made by Mr D----, that the tragedy must then have been
antecedent to the history, have any weight, when we consider that,
though the HISTORY OF TOM THUMB, printed by and for Edward M----r, at
the Looking-glass on London-bridge, be of a later date, still must we
suppose this history to have been transcribed from some other, unless
we suppose the writer thereof to be inspired: a gift very faintly
contended for by the writers of our age. As to this history's not
bearing the stamp of second, third, or fourth edition, I see but
little in that objection; editions being very uncertain lights to
judge of books by; and perhaps Mr M----r may have joined twenty
editions in one, as Mr C----l hath ere now divided one into twenty.
Nor doth the other argument, drawn from the little care our author
hath taken to keep up to the letter of this history, carry any greater
force. Are there not instances of plays wherein the history is so
perverted, that we can know the heroes whom they celebrate by no other
marks than their names? nay, do we not find the same character placed
by different poets in such different lights, that we can discover not
the least sameness, or even likeness, in the features? The Sophonisba
of Mairet and of Lee is a tender, passionate, amorous mistress of
Massinissa: Corneille and Mr Thomson give her no other passion but the
love of her country, and make her as cool in her affection to
Massinissa as to Syphax. In the two latter she resembles the character
of queen Elizabeth; in the two former she is the picture of Mary queen
of Scotland. In short, the one Sophonisba is as different from the
other as the Brutus of Voltaire is from the Marius, jun., of Otway, or
as the Minerva is from the Venus of the ancients.
Let us now proceed to a regular examination of the tragedy before us,
in which I shall treat separately of the Fable, the Moral, the
Characters, the Sentiments, and the Diction. And first of the
Fable; which I take to be the most simple imaginable; and, to use the
words of an eminent author, "one, regular, and uniform, not charged
with a multiplicity of incidents, and yet affording several
revolutions of fortune, by which the passions may be excited, varied,
and driven to their full tumult of emotion."--Nor is the action of
this tragedy less great than uniform. The spring of all is the love
of Tom Thumb for Huncamunca; which caused the quarrel between their
majesties in the first act; the passion of Lord Grizzle in the second;
the rebellion, fall of Lord Grizzle and Glumdalca, devouring of Tom
Thumb by the cow, and that bloody catastrophe, in the third.
Nor is the Moral of this excellent tragedy less noble than the Fable;
it teaches these two instructive lessons, viz., that human happiness
is exceeding transient; and that death is the certain end of all men:
the former whereof is inculcated by the fatal end of Tom Thumb; the
latter, by that of all the other personages.
The Characters are, I think, sufficiently described in the dramatis
personae; and I believe we shall find few plays where greater care is
taken to maintain them throughout, and to preserve in every speech
that characteristical mark which distinguishes them from each
other. "But (says Mr D----) how well doth the character of Tom Thumb,
whom we must call the hero of this tragedy, if it hath any hero, agree
with the precepts of Aristotle, who defineth 'Tragedy to be the
imitation of a short but perfect action, containing a just greatness
in itself'? &c. What greatness can be in a fellow whom history
relateth to have been no higher than a span?" This gentleman seemeth
to think, with serjeant Kite, that the greatness of a man's soul is in
proportion to that of his body; the contrary of which is affirmed by
our English physiognomical writers. Besides, if I understand Aristotle
right, he speaketh only of the greatness of the action, and not of the
person.
As for the Sentiments and the Diction, which now only remain to be
spoken to; I thought I could afford them no stronger justification
than by producing parallel passages out of the best of our English
writers. Whether this sameness of thought and expression, which I
have quoted from them, proceeded from an agreement in their way of
thinking, or whether they have borrowed from our author, I leave the
reader to determine. I shall adventure to affirm this of the
Sentiments of our author, that they are generally the most familiar
which I have ever met with, and at the same time delivered with the
highest dignity of phrase; which brings me to speak of his
diction. Here I shall only beg one postulatum, viz., That the greatest
perfection of the language of a tragedy is, that it is not to be
understood; which granted (as I think it must be), it will necessarily
follow that the only way to avoid this is by being too high or too low
for the understanding, which will comprehend everything within its
reach. Those two extremities of stile Mr Dryden illustrates by the
familiar image of two inns, which I shall term the aerial and the
subterrestrial.
Horace goes farther, and sheweth when it is proper to call at one of
these inns, and when at the other:
Telephus et Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque,
Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba.
That he approveth of the sesquipedalia verba is plain; for, had not
Telephus and Peleus used this sort of diction in prosperity, they
could not have dropt it in adversity. The aerial inn, therefore (says
Horace), is proper only to be frequented by princes and other great
men in the highest affluence of fortune; the subterrestrial is
appointed for the entertainment of the poorer sort of people only,
whom Horace advises,
--dolere sermone pedestri.
The true meaning of both which citations is, that bombast is the
proper language for joy, and doggrel for grief; the latter of which is
literally implied in the sermo pedestris, as the former is in the
sesquipedalia verba.
Cicero recommendeth the former of these: "Quid est tarn furiosum vel
tragicum quam verborum sonitus inanis, nulla subjecta sententia neque
scientia." What can be so proper for tragedy as a set of big sounding
words, so contrived together as to convey no meaning? which I shall
one day or other prove to be the sublime of Longinus. Ovid declareth
absolutely for the latter inn:
Omne genus scripti gravitate tragoedia vincit.
Tragedy hath, of all writings, the greatest share in the bathos; which
is the profound of Scriblerus.
I shall not presume to determine which of these two stiles be properer
for tragedy. It sufficeth, that our author excelleth in both. He is
very rarely within sight through the whole play, either rising higher
than the eye of your understanding can soar, or sinking lower than it
careth to stoop. But here it may perhaps be observed that I have given
more frequent instances of authors who have imitated him in the
sublime than in the contrary. To which I answer, first, Bombast being
properly a redundancy of genius, instances of this nature occur in
poets whose names do more honour to our author than the writers in the
doggrel, which proceeds from a cool, calm, weighty way of
thinking. Instances whereof are most frequently to be found in authors
of a lower class. Secondly, That the works of such authors are
difficultly found at all. Thirdly, That it is a very hard task to read
them, in order to extract these flowers from them. And lastly, it is
very difficult to transplant them at all; they being like some flowers
of a very nice nature, which will flourish in no soil but their own:
for it is easy to transcribe a thought, but not the want of one. The
EARL OF ESSEX, for instance, is a little garden of choice rarities,
whence you can scarce transplant one line so as to preserve its
original beauty. This must account to the reader for his missing the
names of several of his acquaintance, which he had certainly found
here, had I ever read their works; for which, if I have not a just
esteem, I can at least say with Cicero, "Quae non contemno, quippe quae
nunquam legerim." However, that the reader may meet with due
satisfaction in this point, I have a young commentator from the
university, who is reading over all the modern tragedies, at five
shillings a dozen, and collecting all that they have stole from our
author, which shall be shortly added as an appendix to this work.
DRAMATIS PERSONAe.
MEN.
_King Arthur_, a passionate sort of king, |
husband to queen Dollallolla, of whom he |
stands a little in fear; father to Huncamunca,| Mr MULLART.
whom he is very fond of, and in love with |
Glumdalca. |
_Tom Thumb the Great_, a little hero |
with a great soul, something violent in his | YOUNG
temper, which is a little abated by his | VERHUYCK.
love for Huncamunca. |
_Ghost of Gaffer Thumb_, a whimsical sort | Mr LACY.
of ghost. |
_Lord Grizzle_, extremely zealous for the |
liberty of the subject, very cholerick in his | Mr JONES.
temper, and in love with Huncamunca. |
_Merlin_, a conjurer, and in some sort | Mr HALLAM.
father to Tom Thumb. |
_Noodle, Doodle,_ courtiers in place, and | Mr REYNOLDS,
consequently of that party that is uppermost | Mr WATHAN.
_Foodle_, a courtier that is out of place, |
and consequently of that party that is | Mr AYRES.
undermost |
_Bailiff, and Follower,_ of the party of | Mr PETERSON,
the plaintiff. | Mr HICKS.
_Parson_, of the side of the church. | Mr WATSON.
WOMEN.
_Queen Dollallolla_, wife to king Arthur, |
and mother to Huncamunca, a woman intirely | Mrs MULLART.
faultless, saving that she is a little given |
to drink, a little too much a virago towards |
her husband, and in love with Tom Thumb. |
_The Princess Huncamunca_, daughter to |
their majesties king Arthur and queen |
Dollallolla, of a very sweet, gentle, and | Mrs JONES.
amorous disposition, equally in love with |
Lord Grizzle and Tom Thumb, and desirous to |
be married to them both. |
_Glumdalca_, of the giants, a captive |
queen, beloved by the king, but in love with | Mrs DOVE.
Tom Thumb. |
_Cleora, Mustacha,_ maids of honour in love with Noodle and
Doodle.--_Courtiers, Guards, Rebels, Drums, Trumpets,
Thunder and Lightning_.
SCENE, the court of king Arthur, and a plain thereabouts.
ACT I.
SCENE I.--_The Palace_. DOODLE, NOODLE.
_Doodle_. Sure such a [1]day as this was never seen!
The sun himself, on this auspicious day,
Shines like a beau in a new birth-day suit:
This down the seams embroidered, that the beams.
All nature wears one universal grin.
[Footnote 1: Corneille recommends some very remarkable day wherein to
fix the action of a tragedy. This the best of our tragical writers
have understood to mean a day remarkable for the serenity of the sky,
or what we generally call a fine summer's day; so that, according to
this their exposition, the same months are proper for tragedy which
are proper for pastoral. Most of our celebrated English tragedies, as
Cato, Mariamne, Tamerlane, &c., begin with their observations on the
morning. Lee seems to have come the nearest to this beautiful
description of our author's:
The morning dawns with an unwonted crimson,
The flowers all odorous seem, the garden birds
Sing louder, and the laughing sun ascends
The gaudy earth with an unusual brightness;
All nature smiles.--_Caes. Borg_.
Massinissa, in the New Sophonisba, is also a favourite of the sun:
------The sun too seems
As conscious of my joy, with broader eye
To look abroad the world, and all things smile
Like Sophonisba.
Memnon, in the Persian Princess, makes the sun decline rising, that he
may not peep on objects which would profane his brightness:
----The morning rises slow,
And all those ruddy streaks that used to paint
The day's approach are lost in clouds, as if
The horrors of the night had sent 'em back,
To warn the sun he should not leave the sea,
To peep, &c.
]
_Nood_. This day, O Mr Doodle, is a day
Indeed!--A day, [1] we never saw before.
The mighty [2] Thomas Thumb victorious comes;
Millions of giants crowd his chariot wheels,
[3] Giants! to whom the giants in Guildhall
Are infant dwarfs. They frown, and foam, and roar,
While Thumb, regardless of their noise, rides on.
So some cock-sparrow in a farmer's yard,
Hops at the head of an huge flock of turkeys.
[Footnote 1: This line is highly conformable to the beautiful
simplicity of the antients. It hath been copied by almost every
modern.
Not to be is not to be in woe.--_State of Innocence_.
Love is not sin but where 'tis sinful love.--_Don Sebastian_.
Nature is nature, Laelius.--_Sophonisba_.
Men are but men, we did not make ourselves.--_Revenge_.
]
[Footnote 2: Dr B--y reads, The mighty Tall-mast Thumb. Mr D--s, The
mighty Thumbing Thumb. Mr T--d reads, Thundering. I think Thomas more
agreeable to the great simplicity so apparent in our author.]
[Footnote 3: That learned historian Mr S--n, in the third number of
his criticism on our author, takes great pains to explode this
passage. "It is," says he, "difficult to guess what giants are here
meant, unless the giant Despair in the Pilgrim's Progress, or the
giant Greatness in the Royal Villain; for I have heard of no other
sort of giants in the reign of king Arthur." Petrus Burmannus makes
three Tom Thumbs, one whereof he supposes to have been the same person
whom the Greeks called Hercules; and that by these giants are to be
understood the Centaurs slain by that hero. Another Tom Thumb he
contends to have been no other than the Hermes Trismegistus of the
antients. The third Tom Thumb he places under the reign of king
Arthur; to which third Tom Thumb, says he, the actions of the other
two were attributed. Now, though I know that this opinion is supported
by an assertion of Justus Lipsius, "Thomam illum Thumbum non alium
quam Herculem fuisse satis constat," yet shall I venture to oppose one
line of Mr Midwinter against them all:
In Arthur's court Tom Thumb did live.
"But then," says Dr B--y, "if we place Tom Thumb in the court of king
Arthur, it will be proper to place that court out of Britain, where no
giants were ever heard of." Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, is of another
opinion, where, describing Albion, he says,
------Far within a savage nation dwelt
Of hideous giants.
And in the same canto:
Then Elfar, with two brethren giants had,
The one of which had two heads------
The other three.
Risum teneatis, amici.
]
_Dood_. When Goody Thumb first brought this Thomas forth,
The Genius of our land triumphant reign'd;
Then, then, O Arthur! did thy Genius reign.
_Nood_. They tell me it is [1]whisper'd in the books
Of all our sages, that this mighty hero,
By Merlin's art begot, hath not a bone
Within his skin, but is a lump of gristle.
[Footnote 1: "To whisper in books," says Mr D--s, "is arrant nonsense."
I am afraid this learned man does not sufficiently understand the
extensive meaning of the word whisper. If he had rightly understood
what is meant by the "senses whisp'ring the soul," in the Persian
Princess, or what "whisp'ring like winds" is in Aurengzebe, or like
thunder in another author, he would have understood this. Emmeline in
Dryden sees a voice, but she was born blind, which is an excuse
Panthea cannot plead in Cyrus, who hears a sight:
--------Your description will surpass
All fiction, painting, or dumb shew of horror,
That ever ears yet heard, or eyes beheld.
When Mr D--s understands these, he will understand whispering in
books.
]
_Dood_. Then 'tis a gristle of no mortal kind;
Some God, my Noodle, stept into the place
Of Gaffer Thumb, and more than [1]half begot
This mighty Tom.
[Footnote 1: Some ruffian stept into his father's place, And more than
half begot him.--_Mary Queen of Scots_]
_Nood_.--[1] Sure he was sent express
From Heaven to be the pillar of our state.
Though small his body be, so very small
A chairman's leg is more than twice as large,
Yet is his soul like any mountain big;
And as a mountain once brought forth a mouse,
[2] So doth this mouse contain a mighty mountain.
[Footnote 1: For Ulamar seems sent express from Heaven, To civilize
this rugged Indian clime.--_Liberty Asserted_]
[Footnote 2: "Omne majus continet in se minus, sed minus non in se
majus continere potest," says Scaliger in Thumbo. I suppose he would
have cavilled at these beautiful lines in the Earl of Essex:
----Thy most inveterate soul,
That looks through the foul prison of thy body.
And at those of Dryden:
The palace is without too well design'd;
Conduct me in, for I will view thy mind.--_Aurengzebe_.
]
_Dood_. Mountain indeed! So terrible his name,
[1]The giant nurses frighten children with it,
And cry Tom Thumb is come, and if you are
Naughty, will surely take the child away.
[Footnote 1: Mr Banks hath copied this almost verbatim:
It was enough to say, here's Essex come,
And nurses still'd their children with the fright.
--_Earl of Essex_.
]
_Nood_. But hark! [1]these trumpets speak the king's approach.
[Footnote 1: The trumpet in a tragedy is generally as much as to say,
Enter king, which makes Mr Banks, in one of his plays, call it the
trumpet's formal sound.]
_Dood_. He comes most luckily for my petition.
[_Flourish_.
SCENE II.--KING, QUEEN, GRIZZLE, NOODLE, DOODLE, FOODLE.
_King_. [1] Let nothing but a face of joy appear;
The man who frowns this day shall lose his head,
That he may have no face to frown withal.
Smile Dollallolla--Ha! what wrinkled sorrow
[2] Hangs, sits, lies, frowns upon thy knitted brow?
Whence flow those tears fast down thy blubber'd cheeks,
Like a swoln gutter, gushing through the streets?
[Footnote 1: Phraortes, in the Captives, seems to have been acquainted
with King Arthur:
Proclaim a festival for seven days' space,
Let the court shine in all its pomp and lustre,
Let all our streets resound with shouts of joy;
Let musick's care-dispelling voice be heard;
The sumptuous banquet and the flowing goblet
Shall warm the cheek and fill the heart with gladness.
Astarbe shall sit mistress of the feast.
]
[Footnote 2:
Repentance frowns on thy contracted brow.--_Sophonisba_.
Hung on his clouded brow, I mark'd despair.--_Ibid_.
--A sullen gloom
Scowls on his brow.--_Busiris_.
]
_Queen_. [1]Excess of joy, my lord, I've heard folks say,
Gives tears as certain as excess of grief.
[Footnote 1: Plato is of this opinion, and so is Mr Banks:
Behold these tears sprung from fresh pain and joy.
--_Earl of Essex_.
]
_King_. If it be so, let all men cry for joy,
[1]Till my whole court be drowned with their tears;
Nay, till they overflow my utmost land,
And leave me nothing but the sea to rule.
[Footnote 1: These floods are very frequent in the tragick authors:
Near to some murmuring brook I'll lay me down,
Whose waters, if they should too shallow flow,
My tears shall swell them up till I will drown.
--_Lee's Sophonisba_.
Pouring forth tears at such a lavish rate,
That were the world on fire they might have drown'd
The wrath of heaven, and quench'd the mighty ruin.
--_Mithridates_.
One author changes the waters of grief to those of joy:
----These tears, that sprung from tides of grief,
Are now augmented to a flood of joy.--_Cyrus the Great_.
Another:
Turns all the streams of heat, and makes them flow
In pity's channel.--_Royal Villain_.
One drowns himself:
----Pity like a torrent pours me down,
Now I am drowning all within a deluge.--_Anna Sullen_.
Cyrus drowns the whole world:
Our swelling grief
Shall melt into a deluge, and the world
Shall drown in tears.--_Cyrus the Great_.
]
_Dood_. My liege, I a petition have here got.
_King_. Petition me no petitions, sir, to-day:
Let other hours be set apart for business.
To-day it is our pleasure to be [1]drunk.
And this our queen shall be as drunk as we.
[Footnote 1: An expression vastly beneath the dignity of tragedy, says
Mr D--s, yet we find the word he cavils at in the mouth of
Mithridates less properly used, and applied to a more terrible
idea:
I would be drunk with death.--_Mithridates_.
The author of the New Sophonisba taketh hold of this monosyllable, and
uses it pretty much to the same purpose:
The Carthaginian sword with Roman blood
Was drunk.
I would ask Mr D--s which gives him the best idea, a drunken king, or
a drunken sword?
Mr Tate dresses up King Arthur's resolution in heroick:
Merry, my lord, o' th' captain's humour right,
I am resolved to be dead drunk to-night.
Lee also uses this charming word:
Love's the drunkenness of the mind.--_Gloriana_.
]
_Queen_. (Though I already[1] half seas over am)
If the capacious goblet overflow
With arrack punch----'fore George! I'll see it out:
Of rum and brandy I'll not taste a drop.
[Footnote 1: Dryden hath borrowed this, and applied it improperly:
I'm half seas o'er in death.--_Cleomenes_
]
_King_. Though rack, in punch, eight shillings be a quart,
And rum and brandy be no more than six,
Rather than quarrel you shall have your will.
[_Trumpets_.
But, ha! the warrior comes--the great Tom Thumb,
The little hero, giant-killing boy,
Preserver of my kingdom, is arrived.
SCENE III.--TOM THUMB _to them, with_ Officers, Prisoners,
_and_ Attendants.
King. [1] Oh! welcome most, most welcome to my arms.
What gratitude can thank away the debt
Your valour lays upon me?
[Footnote 1: This figure is in great use among the tragedians:
'Tis therefore, therefore 'tis.--_Victim_.
I long, repent, repent, and long again.--_Busiris_.
]
_Queen_.----------[1] Oh! ye gods! [_Aside_.
[Footnote 1: A tragical exclamation.]
_Thumb_. When I'm not thank'd at all, I'm thank'd enough.
[1] I've done my duty, and I've done no more,
[Footnote 1: This line is copied verbatim in the Captives.]
_Queen_. Was ever such a godlike creature seen? [_Aside_.
_King_. Thy modesty's a [1]candle to thy merit,
It shines itself, and shews thy merit too.
But say, my boy, where didst thou leave the giants?
[Footnote 1: We find a candlestick for this candle in two celebrated
authors:
------Each star withdraws
His golden head, and burns within the socket.--_Nero_.
A soul grown old and sunk into the socket.--_Sebastian_.
]
_Thumb_. My liege, without the castle gates they stand,
The castle gates too low for their admittance.
_King_. What look they like?
_Thumb_. Like nothing but themselves.
_Queen_. [1]And sure thou art like nothing but
thyself. [_Aside_.
[Footnote 1: This simile occurs very frequently among the dramatic
writers of both kinds.]
_King_. Enough! the vast idea fills my soul.
I see them--yes, I see them now before me:
The monstrous, ugly, barb'rous sons of whores.
But ha! what form majestick strikes our eyes?
[1]So perfect, that it seems to have been drawn
By all the gods in council: so fair she is,
That surely at her birth the council paused,
And then at length cry'd out, This is a woman!
[Footnote 1: Mr Lee hath stolen this thought from our author:
This perfect face, drawn by the gods in council,
Which they were long a making.--_Luc. Jun. Brut_.
--At his birth the heavenly council paused,
And then at last cry'd out, This is a man!
Dryden hath improved this hint to the utmost perfection:
So perfect, that the very gods who form'd you wonder'd
At their own skill, and cry'd, A lucky hit
Has mended our design! Their envy hindered,
Or you had been immortal, and a pattern,
When Heaven would work for ostentation sake,
To copy out again.--_All for Love_.
Banks prefers the works of Michael Angelo to that of the gods:
A pattern for the gods to make a man by,
Or Michael Angelo to form a statue.
]
_Thumb_. Then were the gods mistaken--she is not
A woman, but a giantess----whom we,
[1] With much ado, have made a shift to hawl
Within the town:[2] for she is by a foot
Shorter than all her subject giants were.
[Footnote 1: It is impossible, says Mr W----, sufficiently to admire
this natural easy line.]
[Footnote 2: This tragedy, which in most points resembles the
ancients, differs from them in this--that it assigns the same honour
to lowness of stature which they did to height. The gods and heroes in
Homer and Virgil are continually described higher by the head than
their followers, the contrary of which is observed by our author. In
short, to exceed on either side is equally admirable; and a man of
three foot is as wonderful a sight as a man of nine.]
_Glum_. We yesterday were both a queen and wife,
One hundred thousand giants own'd our sway,
Twenty whereof were married to ourself.
_Queen_. Oh! happy state of giantism where husbands
Like mushrooms grow, whilst hapless we are forced
To be content, nay, happy thought, with one.
_Glum_. But then to lose them all in one black day,
That the same sun which, rising, saw me wife
To twenty giants, setting should behold
Me widow'd of them all.----[1]My worn-out heart,
That ship, leaks fast, and the great heavy lading,
My soul, will quickly sink.
[Footnote 1:
My blood leaks fast, and the great heavy lading
My soul will quickly sink.--_Mithridates_.
My soul is like a ship.--_Injured Love_.
]
_Queen_. Madam, believe
I view your sorrows with a woman's eye:
But learn to bear them with what strength you may,
To-morrow we will have our grenadiers
Drawn out before you, and you then shall choose
What husbands you think fit.
_Glum_. [1]Madam, I am
Your most obedient and most humble servant.
[Footnote 1: This well-bred line seems to be copied in the Persian
Princess:--
To be your humblest and most faithful slave.
]
_King_. Think, mighty princess, think this court your own,
Nor think the landlord me, this house my inn;
Call for whate'er you will, you'll nothing pay.
[1]I feel a sudden pain within my breast,
Nor know I whether it arise from love
Or only the wind-cholick. Time must shew.
O Thumb! what do we to thy valour owe!
Ask some reward, great as we can bestow.
[Footnote 1: This doubt of the king puts me in mind of a passage in the
Captives, where the noise of feet is mistaken for the rustling of
leaves.
------Methinks I hear
The sound of feet:
No; 'twas the wind that shook yon cypress boughs.
]
_Thumb_. [1] I ask not kingdoms, I can conquer those;
I ask not money, money I've enough;
For what I've done, and what I mean to do,
For giants slain, and giants yet unborn,
Which I will slay---if this be called a debt,
Take my receipt in full: I ask but this,--
[2] To sun myself in Huncamunca's eyes.
[Footnote 1: Mr Dryden seems to have had this passage in his eye in the
first page of Love Triumphant.]
[Footnote 2: Don Carlos, in the Revenge, suns himself in the charms of
his mistress:
While in the lustre of her charms I lay.
]
_King_. Prodigious bold request. [_Aside_.
_Queen_. --------[1] Be still, my soul. [_Aside_.
[Footnote 1: A tragical phrase much in use.]
_Thumb_. [1]My heart is at the threshold of your mouth,
And waits its answer there.--Oh! do not frown.
I've try'd to reason's tune to tune my soul,
But love did overwind and crack the string.
Though Jove in thunder had cry'd out, YOU SHAN'T,
I should have loved her still--for oh, strange fate,
Then when I loved her least I loved her most!
[Footnote 1: This speech hath been taken to pieces by several tragical
authors, who seem to have rifled it, and shared its beauties among
them.
My soul waits at the portal of thy breast,
To ravish from thy lips the welcome news.--_Anna Bullen_.
My soul stands list'ning at my ears.--_Cyrus the Great_.
Love to his tune my jarring heart would bring,
But reason overwinds, and cracks the string.--_D. of Guise_.
-------I should have loved,
Though Jove, in muttering thunder, had forbid it.
--_New Sophonisba_.
And when it (_my heart_) wild resolves to love no more,
Then is the triumph of excessive love.--_Ibid_.
]
_King_. It is resolv'd--the princess is your own.
_Thumb_. Oh! [1]happy, happy, happy, happy Thumb.
[Footnote 1: Massinissa is one-fourth less happy than Tom Thumb.]
Oh! happy, happy, happy!--_Ibid_.
]
_Queen_. Consider, sir; reward your soldier's merit,
But give not Huncamunca to Tom Thumb.
_King_. Tom Thumb! Odzooks! my wide-extended realm,
Knows not a name so glorious as Tom Thumb.
Let Macedonia Alexander boast,
Let Rome her Caesars and her Scipios show,
Her Messieurs France, let Holland boast Mynheers,
Ireland her O's, her Macs let Scotland boast,
Let England boast no other than Tom Thumb.
_Queen_. Though greater yet his boasted merit was,
He shall not have my daughter, that is pos'.
_King_. Ha! sayst thou, Dollallolla?
_Queen_.---------I say he shan't.
_King_. [1]Then by our royal self we swear you lie.
[Footnote 1: No by myself.--_Anna Bullen_.]
_Queen_. [1] Who but a dog, who but a dog
Would use me as thou dost? Me, who have lain
[2] These twenty years so loving by thy side!
But I will be revenged. I'll hang myself.
Then tremble all who did this match persuade,
[3] For, riding on a cat, from high I'll fall,
And squirt down royal vengeance on you all.
[Footnote 1: ----------Who caused
This dreadful revolution in my fate.
Ulamar. Who but a dog--who but a dog?--_Liberty As_.
]
[Footnote 2: ------------A bride,
Who twenty years lay loving by your side.--_Banks_.
]
[Footnote 3: For, borne upon a cloud, from high I'll fall,
And rain down royal vengeance on you all.--_Alb. Queens_.
]
_Food_. [1]Her majesty the queen is in a passion.
[Footnote 1: An information very like this we have in the tragedy of
Love, where, Cyrus having stormed in the most violent manner, Cyaxares
observes very calmly,
Why, nephew Cyrus, you are moved.
]
_King_. [1] Be she, or be she not, I'll to the girl
And pave thy way, oh Thumb--Now by ourself,
We were indeed a pretty king of clouts
To truckle to her will--For when by force
Or art the wife her husband over-reaches,
Give him the petticoat, and her the breeches.
[Footnote 1: 'Tis in your choice.
Love me, or love me not.--_Conquest of Granada_.
]
_Thumb_. [1] Whisper ye winds, that Huncamunca's mine!
Echoes repeat, that Huncamunca's mine!
The dreadful bus'ness of the war is o'er,
And beauty, heav'nly beauty! crowns my toils!
I've thrown the bloody garment now aside
And hymeneal sweets invite my bride.
So when some chimney-sweeper all the day
Hath through dark paths pursued the sooty way,
At night to wash his hands and face he flies,
And in his t'other shirt with his Brickdusta lies.
[Footnote 1: There is not one beauty in this charming speech but what
hath been borrow'd by almost every tragick writer.
]
SCENE IV.
_Grizzle_ (_solus_.) [1] Where art thou, Grizzle? where
are now thy glories?
Where are the drums that waken thee to honour?
Greatness is a laced coat from Monmouth-street,
Which fortune lends us for a day to wear,
To-morrow puts it on another's back.
The spiteful sun but yesterday survey'd
His rival high as Saint Paul's cupola;
Now may he see me as Fleet-ditch laid low.
[Footnote 1: Mr Banks has (I wish I could not say too servilely)
imitated this of Grizzle in his Earl of Essex:
Where art thou, Essex, &c.]
SCENE V.--QUEEN, GRIZZLE.
_Queen_. [1]Teach me to scold, prodigious-minded Grizzle,
Mountain of treason, ugly as the devil,
Teach this confounded hateful mouth of mine
To spout forth words malicious as thyself,
Words which might shame all Billingsgate to speak.
[Footnote 1: The countess of Nottingham, in the Earl of Essex, is
apparently acquainted with Dollallolla.]
_Griz_. Far be it from my pride to think my tongue
Your royal lips can in that art instruct,
Wherein you so excel. But may I ask,
Without offence, wherefore my queen would scold?
_Queen_. Wherefore? Oh! blood and thunder! han't you heard
(What every corner of the court resounds)
That little Thumb will be a great man made?
_Griz_. I heard it, I confess--for who, alas!
[1] Can always stop his ears?--But would my teeth,
By grinding knives, had first been set on edge!
[Footnote 1: Grizzle was not probably possessed of that glew of which
Mr Banks speaks in his Cyrus.
I'll glew my ears to every word.
]
_Queen_. Would I had heard, at the still noon of night,
The hallalloo of fire in every street!
Odsbobs! I have a mind to hang myself,
To think I should a grandmother be made
By such a rascal!--Sure the king forgets
When in a pudding, by his mother put,
The bastard, by a tinker, on a stile
Was dropp'd.--O, good lord Grizzle! can I bear
To see him from a pudding mount the throne?
Or can, oh can, my Huncamunca bear
To take a pudding's offspring to her arms?
_Griz_. Oh horror! horror! horror! cease, my queen,
[1] Thy voice, like twenty screech-owls, wracks my
brain.
[Footnote 1: Screech-owls, dark ravens, and amphibious monsters,
Are screaming in that voice.--_Mary Queen of Scots_.
]
_Queen_. Then rouse thy spirit--we may yet prevent
This hated match.
_Griz_.--We will[1]; nor fate itself,
Should it conspire with Thomas Thumb, should cause it.
I'll swim through seas; I'll ride upon the clouds;
I'll dig the earth; I'll blow out every fire;
I'll rave; I'll rant; I'll rise; I'll rush; I'll roar;
Fierce as the man whom[2] smiling dolphins bore
From the prosaick to poetick shore.
I'll tear the scoundrel into twenty pieces.
[Footnote 1: The reader may see all the beauties of this speech in a
late ode called the Naval Lyrick.]
[Footnote 2: This epithet to a dolphin doth not give one so clear an
idea as were to be wished; a smiling fish seeming a little more
difficult to be imagined than a flying fish. Mr Dryden is of opinion
that smiling is the property of reason, and that no irrational
creature can smile:
Smiles not allow'd to beasts from reason move.
--_State of Innocence_.
]
_Queen_. Oh, no! prevent the match, but hurt him not;
For, though I would not have him have my daughter,
Yet can we kill the man that kill'd the giants?
_Griz_. I tell you, madam, it was all a trick;
He made the giants first, and then he kill'd them;
As fox-hunters bring foxes to the wood,
And then with hounds they drive them out again.
_Queen_. How! have you seen no giants? Are there not
Now, in the yard, ten thousand proper giants?
_Griz_. [1]Indeed I cannot positively tell,
But firmly do believe there is not one.
[Footnote 1: These lines are written in the same key with those in the
Earl of Essex:
Why, say'st thou so? I love thee well, indeed
I do, and thou shalt find by this 'tis true.
Or with this in Cyrus:
The most heroick mind that ever was.
And with above half of the modern tragedies.
]
_Queen_. Hence! from my sight! thou traitor, hie away;
By all my stars I thou enviest Tom Thumb.
Go, sirrah! go, [1]hie away! hie!----thou art
A setting dog: be gone.
[Footnote 1: Aristotle, in that excellent work of his which is very
justly stiled his masterpiece, earnestly recommends using the terms of
art, however coarse or even indecent they may be. Mr Tate is of the
same opinion.
_Bru_. Do not, like young hawks, fetch a course about.
Your game flies fair.
_Fra_. Do not fear it.
He answers you in your own hawking phrase.
--_Injured Love_.
I think these two great authorities are sufficient to justify
Dollallolla in the use of the phrase, "Hie away, hie!" when in the
same line she says she is speaking to a setting-dog.
]
_Griz_. Madam, I go.
Tom Thumb shall feel the vengeance you have raised.
So, when two dogs are fighting in the streets,
With a third dog one of the two dogs meets,
With angry teeth he bites him to the bone,
And this dog smarts for what that dog has done.
SCENE VI.
_Queen_ (_sola_). And whither shall I go?--Alack a day!
I love Tom Thumb--but must not tell him so;
For what's a woman when her virtue's gone?
A coat without its lace; wig out of buckle;
A stocking with a hole in't--I can't live
Without my virtue, or without Tom Thumb.
[1] Then let me weigh them in two equal scales;
In this scale put my virtue, that Tom Thumb.
Alas! Tom Thumb is heavier than my virtue.
But hold!--perhaps I may be left a widow:
This match prevented, then Tom Thumb is mine;
In that dear hope I will forget my pain.
So, when some wench to Tothill Bridewell's sent,
With beating hemp and flogging she's content;
She hopes in time to ease her present pain,
At length is free, and walks the streets again.
[Footnote 1: We meet with such another pair of scales in Dryden's King
Arthur:
Arthur and Oswald, and their different fates,
Are weighing now within the scales of heaven.
Also in Sebastian:
This hour my lot is weighing in the scales.
]
ACT II.
SCENE I.--_The street_. Bailiff, Follower.
[Footnote: Mr Rowe is generally imagined to have taken some hints from
this scene in his character of Bajazet; but as he, of all the tragick
writers, bears the least resemblance to our author in his diction, I
am unwilling to imagine he would condescend to copy him in this
particular.]
_Bail_. Come on, my trusty follower, come on;
This day discharge thy duty, and at night
A double mug of beer, and beer shall glad thee.
Stand here by me, this way must Noodle pass.
_Fol_. No more, no more, oh Bailiff! every word
Inspires my soul with virtue. Oh! I long
To meet the enemy in the street--and nab him:
To lay arresting hands upon his back,
And drag him trembling to the spunging-house.
_Bail_. There when I have him, I will spunge upon him.
Oh! glorious thought! by the sun, moon, and stars,
I will enjoy it, though it be in thought!
Yes, yes, my follower, I will enjoy it.
_Fol_. Enjoy it then some other time, for now
Our prey approaches.
_Bail_. Let us retire.
SCENE II.--TOM THUMB, NOODLE, Bailiff, Follower.
_Thumb_. Trust me, my Noodle, I am wondrous sick;
For, though I love the gentle Huncamunca,
Yet at the thought of marriage I grow pale:
For, oh!--[1] but swear thou'lt keep it ever secret,
I will unfold a tale will make thee stare.
[Footnote 1: This method of surprizing an audience, by raising their
expectation to the highest pitch, and then baulking it, hath been
practised with great success by most of our tragical authors]
_Nood_. I swear by lovely Huncamunca's charms.
_Thumb_. Then know--[1] my grandmamma hath often said,
Tom Thumb, beware of marriage.
[Footnote: Almeyda, in Sebastian, is in the same distress:
Sometimes methinks I hear the groan of ghosts,
This hollow sounds and lamentable screams;
Then, like a dying echo from afar,
My mother's voice that cries, Wed not, Almeyda;
Forewarn'd, Almeyda, marriage is thy crime.
]
_Nood_. Sir, I blush
To think a warrior, great in arms as you,
Should be affrighted by his grandmamma.
Can an old woman's empty dreams deter
The blooming hero from the virgin's arms?
Think of the joy that will your soul alarm,
When in her fond embraces clasp'd you lie,
While on her panting breast, dissolved in bliss,
You pour out all Tom Thumb in every kiss.
_Thumb_. Oh! Noodle, thou hast fired my eager soul;
Spite of my grandmother she shall be mine;
I'll hug, caress, I'll eat her up with love:
Whole days, and nights, and years shall be too short
For our enjoyment; every sun shall rise
[1] Blushing to see us in our bed together.
[Footnote: "As very well he may, if he hath any modesty in him," says
Mr D--s. The author of Busiris is extremely zealous to prevent the
sun's blushing at any indecent object; and therefore on all such
occasions he addresses himself to the sun, and desires him to keep out
of the way.
Rise never more, O sun! let night prevail,
Eternal darkness close the world's wide scene.--_Busiris_.
Sun, hide thy face, and put the world in mourning.--_Ibid_.
Mr Banks makes the sun perform the office of Hymen, and therefore not
likely to be disgusted at such a sight:
The sun sets forth like a gay brideman with you.
--_Mary Queen of Scots_.
]
_Nood_. Oh, sir! this purpose of your soul pursue.
_Bail_. Oh! sir! I have an action against you.
_Nood_. At whose suit is it?
_Bail_. At your taylor's, sir.
Your taylor put this warrant in my hands,
And I arrest you, sir, at his commands.
_Thumb_. Ha! dogs! Arrest my friend before my face!
Think you Tom Thumb will suffer this disgrace?
But let vain cowards threaten by their word,
Tom Thumb shall shew his anger by his sword.
[_Kills_ Bailiff _and_ Follower.
_Bail_. Oh, I am slain!
_Fol_. I am murdered also,
And to the shades, the dismal shades below,
My bailiff's faithful follower I go.
_Nood_. [1]Go then to hell, like rascals as you are,
And give our service to the bailiffs there.
[Footnote 1: Nourmahal sends the same message to heaven;
For I would have you, when you upwards move,
Speak kindly of us to our friends above.--_Aurengzebe_
We find another to hell, in the Persian Princess:
Villain, get thee down
To hell, and tell them that the fray's begun.
]
_Thumb_. Thus perish all the bailiffs in the land,
Till debtors at noon-day shall walk the streets,
And no one fear a bailiff or his writ.
SCENE III.----_The Princess _Huncamunca's_ Apartment_.
Huncamunca, Cleora, Mustacha.
_Hunc_. [1]Give me some music--see that it be sad.
[Footnote 1: Anthony gave the same command in the same words.]
CLEORA _sings_.
Cupid, ease a love-sick maid,
Bring thy quiver to her aid;
With equal ardour wound the swain,
Beauty should never sigh in vain.
Let him feel the pleasing smart,
Drive the arrow through his heart:
When one you wound, you then destroy;
When both you kill, you kill with joy.
_Hunc_. [1]O Tom Thumb! Tom Thumb! wherefore art thou Tom Thumb?
Why hadst thou not been born of royal race?
Why had not mighty Bantam been thy father?
Or else the king of Brentford, Old or New?
[Footnote 1: Oh! Marius, Marius, wherefore art thou Marius?
--_Olway's Marius_.
]
_Must_. I am surprised that your highness can give yourself a
moment's uneasiness about that little insignificant fellow,[1] Tom Thumb
the Great--one properer for a plaything than a husband. Were he my
husband his horns should be as long as his body. If you had fallen in
love with a grenadier, I should not have wondered at it. If you had
fallen in love with something; but to fall in love with nothing!
[Footnote 1: Nothing is more common than these seeming contradictions;
such as,
Haughty weakness.--_Victim_
Great small world.--_Noah's Flood_
]
_Hunc_. Cease, my Mustacha, on thy duty cease.
The zephyr, when in flowery vales it plays,
Is not so soft, so sweet as Thummy's breath.
The dove is not so gentle to its mate.
_Must_. The dove is every bit as proper for a husband. --Alas!
Madam, there's not a beau about the court looks so little like a
man. He is a perfect butterfly, a thing without substance, and almost
without shadow too.
_Hunc_. This rudeness is unseasonable: desist;
Or I shall think this railing comes from love.
Tom Thumb's a creature of that charming form,
That no one can abuse, unless they love him.
_Must_. Madam, the king.
SCENE IV.-KING, HUNCAMUNCA.
_King_. Let all but Huncamunca leave the room.
[Exeunt CLEORA and MUSTACHA.
Daughter, I have observed of late some grief.
Unusual in your countenance: your eyes!
[1]That, like two open windows, used to shew
The lovely beauty of the rooms within,
Have now two blinds before them. What is the cause?
Say, have you not enough of meat and drink?
We've given strict orders not to have you stinted.
[Footnote 1: Lee hath improved this metaphor:
Dost thou not view joy peeping from my eyes,
The casements open'd wide to gaze on thee?
So Rome's glad citizens to windows rise,
When they some young triumpher fain would see.
--_Gloriana_.
]
_Hunc_. Alas! my lord, I value not myself
That once I eat two fowls and half a pig;
[1]Small is that praise! but oh! a maid may want
What she can neither eat nor drink.
[Footnote 1: Almahide hath the same contempt for these appetites:
To eat and drink can no perfection be.
--_Conquest of Granada_.
The earl of Essex is of a different opinion, and seems to place the
chief happiness of a general therein:
Were but commanders half so well rewarded,
Then they might eat.--_Banks's Earl of Essex_.
But, if we may believe one who knows more than either, the devil
himself, we shall find eating to be an affair of more moment than is
generally imagined:
Gods are immortal only by their food.
--_Lucifer; in the State of Innocence_.
]
_King_. What's that?
_Hunc_. O[1] spare my blushes; but I mean a husband.
[Footnote 1: "This expression is enough of itself," says Mr D.,
"utterly to destroy the character of Huncamunca!" Yet we find a woman
of no abandoned character in Dryden adventuring farther, and thus
excusing herself:
To speak our wishes first, forbid it pride,
Forbid it modesty; true, they forbid it,
But Nature does not. When we are athirst,
Or hungry, will imperious Nature stay,
Nor eat, nor drink, before 'tis bid fall on?--_Cleomenes_.
Cassandra speaks before she is asked: Huncamunca afterwards.
Cassandra speaks her wishes to her lover: Huncamunca only to her
father.
]
_King_. If that be all, I have provided one,
A husband great in arms, whose warlike sword
Streams with the yellow blood of slaughter'd giants,
Whose name in Terra Incognita is known,
Whose valour, wisdom, virtue make a noise
Great as the kettle-drums of twenty armies.
_Hunc_. Whom does my royal father mean?
_King_. Tom Thumb.
_Hunc_. Is it possible?
_King_. Ha! the window-blinds are gone;
[1]A country-dance of joy is in your face.
Your eyes spit fire, your cheeks grow red as beef.
[Footnote 1:
Her eyes resistless magick bear;
Angels, I see, and gods, are dancing there
--_Lee's Sophonisba_.
]
_Hunc_. O, there's a magick-musick in that sound,
Enough to turn me into beef indeed!
Yes, I will own, since licensed by your word,
I'll own Tom Thumb the cause of all my grief.
For him I've sigh'd, I've wept, I've gnaw'd my sheets.
_King_. Oh! thou shalt gnaw thy tender sheets no more.
A husband thou shalt have to mumble now.
_Hunc_. Oh! happy sound! henceforth let no one tell
That Huncamunca shall lead apes in hell.
Oh! I am overjoy'd!
_King_. I see thou art.
[1] Joy lightens in thy eyes, and thunders from thy brows;
Transports, like lightning, dart along thy soul,
As small-shot through a hedge.
[Footnote 1: Mr Dennis, in that excellent tragedy called Liberty
Asserted, which is thought to have given so great a stroke to the late
French king, hath frequent imitations of this beautiful speech of king
Arthur:
Conquest light'ning in his eyes, and thund'ring in his arm,
Joy lighten'd in her eyes.
Joys like lightning dart along my soul.
]
_Hunc_. Oh! say not small.
_King_. This happy news shall on our tongue ride post,
Ourself we bear the happy news to Thumb.
Yet think not, daughter, that your powerful charms
Must still detain the hero from his arms;
Various his duty, various his delight;
Now in his turn to kiss, and now to fight,
And now to kiss again. So, mighty[1] Jove,
When with excessive thund'ring tired above,
Comes down to earth, and takes a bit--and then
Flies to his trade of thund'ring back again.
[Footnote 1:
Jove, with excessive thund'ring tired above,
Comes down for ease, enjoys a nymph, and then
Mounts dreadful, and to thund'ring goes again.--_Gloriana_.
]
SCENE V.--GRIZZLE, HUNCAMUNCA.
[1]_Griz_. Oh! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh!
Thy pouting breasts, like kettle-drums of brass,
Beat everlasting loud alarms of joy;
As bright as brass they are, and oh, as hard.
Oh! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh!
[Footnote 1: This beautiful line, which ought, says Mr W----, to be
written in gold, is imitated in the New Sophonisba:
Oh! Sophonisba; Sophonisba, oh!
Oh! Narva; Narva, oh!
The author of a song called Duke upon Duke hath improved it:
Alas! O Nick! O Nick, alas!
Where, by the help of a little false spelling, you have two
meanings in the repeated words.
]
_Hunc_. Ha! dost thou know me, princess as I am,
[1]That thus of me you dare to make your game?
[Footnote 1: Edith, in the Bloody Brother, speaks to her lover in the
same familiar language:
Your grace is full of game.
]
_Griz_. Oh! Huncamunca, well I know that you
A princess are, and a king's daughter, too;
But love no meanness scorns, no grandeur fears;
Love often lords into the cellar bears,
And bids the sturdy porter come up stairs.
For what's too high for love, or what's too low?
Oh! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh!
_Hunc_. But, granting all you say of love were true,
My love, alas! is to another due.
In vain to me a suitoring you come,
For I'm already promised to Tom Thumb.
_Griz_. And can my princess such a durgen wed?
One fitter for your pocket than your bed!
Advised by me, the worthless baby shun,
Or you will ne'er be brought to bed of one.
Oh take me to thy arms, and never flinch,
Who am a man, by Jupiter! every inch.
[1]Then, while in joys together lost we lie,
I'll press thy soul while gods stand wishing by.
[Footnote 1:
Traverse the glitt'ring chambers of the sky,
Borne on a cloud in view of fate I'll lie,
And press her soul while gods stand wishing by.
--_Hannibal_.
]
_Hunc_. If, sir, what you insinuate you prove,
All obstacles of promise you remove;
For all engagements to a man must fall,
Whene'er that man is proved no man at all.
_Griz_. Oh! let him seek some dwarf, some fairy miss,
Where no joint-stool must lift him to the kiss!
But, by the stars and glory! you appear
Much fitter for a Prussian grenadier;
One globe alone on Atlas' shoulders rests,
Two globes are less than Huncamunca's breasts;
The milky way is not so white, that's flat,
And sure thy breasts are full as large as that.
_Hunc_. Oh, sir, so strong your eloquence I find,
It is impossible to be unkind.
_Griz_. Ah! speak that o'er again, and let the[1] sound
From one pole to another pole rebound;
The earth and sky each be a battledore,
And keep the sound, that shuttlecock, up an hour:
To Doctors' Commons for a licence I
Swift as an arrow from a bow will fly.
[Footnote 1:
Let the four winds from distant corners meet,
And on their wings first bear it into France;
Then back again to Edina's proud walls,
Till victim to the sound th' aspiring city falls.
--_Albion Queens_.
]
_Hunc_. Oh, no! lest some disaster we should meet
'Twere better to be married at the Fleet.
_Griz_. Forbid it, all ye powers, a princess should
By that vile place contaminate her blood;
My quick return shall to my charmer prove
I travel on the [1]post-horses of love.
[Footnote 1: I do not remember any metaphors so frequent in the tragic
poets as those borrowed from riding post:
The gods and opportunity ride post.--_Hannibal_.
----Let's rush together,
For death rides post!--_Duke of Guise_.
Destruction gallops to thy murder post.--_Gloriana_.
]
_Hunc_. Those post-horses to me will seem too slow
Though they should fly swift as the gods, when they
Ride on behind that post-boy, Opportunity.
SCENE VI.--TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA.
_Thumb_. Where is my princess? where's my Huncamunca?
Where are those eyes, those cardmatches of Jove,
That[1] light up all with love my waxen soul?
Where is that face which artful nature made
[2] In the same moulds where Venus' self was cast?
[Footnote 1: This image, too, very often occurs:
--Bright as when thy eye
First lighted up our loves.--_Aurengzebe_.
'Tis not a crown alone lights up my name.--_Busiris_.
]
[Footnote 2: There is great dissension among the poets concerning the
method of making man. One tells his mistress that the mould she was
made in being lost, Heaven cannot form such another. Lucifer, in
Dryden, gives a merry description of his own formation:
Whom heaven, neglecting, made and scarce design'd,
But threw me in for number to the rest .--_State of Innocence_.
In one place the same poet supposes man to be made of metal:
I was form'd
Of that coarse metal which, when she was made
The gods threw by for rubbish.--_All for Love_.
In another of dough:
When the gods moulded up the paste of man,
Some of their clay was left upon their hands,
And so they made Egyptians.--_Cleomenes_.
In another of clay:
--Rubbish of remaining clay.--_Sebastian_.
One makes the soul of wax:
Her waxen soul begins to melt apace.--_Anna Bullen_.
Another of flint:
Sure our two souls have somewhere been acquainted
In former beings, or, struck out together,
One spark to Africk flew, and one to Portugal.--_Sebastian_.
To omit the great quantities of iron, brazen, and leaden souls, which
are so plenty in modern authors--I cannot omit the dress of a soul as
we find it in Dryden:
Souls shirted but with air.--_King Arthur_.
Nor can I pass by a particular sort of soul in a particular sort of
description in the New Sophonisba:
Ye mysterious powers,
--Whether thro' your gloomy depths I wander,
Or on the mountains walk, give me the calm,
The steady smiling soul, where wisdom sheds
Eternal sunshine, and eternal joy.
]
_Hunc_. [1]Oh! what is music to the ear that's deaf,
Or a goose-pie to him that has no taste?
What are these praises now to me, since I
Am promised to another?
[Footnote 1: This line Mr Banks has plunder'd entire in his Anna
Bullen.]
_Thumb_. Ha! promised?
_Hunc_. Too sure; 'tis written in the book of fate.
_Thumb_. [1]Then I will tear away the leaf
Wherein it's writ; or, if fate won't allow
So large a gap within its journal-book,
I'll blot it out at least.
[Footnote 1:
Good Heaven! the book of fate before me lay,
But to tear out the journal of that day.
Or, if the order of the world below
Will not the gap of one whole day allow,
Give me that minute when she made her vow.
--_Conquest of Granada_.
]
SCENE VII.--GLUMDALCA, TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA
_Glum_. [1]I need not ask if you are Huncamunca.
Your brandy-nose proclaims----
[Footnote 1: I know some of the commentators have imagined that Mr
Dryden, in the altercative scene between Cleopatra and Octavia, a
scene which Mr Addison inveighs against with great bitterness, is
much beholden to our author. How just this their observation is I will
not presume to determine.]
_Hunc_. I am a princess;
Nor need I ask who you are.
_Glum_. A giantess;
The queen of those who made and unmade queens.
_Hunc_. The man whose chief ambition is to be
My sweetheart hath destroy'd these mighty giants.
_Glum_. Your sweetheart? Dost thou think the man who once
Hath worn my easy chains will e'er wear thine?
_Hunc_. Well may your chains be easy, since, if fame
Says true, they have been tried on twenty husbands.
[1]The glove or boot, so many times pull'd on,
May well sit easy on the hand or foot.
[Footnote 1: "A cobling poet indeed," says Mr D.; and yet I believe we
may find as monstrous images in the tragick authors: I'll put down
one:
Untie your folded thoughts, and let them dangle loose as a
bride's hair.--_Injured Love_.
Which line seems to have as much title to a milliner's shop as our
author's to a shoemaker's.]
_Glum_. I glory in the number, and when I
Sit poorly down, like thee, content with one,
Heaven change this face for one as bad as thine.
_Hunc_. Let me see nearer what this beauty is
That captivates the heart of men by scores.
[_Holds a candle to her face_.
Oh! Heaven, thou art as ugly as the devil.
_Glum_. You'd give the best of shoes within your shop
To be but half so handsome.
_Hunc_. Since you come
[1]To that, I'll put my beauty to the test:
Tom Thumb, I'm yours, if you with me will go.
[Footnote 1: Mr L---- takes occasion in this place to commend the great
care of our author to preserve the metre of blank verse, in which
Shakspeare, Jonson, and Fletcher, were so notoriously negligent; and
the moderns, in imitation of our author, so laudably observant:
Then does
Your majesty believe that he can be
A traitor?--_Earl of Essex_.
Every page of Sophonisba gives us instances of this excellence.
]
_Glum_. Oh! stay, Tom Thumb, and you alone shall fill
That bed where twenty giants used to lie.
_Thumb_. In the balcony that o'erhangs the stage,
I've seen a whore two 'prentices engage;
One half-a-crown does in his fingers hold,
The other shews a little piece of gold;
She the half-guinea wisely does purloin,
And leaves the larger and the baser coin.
_Glum_. Left, scorn'd, and loathed for such a chit as this;
[1] I feel the storm that's rising in my mind,
Tempests and whirlwinds rise, and roll, and roar.
I'm all within a hurricane, as if
[2] The world's four winds were pent within my carcase.
[3] Confusion, horror, murder, guts, and death!
[Footnote 1: Love mounts and rolls about my stormy mind.
--_Aurengzebe_.
Tempests and whirlwinds thro' my bosom move.
--_Cleomenes_.
]
[Footnote 2:
With such a furious tempest on his brow,
As if the world's four winds were pent within
His blustering carcase.--_Anna Bullen_.
]
[Footnote 3: Verba Tragica.]
SCENE VIII.--KING, GLUMDALCA.
_King_. [1] Sure never was so sad a king as I!
[2] My life is worn as ragged as a coat
A beggar wears; a prince should put it off.
[3] To love a captive and a giantess!
Oh love! oh love! how great a king art thou!
My tongue's thy trumpet, and thou trumpetest,
Unknown to me, within me. [4] Oh, Glumdalca!
Heaven thee designed a giantess to make,
But an angelick soul was shuffled in.
[5] I am a multitude of walking griefs,
And only on her lips the balm is found
[6] To spread a plaster that might cure them all.
[Footnote 1: This speech has been terribly mauled by the poet.]
[Footnote 2:
----My life is worn to rags,
Not worth a prince's wearing.--_Love Triumphant_.
]
[Footnote 3:
Must I beg the pity of my slave?
Must a king beg? But love's a greater king,
A tyrant, nay, a devil, that possesses me.
He tunes the organ of my voice and speaks,
Unknown to me, within me.--_Sebastian_.
]
[Footnote 4:
When thou wert form'd, heaven did a man begin;
But a brute soul by chance was shuffled in.--_Aurengzebe_.
]
[Footnote 5:
I am a multitude
Of walking griefs.--_New Sophonisba_.
]
[Footnote 6:
I will take thy scorpion blood,
And lay it to my grief till I have ease.--_Anna Bullen_.
]
_Glum_. What do I hear?
_King_. What do I see?
_Glum_. Oh!
_King_. Ah!
[1]_Glum_. Ah! wretched queen!
_King_. Oh! wretched king!
[2]_Glum_. Ah!
_King_. Oh!
[Footnote 1: Our author, who everywhere shews his great penetration
into human nature, here outdoes himself: where a less judicious poet
would have raised a long scene of whining love, he, who understood the
passions better, and that so violent an affection as this must be too
big for utterance, chuses rather to send his characters off in this
sullen and doleful manner, in which admirable conduct he is imitated
by the author of the justly celebrated Eurydice. Dr Young seems to
point at this violence of passion:
--Passion choaks
Their words, and they're the statues of despair.
And Seneca tells us, "Curse leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent." The
story of the Egyptian king in Herodotus is too well known to need to
be inserted; I refer the more curious reader to the excellent
Montaigne, who hath written an essay on this subject.]
[Footnote 2:
To part is death.
Tis death to part.
Ah!
Oh --_Don Carlos_.
]
SCENE IX.--TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA, Parson.
_Par_. Happy's the wooing that's not long a doing;
For, if I guess right, Tom Thumb this night
Shall give a being to a new Tom Thumb.
_Thumb_. It shall be my endeavour so to do.
_Hunc_. Oh! fie upon you, sir, you make me blush.
_Thumb_. It is the virgin's sign, and suits you well:
[1] I know not where, nor how, nor what I am;
[2] I am so transported, I have lost myself.
[Footnote 1:
Nor know I whether
What am I, who, or where. --_Busiris_.
I was I know not what, and am I know not how.
--_Gloriana_.
]
[Footnote 2: To understand sufficiently the beauty of this passage, it
will be necessary that we comprehend every man to contain two selfs. I
shall not attempt to prove this from philosophy, which the poets make
so plainly evident.
One runs away from the other:
----Let me demand your majesty,
Why fly you from yourself? --_Duke of Guise_.
In a second, one self is a guardian to the other:
Leave me the care of me. --_Conquest of Granada_.
Again:
Myself am to myself less near. --_Ibid_.
In the same, the first self is proud of the second:
I myself am proud of me. --_State of Innocence_.
In a third, distrustful of him:
Fain I would tell, but whisper it in my ear,
That none besides might hear, nay, not myself.
--_Earl of Essex_.
In a fourth, honours him:
I honour Rome,
And honour too myself. --_Sophonisba_.
In a fifth, at variance with him:
Leave me not thus at variance with myself. --_Busiris_.
Again, in a sixth:
I find myself divided from myself. --_Medea_.
She seemed the sad effigies of herself. --_Banks_.
Assist me, Zulema, if thou would'st be
The friend thou seem'st, assist me against me.
--_Albion Queens_.
From all which it appears that there are two selfs; and therefore Tom
Thumb's losing himself is no such solecism as it hath been represented
by men rather ambitious of criticising than qualified to criticise.
]
_Hunc_. Forbid it, all ye stars, for you're so small.
That were you lost, you'd find yourself no more.
So the unhappy sempstress once, they say,
Her needle in a pottle, lost, of hay;
In vain she look'd, and look'd, and made her moan,
For ah, the needle was forever gone.
_Par_. Long may they live, and love, and propagate,
Till the whole land be peopled with Tom Thumbs!
[1] So, when the Cheshire cheese a maggot breeds,
Another and another still succeeds:
By thousands and ten thousands they increase,
Till one continued maggot fills the rotten cheese.
[Footnote 1: Mr F---- imagines this parson to have been a Welsh one
from his simile.]
SCENE X.--NOODLE, _and then_ GRIZZLE.
_Nood_. [1] Sure, Nature means to break her solid chain,
Or else unfix the world, and in a rage
To hurl it from its axletree and hinges;
All things are so confused, the king's in love,
The queen is drunk, the princess married is.
[Footnote 1: Our author hath been plundered here, according to custom
Great nature, break thy chain that links together
The fabrick of the world, and make a chaos
Like that within my soul.--_Love Triumphant_.
----Startle Nature, unfix the globe,
And hurl it from its axletree and hinges.
--_Albion Queens_.
The tott'ring earth seems sliding off its props.
]
_Griz_. Oh, Noodle! Hast thou Huncamunca seen?
_Nood_. I have seen a thousand sights this day, where none
Are by the wonderful bitch herself outdone.
The king, the queen, and all the court, are sights.
_Griz_. [1] D--n your delay, you trifler! are you drunk, ha!
I will not hear one word but Huncamunca.
[Footnote 1:
D--n your delay, ye torturers, proceed;
I will not hear one word but Almahide.
--_Conquest of Granada_.
]
_Nood_. By this time she is married to Tom Thumb.
_Griz_. [1] My Huncamunca!
[Footnote 1: Mr Dryden hath imitated this in All for Love.]
_Nood_. Your Huncamunca,
Tom Thumb's Huncamunca, every man's Huncamunca.
_Griz_. If this be true, all womankind are damn'd.
_Nood_. If it be not, may I be so myself.
_Griz_. See where she comes! I'll not believe a word
Against that face, upon whose [1] ample brow
Sits innocence with majesty enthroned.
[Footnote 1: This Miltonic style abounds in the New Sophonisba:
--And on her ample brow
Sat majesty.
]
GRIZZLE, HUNCAMUNCA.
_Griz_. Where has my Huncamunca been? See here.
The licence in my hand!
_Hunc_. Alas! Tom Thumb.
_Griz_. Why dost thou mention him?
_Hunc_. Ah, me! Tom Thumb.
_Griz_. What means my lovely Huncamunca?
_Hunc_. Hum!
_Griz_. Oh! speak.
_Hunc_. Hum!
_Griz_. Ha! your every word is hum:
[1] You force me still to answer you, Tom Thumb.
Tom Thumb--I'm on the rack--I'm in a flame.
[2]Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb--you love the name;
So pleasing is that sound, that were you dumb,
You still would find a voice to cry Tom Thumb.
[Footnote 1:
Your every answer still so ends in that,
You force me still to answer you Morat. --_Aurengzebe_.
]
[Footnote 2: Morat, Morat, Morat! you love the name.--_Aurengzebe_.]
_Hunc_. Oh! be not hasty to proclaim my doom!
My ample heart for more than one has room:
A maid like me Heaven form'd at least for two.
[1]I married him, and now I'll marry you.
[Footnote 1: "Here is a sentiment for the virtuous Huncamunca!" says
Mr D----s. And yet, with the leave of this great man, the virtuous
Panthea, in Cyrus, hath an heart every whit as ample:
For two I must confess are gods to me,
Which is my Abradatus first, and thee.--_Cyrus the Great_.
Nor is the lady in Love Triumphant more reserved, though not so
intelligible:
I am so divided,
That I grieve most for both, and love both most.
]
_Griz_. Ha! dost thou own thy falsehood to my face?
Think'st thou that I will share thy husband's place?
Since to that office one cannot suffice,
And since you scorn to dine one single dish on,
Go, get your husband put into commission.
Commissioners to discharge (ye gods! it fine is)
The duty of a husband to your highness.
Yet think not long I will my rival bear,
Or unrevenged the slighted willow wear;
The gloomy, brooding tempest, now confined
Within the hollow caverns of my mind,
In dreadful whirl shall roll along the coasts,
Shall thin the land of all the men it boasts,
[1] And cram up ev'ry chink of hell with ghosts.
[2] So have I seen, in some dark winter's day,
A sudden storm rush down the sky's highway,
Sweep through the streets with terrible ding-dong,
Gush through the spouts, and wash whole crouds along.
The crouded shops the thronging vermin skreen,
Together cram the dirty and the clean,
And not one shoe-boy in the street is seen.
[Footnote 1: A ridiculous supposition to any one who considers the great
and extensive largeness of hell, says a commentator; but not
so to those who consider the great expansion of immaterial
substance. Mr Banks makes one soul to be so expanded, that
heaven could not contain it:
The heavens are all too narrow for her soul.
--_Virtue Betrayed_.
The Persian Princess hath a passage not unlike the author of this:
We will send such shoals of murder'd slaves,
Shall glut hell's empty regions.
This threatens to fill hell, even though it was empty; Lord Grizzle,
only to fill up the chinks, supposing the rest already full.
]
[Footnote 2: Mr Addison is generally thought to have had this simile
in his eye when he wrote that beautiful one at the end of the third
act of his Cato.]
_Hunc_. Oh, fatal rashness! should his fury slay
My helpless bridegroom on his wedding-day,
I, who this morn of two chose which to wed,
May go again this night alone to bed.
[1] So have I seen some wild unsettled fool,
Who had her choice of this and that joint-stool,
To give the preference to either loth,
And fondly coveting to sit on both,
While the two stools her sitting-part confound,
Between 'em both fall squat upon the ground.
[Footnote 1: This beautiful simile is founded on a proverb which does
honour to the English language:
Between two stools the breech falls to the ground.
I am not so well pleased with any written remains of the ancients as
with those little aphorisms which verbal tradition hath delivered down
to us under the title of proverbs. It were to be wished that, instead
of filling their pages with the fabulous theology of the pagans, our
modern poets would think it worth their while to enrich their works
with the proverbial sayings of their ancestors. Mr Dryden hath
chronicled one in heroick;
Two ifs scarce make one possibility.
--_Conquest of Granada_.
My lord Bacon is of opinion that whatever is known of arts and
sciences might be proved to have lurked in the Proverbs of Solomon. I
am of the same opinion in relation to those above-mentioned; at least
I am confident that a more perfect system of ethicks, as well as
oeconomy, might be compiled out of them than is at present extant,
either in the works of the ancient philosophers, or those more
valuable, as more voluminous ones of the modern divines.
]
ACT III.
SCENE I.--KING ARTHUR'S _Palace_.
[1] _Ghost (solus)_. Hail! ye black horrors of midnight's
midnoon'
Ye fairies, goblins, bats, and screech-owls, hail!
And, oh! ye mortal watchmen, whose hoarse throats
Th' immortal ghosts dread croakings counterfeit,
All hail!--Ye dancing phantoms, who, by day,
Are some condemn'd to fast, some feast in fire,
Now play in churchyards, skipping o'er the graves,
To the [2]loud music of the silent bell,
All hail!
[Footnote 1: Of all the particulars in which the modern stage falls
short of the ancient, there is none so much to be lamented as the
great scarcity of ghosts Whence this proceeds I will not presume to
determine Some are of opinion that the moderns are unequal to that
sublime language which a ghost ought to speak One says, ludicrously,
that ghosts are out of fashion, another, that they are properer for
comedy, forgetting, I suppose, that Aristotle hath told us that a
ghost is the soul of tragedy, for so I render the [Greek text:
psychae o muythos taes tragodias], which M. Dacier, amongst others,
hath mistaken, I suppose, misled by not understanding the Fabula of
the Latins, which signifies a ghost as well as fable.
"Te premet nox, fabulaeque manes"--_Horace_
Of all the ghosts that have ever appeared on the stage, a very learned
and judicious foreign critick gives the preference to this of our
author. These are his words speaking of this tragedy--"Nec quidquam
in illa admirabilius quam phasma quoddam horrendum, quod omnibus abis
spectris quibuscum scatet Angelorum tragoedia longe (pace D--ysn V
Doctiss dixerim) praetulerim."
]
[Footnote 2: We have already given instances of this figure.]
SCENE II.--KING, GHOST.
_King_. What noise is this? What villain dares,
At this dread hoar, with feet and voice profane,
Disturb our royal walls?
_Ghost_. One who defies
Thy empty power to hurt him; [1] one who dares
Walk in thy bedchamber.
[Footnote 1: Almanzor reasons in the same manner:
A ghost I'll be;
And from a ghost, you know, no place is free.
--_Conquest of Granada_.
]
_King_. Presumptuous slave!
Thou diest.
_Ghost_. Threaten others with that word:
[1] I am a ghost, and am already dead.
[Footnote 1: "The man who writ this wretched pun," says Mr D., "would
have picked your pocket:" which he proceeds to shew not only bad in
itself, but doubly so on so solemn an occasion. And yet, in that
excellent play of Liberty Asserted, we find something very much
resembling a pun in the mouth of a mistress, who is parting with the
lover she is fond of:
_Ul_. Oh, mortal woe! one kiss, and then farewell.
_Irene_. The gods have given to others to fare well.
O! miserably must Irene fare.
Agamemnon, in the Victim, is full as facetious on the most solemn
occasion--that of sacrificing his daughter:
Yes, daughter, yes; you will assist the priest;
Yes, you must offer up your vows for Greece,
]
_King_. Ye stars! 'tis well, Were thy last hour to come,
This moment had been it; [1] yet by thy shroud
I'll pull thee backward, squeeze thee to a bladder,
Till thou dost groan thy nothingness away.
Thou fly'st! 'Tis well. [_Ghost retires_.
[2] I thought what was the courage of a ghost!
Yet, dare not, on thy life--Why say I that,
Since life thou hast not?--Dare not walk again
Within these walls, on pain of the Red Sea.
For, if henceforth I ever find thee here,
As sure, sure as a gun, I'll have thee laid--
[Footnote 1:
I'll pull thee backwards by thy shroud to light,
Or else I'll squeeze thee, like a bladder, there,
And make thee groan thyself away to air.
--_Conquest of Granada_.
Snatch me, ye gods, this moment into nothing.
--_Cyrus the Great_.
]
[Footnote 2:
So, art thou gone? Thou canst no conquest boast.
I thought what was the courage of a ghost.
--_Conquest of Granada_.
King Arthur seems to be as brave a fellow as Almanzor, who says most
heroically,
In spite of ghosts I'll on.
]
_Ghost_. Were the Red Sea a sea of Hollands gin,
The liquor (when alive) whose very smell
I did detest--did loathe--yet, for the sake
Of Thomas Thumb, I would be laid therein.
_King_. Ha! said you?
_Ghost_. Yes, my liege, I said Tom Thumb,
Whose father's ghost I am--once not unknown
To mighty Arthur. But, I see, 'tis true,
The dearest friend, when dead, we all forget.
_King_. 'Tis he--it is the honest Gaffer Thumb.
Oh! let me press thee in my eager arms,
Thou best of ghosts! thou something more than ghost!
_Ghost_. Would I were something more, that we again
Might feel each other in the warm embrace.
But now I have th' advantage of my king,
[1] For I feel thee, whilst thou dost not feel me.
[Footnote 1: The ghost of Lausaria, in Cyrus, is a plain copy of this,
and is therefore worth reading:
Ah, Cyrus!
Thou may'st as well grasp water, or fleet air,
As think of touching my immortal shade.
--_Cyrus the Great_.
]
_King_. But say, [1] thou dearest air, oh! say what dread,
Important business sends thee back to earth?
[Footnote 1:
Thou better part of heavenly air.
--_Conquest of Granada,_.
]
_Ghost_. Oh! then prepare to hear--which but to hear
Is full enough to send thy spirit hence.
Thy subjects up in arms, by Grizzle led,
Will, ere the rosy-finger'd morn shall ope
The shutters of the sky, before the gate
Of this thy royal palace, swarming spread.
[1] So have I seen the bees in clusters swarm,
So have I seen the stars in frosty nights,
So have I seen the sand in windy days,
So have I seen the ghosts on Pluto's shore,
So have I seen the flowers in spring arise,
So have I seen the leaves in autumn fall,
So have I seen the fruits in summer smile,
So have I seen the snow in winter frown.
[Footnote 1: "A string of similes," says one, "proper to be hung up in
the cabinet of a prince."]
_King_. D--n all thou hast seen!--dost thou, beneath the shape
Of Gaffer Thumb, come hither to abuse me
With similes, to keep me on the rack?
Hence--or, by all the torments of thy hell,
[1] I'll run thee through the body, though thou'st none.
[Footnote 1: This passage hath been understood several different ways
by the commentators. For my part, I find it difficult to understand it
at all. Mr Dryden says--
I've heard something how two bodies meet,
But how two souls join I know not.
So that, till the body of a spirit be better understood, it will be
difficult to understand how it is possible to run him through it.
]
_Ghost_. Arthur, beware! I must this moment hence,
Not frighted by your voice, but by the cocks!
Arthur, beware, beware, beware, beware!
Strive to avert thy yet impending fate;
For, if thou'rt kill'd to-day,
To-morrow all thy care will come too late.
SCENE III.--KING (_solus_).
_King_. Oh! stay, and leave me not uncertain thus!
And, whilst thou tellest me what's like my fate,
Oh! teach me how I may avert it too!
Curst be the man who first a simile made!
Curst ev'ry bard who writes!--So have I seen
Those whose comparisons are just and true,
And those who liken things not like at all.
The devil is happy that the whole creation
Can furnish out no simile to his fortune.
SCENE IV.--KING, QUEEN.
_Queen_. What is the cause, my Arthur, that you steal
Thus silently from Dollallolla's breast?
Why dost thou leave me in the [1] dark alone,
When well thou know'st I am afraid of sprites?
[Footnote 1: Cydaria is of the same fearful temper with Dollallolla.
I never durst in darkness be alone.
--_Indian Emperor_.
]
_King_. Oh, Dollallolla! do not blame my love!
I hop'd the fumes of last night's punch had laid
Thy lovely eyelids fast.--But, oh! I find
There is no power in drams to quiet wives;
Each morn, as the returning sun, they wake,
And shine upon their husbands.
_Queen_. Think, oh think!
What a surprise it must be to the sun,
Rising, to find the vanish'd world away.
What less can be the wretched wife's surprise
When, stretching out her arms to fold thee fast,
She found her useless bolster in her arms.
[1] Think, think, on that.--Oh! think, think well on that.
I do remember also to have read
[2] In Dryden's Ovid's Metamorphoses,
That Jove in form inanimate did lie
With beauteous Danae: and, trust me, love,
[3] I fear'd the bolster might have been a Jove.
[Footnote 1:
Think well of this, think that, think every way.--_Sophon_.]
[Footnote 2: These quotations are more usual in the comick than in the
tragick writers.]
[Footnote 3: "This distress," says Mr D--, "I must allow to be
extremely beautiful, and tends to heighten the virtuous character of
Dollallolla, who is so exceeding delicate, that she is in the highest
apprehension from the inanimate embrace of a bolster. An example
worthy of imitation for all our writers of tragedy."]
_King_. Come to my arms, most virtuous of thy sex!
Oh, Dollallolla! were all wives like thee,
So many husbands never had worn horns.
Should Huncamunca of thy worth partake,
Tom Thumb indeed were blest.--Oh, fatal name,
For didst thou know one quarter what I know,
Then would'st thou know--Alas! what thou would'st
know!
_Queen_. What can I gather hence? Why dost thou speak
Like men who carry rareeshows about?
"Now you shall see, gentlemen, what you shall see."
O, tell me more, or thou hast told too much.
SCENE V.--KING, QUEEN, NOODLE.
_Nood_. Long life attend your majesties serene,
Great Arthur, king, and Dollallolla, queen!
Lord Grizzle, with a bold rebellious crowd,
Advances to the palace, threat'ning loud,
Unless the princess be deliver'd straight,
And the victorious Thumb, without his pate,
They are resolv'd to batter down the gate.
SCENE VI.--KING, QUEEN, HUNCAMUNCA, NOODLE.
_King_. See where the princess comes! Where is Tom Thumb?
_Hunc_. Oh! sir, about an hour and half ago
He sallied out t' encounter with the foe,
And swore, unless his fate had him misled,
From Grizzle's shoulders to cut off his head,
And serve't up with your chocolate in bed.
_King_. 'Tis well, I found one devil told us both.
Come, Dollallolla, Huncamunca, come;
Within we'll wait for the victorious Thumb;
In peace and safety we secure may stay,
While to his arm we trust the bloody fray;
Though men and giants should conspire with gods,
[1] He is alone equal to all these odds.
[Footnote 1:
"Credat Judaeus Appella,
Non ego,"
says Mr D--. "For, passing over the absurdity of being equal to odds,
can we possibly suppose a little insignificant fellow--I say again, a
little insignificant fellow--able to vie with a strength which all the
Samsons and Herculeses of antiquity would be unable to encounter?" I
shall refer this incredulous critick to Mr Dryden's defence of his
Almanzor; and, lest that should not satisfy him, I shall quote a few
lines from the speech of a much braver fellow than Almanzor, Mr
Johnson's Achilles:
Though human race rise in embattled hosts,
To force her from my arms--Oh! son of Atreus!
By that immortal pow'r, whose deathless spirit
Informs this earth, I will oppose them all.--_Victim_.
]
_Queen_. He is, indeed,[1] a helmet to us all;
While he supports we need not fear to fall;
His arm despatches all things to our wish?
And serves up ev'ry foe's head in a dish.
Void is the mistress of the house of care,
While the good cook presents the bill of fare;
Whether the cod, that northern king of fish,
Or duck, or goose, or pig, adorn the dish,
No fears the number of her guests afford,
But at her hour she sees the dinner on the board.
[Footnote 1: "I have heard of being supported by a staff," says Mr
D., "but never of being supported by a helmet." I believe he never
heard of sailing with wings, which he may read in no less a poet than
Mr Dryden:
Unless we borrow wings, and sail through air.
--_Love Triumphant_.
What will he say to a kneeling valley?
----I'll stand
Like a safe valley, that low bends the knee
To some aspiring mountain. --_Injured Love_.
I am ashamed of so ignorant a carper, who doth not know that an
epithet in tragedy is very often no other than an expletive. Do not
we read in the New Sophonisba of "grinding chains, blue plagues, white
occasions, and blue serenity?" Nay, it is not the adjective only, but
sometimes half a sentence is put by way of expletive, as, "Beauty
pointed high with spirit," in the same play; and, "In the lap of
blessing, to be most curst," in the Revenge.
]
SCENE VII.--_Plain_.--GRIZZLE, FOODLE, Rebels.
_Griz_. Thus far our arms with victory are crown'd;
For, though we have not fought, yet we have found
[1] No enemy to fight withal.
[Footnote 1: A victory like that of Almanzor:
Almanzor is victorious without fight.--_Conq. of Granada_.
]
_Food_. Yet I,
Methinks, would willingly avoid this day,
[1] This first of April, to engage our foes.
[Footnote 1: Well have we chose an happy day for fight;
For every man, in course of time, has found
Some days are lucky, some unfortunate.--_King Arthur_.
]
_Griz_. This day, of all the days of th' year, I'd choose,
For on this day my grandmother was born.
Gods! I will make Tom Thumb an April-fool;
[1] Will teach his wit an errand it ne'er knew,
And send it post to the Elysian shades.
[Footnote 1: We read of such another in Lee:
Teach his rude wit a flight she never made,
And send her post to the Elysian shade.--_Gloriana_.
]
_Food_. I'm glad to find our army is so stout,
Nor does it move my wonder less than joy.
_Griz_. [1] What friends we have, and how we came so strong,
I'll softly tell you as we march along.
[Footnote 1: These lines are copied verbatim in the Indian Emperor.]
SCENE VIII.--_Thunder and Lightning_.--TOM THUMB,
GLUMDALCA, _cum suis_.
_Thumb_. Oh, Noodle! hast thou seen a day like this?
[1] The unborn thunder rumbles o'er our heads,
[2] As if the gods meant to unhinge the world,
And heaven and earth in wild confusion hurl;
Yet will I boldly tread the tott'ring ball.
[Footnote 1:
Unborn thunder rolling in a cloud.--_Conq. of Granada_.
]
[Footnote 2:
Were heaven and earth in wild confusion hurl'd,
Should the rash gods unhinge the rolling world,
Undaunted would I tread the tott'ring ball,
Crush'd, but unconquer'd, in the dreadful fall.
--_Female Warrior_.
]
_Merl_. Tom Thumb!
_Thumb_. What voice is this I hear?
_Merl_. Tom Thumb!
_Thumb_. Again it calls.
_Merl_. Tom Thumb!
_Glum_. It calls again.
_Thumb_. Appear, whoe'er thou art; I fear thee not.
_Merl_. Thou hast no cause to fear--I am thy friend,
Merlin by name, a conjuror by trade,
And to my art thou dost thy being owe.
_Thumb_. How!
_Merl_. Hear, then, the mystick getting of Tom Thumb.
[1] His father was a ploughman plain,
His mother milk'd the cow;
And yet the way to get a son
This couple knew not how,
Until such time the good old man
To learned Merlin goes,
And there to him, in great distress,
In secret manner shows
How in his heart he wish'd to have
A child, in time to come,
To be his heir, though it may be
No bigger than his thumb:
Of which old Merlin was foretold
That he his wish should have;
And so a son of stature small
The charmer to him gave.
Thou'st heard the past--look up and see the future.
[Footnote 1: See the History of Tom Thumb, page 2.]
_Thumb_. [1] Lost in amazement's gulf, my senses sink;
See there, Glumdalca, see another [2] me!
[Footnote 1:
Amazement swallows up my sense,
And in the impetuous whirl of circling fate
Drinks down my reason.--_Persian Princess_.
]
[Footnote 2:
I have outfaced myself.
What! am I two? Is there another me?--_King Arthur_.
]
_Glum_. Oh, sight of horror! see, you are devour'd
By the expanded jaws of a red cow.
_Merl_. Let not these sights deter thy noble mind,
[1] For, lo! a sight more glorious courts thy eyes.
See from afar a theatre arise;
There ages, yet unborn, shall tribute pay
To the heroick actions of this day;
Then buskin tragedy at length shall chuse
Thy name the best supporter of her muse.
[Footnote 1: The character of Merlin is wonderful throughout; but most
so in this prophetick part. We find several of these prophecies in the
tragick authors, who frequently take this opportunity to pay a
compliment to their country, and sometimes to their prince. None but
our author (who seems to have detested the least appearance of
flattery) would have past by such an opportunity of being a political
prophet.]
_Thumb_. Enough: let every warlike musick sound,
We fall contented, if we fall renown'd.
SCENE IX.--LORD GRIZZLE, FOODLE, Rebels, _on one
side_; TOM THUMB, GLUMDALCA, _on the other_.
_Food_. At length the enemy advances nigh,
[1] I hear them with my ear, and see them with my eye.
[Footnote 1:
I saw the villain, Myron; with these eyes I saw him.
--_Busiris_.
In both which places it is intimated that it is sometimes possible to
see with other eyes than your own.
]
_Griz_. Draw all your swords: for liberty we fight,
[1] And liberty the mustard is of life.
[Footnote 1: "This mustard," says Mr D., "is enough to turn one's
stomach. I would be glad to know what idea the author had in his head
when he wrote it." This will be, I believe, best explained by a line
of Mr Dennis:
And gave him liberty, the salt of life.--_Liberty Asserted_.
The understanding that can digest the one will not rise at the other.]
_Thumb_. Are you the man whom men famed Grizzle name?
_Griz_. [1] Are you the much more famed Tom Thumb?
[Footnote 1:
_Han_. Are you the chief whom men famed Scipio call?
_Scip_. Are you the much more famous Hannibal?
--_Hannibal_.
]
_Thumb_. The same.
_Griz_. Come on; our worth upon ourselves we'll prove;
For liberty I fight.
_Thumb_. And I for love.
[_A bloody engagement between the two armies here; drums beating,
trumpets sounding, thunder and lightning. They fight off and on
several times. Some fall_. GRIZ. _and_ GLUM. _remain_.
_Glum_. Turn, coward, turn; nor from a woman fly.
_Griz_. Away--thou art too ignoble for my arm.
_Glum_. Have at thy heart.
_Griz_. Nay, then I thrust at thine.
_Glum_. You push too well; you've run me through the guts,
And I am dead.
_Griz_. Then there's an end of one.
Thumb_. When thou art dead, then there's an end of two,
[1] Villain.
[Footnote 1: Dr. Young seems to have copied this engagement in his
Busiris:
_Myr_. Villain!
_Mem_. Myron!
_Myr_. Rebel!
_Mem_. Myron!
_Myr_. Hell!
_Mem_. Mandane!
]
_Griz_. Tom Thumb!
_Thumb_. Rebel!
_Griz_. Tom Thumb!
_Thumb_. Hell!
_Griz_. Huncamunca!
_Thumb_. Thou hast it there.
_Griz_. Too sure I feel it.
_Thumb_. To hell then, like a rebel as you are,
And give my service to the rebels there.
_Griz_. Triumph not, Thumb, nor think thou shalt enjoy,
Thy Huncamunca undisturb'd; I'll send
[1] My ghost to fetch her to the other world;
[2] It shall but bait at heaven, and then return.
[3] But, ha! I feel death rumbling in my brains:
[4] Some kinder sprite knocks softly at my soul,
And gently whispers it to haste away.
I come, I come, most willingly I come.
[5] So when some city wife, for country air,
To Hampstead or to Highgate does repair,
Her to make haste her husband does implore,
And cries, "My dear, the coach is at the door:"
With equal wish, desirous to be gone,
She gets into the coach, and then she cries--"Drive on!"
[Footnote 1: This last speech of my lord Grizzle hath been of great
service to our poets:
I'll hold it fast
As life, and when life's gone I'll hold this last;
And if thou tak'st it from me when I'm slain,
I'll send my ghost, and fetch it back again.
--_Conquest of Granada_.
]
[Footnote 2: My soul should with such speed obey,
It should not bait at heaven to stop its way.
Lee seems to have had this last in his eye:
'Twas not my purpose, sir, to tarry there;
I would but go to heaven to take the air.--_Gloriana_.
]
[Footnote 3:
A rising vapour rumbling in my brains.--_Cleomenes_.
]
[Footnote 4:
Some kind sprite knocks softly at my soul,
To tell me fate's at hand.
]
[Footnote 5: Mr Dryden seems to have had this simile in his eye, when he
says,
My soul is packing up, and just on wing.
--_Conquest of Granada_.
]
_Thumb_. With those last words [1] he vomited his soul,
Which, [2] like whipt cream, the devil will swallow down.
Bear off the body, and cut off the head,
Which I will to the king in triumph lug.
Rebellion's dead, and now I'll go to breakfast.
[Footnote 1: And in a purple vomit pour'd his soul
--_Cleomenes_.
]
[Footnote 2: The devil swallows vulgar souls Like whipt cream.
--_Sebastian_.
]
SCENE X.--KING, QUEEN, HUNCAMUNCA, Courtiers.
_King_. Open the prisons, set the wretched free,
And bid our treasurer disburse six pounds
To pay their debts.--Let no one weep to-day.
Come, Dollallolla; [1] curse that odious name!
It is so long, it asks an hour to speak it.
By heavens! I'll change it into Doll, or Loll,
Or any other civil monosyllable,
That will not tire my tongue.--Come, sit thee down.
Here seated let us view the dancers' sports;
Bid 'em advance. This is the wedding-day
Of Princess Huncamunca and Tom Thumb;
Tom Thumb! who wins two victories [2] to-day,
And this way marches, bearing Grizzle's head.
[_A dance here._
[Footnote 1:
How I could curs my name of Ptolemy!
It is so long, it asks an hour to write it,
By Heaven! I'll change it into Jove or Mars!
Or any other civil monosyllable,
That will not tire my hand.
--_Cleomenes_.
]
[Footnote 2: Here is a visible conjunction of two days in one, by
which our author may have either intended an emblem of a wedding, or
to insinuate that men in the honey-moon are apt to imagine time
shorter than it is. It brings into my mind a passage in the comedy
called the Coffee-House Politician:
We will celebrate this day at my house to-morrow.
]
[Illustration: The Death of Lord Grizzle.]
_Nood_. Oh! monstrous, dreadful, terrible, oh! oh!
Deaf be my ears, for ever blind my eyes!
Dumb be my tongue! feet lame! all senses lost!
[1] Howl wolves, grunt bears, hiss snakes, shriek all ye 'ghosts!
[Footnote 1: These beautiful phrases are all to be found in one single
speech of King Arthur, or the British Worthy.]
_King_. What does the blockhead mean?
_Nood_. I mean, my liege,
[1] Only to grace my tale with decent horror.
Whilst from my garret, twice two stories high,
I look'd abroad into the streets below,
I saw Tom Thumb attended by the mob;
Twice twenty shoe-boys, twice two dozen links,
Chairmen and porters, hackney-coachmen, whores;
Aloft he bore the grizly head of Grizzle;
When of a sudden through the streets there came
A cow, of larger than the usual size,
And in a moment--guess, oh! guess the rest!--
And in a moment swallow'd up Tom Thumb.
[Footnote 1:
I was but teaching him to grace his tale
With decent horror. --_Cleomenes_.
]
_King_. Shut up again the prisons, bid my treasurer
Not give three farthings out-hang all the culprits,
Guilty or not--no matter.--Ravish virgins:
Go bid the schoolmasters whip all their boys!
Let lawyers, parsons, and physicians loose,
To rob, impose on, and to kill the world.
_Nood_. Her majesty the queen is in a swoon.
_Queen_. Not so much in a swoon but I have still
Strength to reward the messenger of ill news.
[_Kills_ NOODLE.
_Nood_. O! I am slain.
_Cle_. My lover's kill'd, I will revenge him so.
[_Kills the_ QUEEN.
_Hunc_. My mamma kill'd! vile murderess, beware.
[_Kills_ CLEORA.
_Dood_. This for an old grudge to thy heart.
[_Kills_ HUNCAMUNCA.
_Must_. And this
I drive to thine, O Doodle! for a new one.
[_Kills_ DOODLE.
_King_. Ha! murderess vile, take that. [_Kills_ MUST.
[1] And take thou this. [_Kills himself, and falls_.
So when the child, whom nurse from danger guards,
Sends Jack for mustard with a pack of cards,
Kings, queens, and knaves, throw one another down,
Till the whole pack lies scatter'd and o'erthrown;
So all our pack upon the floor is cast,
And all I boast is--that I fall the last. [_Dies_.
[Footnote 1: We may say with Dryden,
Death did at length so many slain forget,
And left the tale, and took them by the great.
I know of no tragedy which comes nearer to this charming and bloody
catastrophe than Cleomenes, where the curtain covers five principal
characters dead on the stage. These lines too--
I ask no questions then, of who kill'd who?
The bodies tell the story as they lie--
seem to have belonged more properly to this scene of our author; nor
can I help imagining they were originally his, The Rival Ladies, too,
seem beholden to this scene:
We're now a chain of lovers link'd in death;
Julia goes first, Gonsalvo hangs on her,
And Angelina hangs upon Gonsalvo,
As I on Angelina.
No scene, I believe, ever received greater honours than this. It was
applauded by several encores, a word very unusual in tragedy. And it
was very difficult for the actors to escape without a second
slaughter. This I take to be a lively assurance of that fierce spirit
of liberty which remains among us, and which Mr Dryden, in his essay
on Dramatick Poetry, hath observed: "Whether custom," says he, "hath
so insinuated itself into our countrymen, or nature hath so formed
them to fierceness, I know not; but they will scarcely suffer combats
and other objects of horror to be taken from them." And indeed I am
for having them encouraged in this martial disposition; nor do I
believe our victories over the French have been owing to anything more
than to those bloody spectacles daily exhibited in our tragedies, of
which the French stage is so intirely clear.
]
* * * * *
PASQUIN;
A DRAMATICK SATIRE ON THE TIMES
BEING THE REHEARSAL OF TWO PLAYS: VIZ.,
A COMEDY CALLED
THE ELECTION,
AND A TRAGEDY CALLED
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF
COMMON SENSE.
FIRST ACTED IN APRIL 1736.
_DRAMATIS PERSONAe_.
_Trapwit_, Author . . . . . . . . . Mr ROBERTS,
_Fustian_, Author . . . . . . . . . Mr LACY.
_Sneerwell_ (a critick) . . . . . . Mr MACHEN.
Several Players and Prompter.
PERSONS IN THE COMEDY.
_Lord Place_, Candidate . . . . . Mrs CHARKE,
_Colonel Promise_, Candidate . . Mr FREEMAN,
_Sir Henry Fox-Chace_, Candidate . . Mr TOPHAM,
_Squire Tankard_, Candidate . . . Mr SMITH,
_Mayor_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr JONES.
_Aldermen, Voters, &c_.
_Mrs Mayoress_ . . . . . . . . . Mrs EGERTON.
_Miss Mayoress_ . . . . . . . . . Miss J. JONES.
_Miss Stitch_ . . . . . . . . . . Miss BURGESS.
_Servants, Mob, &c_.
PERSONS IN THE TRAGEDY.
_Queen Common-Sense_ . . . . . . Mrs EGERTON.
_Queen Ignorance_ . . . . . . . . Mr STRENSHAM.
_Firebrand_ (Priest of the Sun) . Mr ROBERTS.
_Law_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr YATES.
_Physick_ . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr JONES.
_Ghost of Tragedy_ . . . . . . . Mr PULLEN.
_Ghost of Comedy_ . . . . . . . . Mr JONES.
_Third Ghost_ . . . . . . . . . . Mr WALLIS.
_Harlequin_ . . . . . . . . . . . Mr PULLEN.
_Officer_ . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr PULLEN.
_Messenger_ . . . . . . . . . . . Mr WALLIS.
_Drummer_ . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr LOWDER.
_Attendants on Ignorance, Maids of Honour, &c_.
SCENE, the Play-House.
ACT I.
SCENE I.--_Enter several_ Players.
1 _Play_. When does the rehearsal begin?
2 _Play_. I suppose we shall hardly rehearse the comedy this
morning, for the author was arrested as he was going home from King's
coffee-house; and, as I heard it was for upward of four pound, I
suppose he will hardly get bail.
1 _Play_. Where's the tragedy-author then? I have a long part in
both, and it's past ten o'clock.
_Wom. P_. Ay, I have a part in both too; I wish any one else had
them, for they are not seven lengths put together. I think it is very
hard a woman of my standing should have a short part put upon her. I
suppose Mrs Merit will have all our principal parts now, but I am
resolved I'll advertise against her. I'll let the town know how I am
injured.
1 _Play_. Oh! here comes our tragedy-poet.
_Enter_ FUSTIAN.
_Fust_. Gentlemen, your servant; ladies, yours. I should have
been here sooner, but I have been obliged, at their own requests, to
wait upon some half-dozen persons of the first quality with tickets:
upon my soul 1 have been chid for putting off my play so long. I hope
you are all quite perfect, for the town will positively stay for it
no longer. I think I may very well put upon the bills, _At the
particular desire of several ladles of quality_, the first night.
_Enter_ Prompter.
_Promp_. Mr Fustian, we must defer the rehearsal of your
tragedy, for the gentleman who plays the first ghost is not yet up;
and when he is, he has got such a churchyard-cough he will not be
heard to the middle of the pit.
1 _Play_. I wish you could cut the ghost out, sir, for I am
terribly afraid he'll be damned if you don't.
_Fust_. Cut him out, sir? He is one of the most considerable
persons in the play.
_Promp_. Then, sir, you must give the part to somebody else; for
the present is so lame he can hardly walk the stage.
_Fust_. Then he shall be carried, for no man in England can act
a ghost like him. Sir, he was born a ghost--he was made for the
part--and the part writ for him.
_Promp_. Well, sir, then we hope you will give us leave to
rehearse the comedy first.
_Fust_. Ay, ay, you may rehearse it first, if you please, and
act it first too. If it keeps mine back above three nights, I am
mistaken. I don't know what friends the author may have; but if ever
such stuff, such damned, incoherent, senseless stuff, was ever
brought on any stage--if the audience suffer it to go through three
acts--Oh! he's here.
_Enter_ TRAPWIT.
Dear Mr Trapwit! your most humble servant, sir; I read your comedy
over last night, and a most excellent one it is: if it runs as long
as it deserves you will engross the whole season to yourself.
_Trap_. Sir, I am glad it met with your approbation, as there is
no man whose taste and judgment I have a better opinion of. But pray,
sir, why don't they proceed to the rehearsal of your tragedy? I
assure you, sir, I had much difficulty to get hither so early.
2 _Play_. Yes, faith, I believe you had. [_Aside_.
_Fust_. Sir, your comedy is to be rehearsed first.
_Trap_. Excuse me, sir, I know the deference due to tragedy
better.
_Fust_. Sir, I would not have you think I give up the cause of
tragedy; but my ghost, being ill, sir, cannot get up without danger,
and I would not risque the life of my ghost on any account.
_Trap_. You are in the right on't, sir; for a ghost is the soul
of tragedy.
_Fust_. Ay, sir, I think it is not amiss to remind people of
those things which they are now-a-days too apt to disbelieve;
besides, we have lately had an act against witches, and I don't
question but shortly we shall have one against ghosts. But come, Mr
Trapwit, as we are for this once to give the precedence to comedy,
e'en let us begin.
_Trap_. Ay, ay, with all my heart. Come, come, where's the
gentleman who speaks the prologue? This prologue, Mr Fustian, was
given me by a friend, who does not care to own it till he tries
whether it succeeds or no.
_Enter_ Player _for the Prologue_.
Come, sir, make a very low bow to the audience; and shew as much
concern as possible in your looks.
PROLOGUE.
As crafty lawyers, to acquire applause,
Try various arts to get a doubtful cause;
Or, as a dancing master in a jigg,
With various steps instructs the dancing prig;
Or as a doctor writes you different bills;
Or as a quack prescribes you different pills;
Or as a fiddler plays more tunes than one;
Or as a baker bakes more bread than brown;
Or as a tumbler tumbles up and down;
So does our author, rummaging his brain,
By various methods try to entertain;
Brings a strange groupe of characters before you,
And shews you here at once both Whig and Tory;
Or court and country party you may call 'em:
But without fear and favour he will maul 'em.
To you, then, mighty sages of the pit--
_Trap_. Oh! dear sir, seem a little more affected, I beseech
you; advance to the front of the stage, make a low bow, lay your hand
upon your heart, fetch a deep sigh, and pull out your handkerchief:
To you, then, mighty sages of the pit--
_Prol_. To you, then, mighty sages of the pit,
Our author humbly does his cause submit.
He trys to please--oh! take it not amiss:
And though it should be dull, oh! do not hiss;
Laugh, if you can--if you cannot laugh, weep:
When you can wake no longer--fall asleep.
_Trap_. Very well! very well, sir! You have affected me, I am
sure.
_Fust_. And so he will the audience, I'll answer for them.
_Trap_. Oh, sir, you're too good-natured; but, sir, I do assure
you I had writ a much better prologue of my own; but, as this came
gratis, have reserved it for my next play--a prologue saved is a
prologue got, brother Fustian. But come, where are your actors? Is
Mr Mayor and the Aldermen at the table?
_Promp_. Yes, sir; but they want wine, and we can get none from
the quaker's cellar without ready money.
_Trap_. Rat him! can't he trust till the third night? Here,
take sixpence, and fetch two pots of porter, put it into bottles, and
it will do for wine well enough.
_Fust_. Ay, faith, and the wine will be as good as the wit, I'll
answer for it. [_Aside_.
_Trap_. Mr Fustian, you'll observe I do not begin this play,
like most of our modern comedies, with three or four gentlemen who
are brought on only to talk wit; for, to tell you the truth, sir, I
have very little, if any, wit in this play. No, sir, this is a play
consisting of humour, nature, and simplicity. It is written, sir, in
the exact and true spirit of Moliere: and this I will say for it,
that, except about a dozen, or a score or so, there is not one impure
joke in it. But come, clear the stage, and draw the back scene! Mr
Fustian, if you please to sit down by me.
[Mayor _and_ Aldermen _discovered_.
_Fust_. Pray, sir, who are these characters?
_Trap_. Sir, they are Mr Mayor of the town and his brethren,
consulting about the election.
_Fust_. Are they all of a side, sir?
_Trap_. Yes, sir, as yet; for you must know, sir, that all the
men in this borough are very sensible people, and have no party
principles for which they cannot give a good reason; Mr Mayor, you
begin the play.
_May_. Gentlemen, I have summoned you together to consider of
proper representatives for this borough: you know the candidates on
the court side are my lord Place and colonel Promise; the country
candidates are Sir Henry Fox-chace and squire Tankard; all worthy
gentlemen, and I wish with all my heart we could chuse them all four.
1 _Ald_. But since we cannot, Mr Mayor, I think we should stand
by our neighbours; gentlemen whose honesty we are witnesses of, and
whose estates in our own neighbourhood render 'em not liable to be
bribed.
_Fust_. This gentleman, Mr Trapwit, does not seem so unbiassed
in his principles as you represented him.
_Trap_. Pugh, sir! you must have one fool in a play; beside, I
only writ him to set off the rest.
_May_. Mr Alderman, you have a narrow way of thinking; honesty
is not confined to a country; a man that lives a hundred miles off
may be as honest as him who lives but three.
_Ald_. Ay, ay, ay, ay. [_Shaking their heads_.
_May_. Besides, gentlemen, are we not more obliged to a
foreigner for the favours he does us than to one of our own
neighbours who has obligations to us? I believe, gentlemen, there is
not one of us who does not eat and drink with Sir Harry at least
twenty times in a twelvemonth; now, for my part, I never saw or heard
of either my lord or the colonel till within this fortnight; and yet
they are as obliging, and civil and familiar, as if we had been born
and bred together.
1 _Ald_. Nay, they are very civil, well-bred men, that is the
truth on't; but won't they bring a standing army upon us?
_May_. Mr Alderman, you are deceived; the country party will
bring a standing army upon us; whereas, if we chuse my lord and the
colonel, we shan't have a soldier in town. But, mum! here are my lord
and the colonel.
_Enter_ Lord PLACE _and_ Col. PROMISE.
_Place_. Gentlemen, your most humble servant; I have brought the
colonel to take a morning's whet with you.
_May_. Your lordship and the colonel do us great honour; pray,
my lord, be pleased to sit down; pray, colonel, be pleased to
sit. More wine here.
_Fust_. I wish, Mr Trapwit, your actors don't get drunk in the
first act.
_Trap_. Dear sir, don't interrupt the rehearsal.
_Place_. Gentlemen, prosperity to the corporation!
_Fust_. Sir, I am a well-wisher to the corporation, and, if you
please, will pledge his lordship:--success to your comedy, Mr
Trapwit. [_Drinks_.
_Trap_. Give me a glass--sir, here's to your tragedy. Now,
pray, no more interruption; for this scene is one continual joke, and
if you open your lips in it you will break the thread of the jest.
_May_. My lord, we are sensible of your great power to serve
this corporation, and we do not doubt but we shall feel the effect
on't.
_Place_. Gentlemen, you may depend on me; I shall do all in my
power. I shall do you some services which are not proper at present
to mention to you; in the meantime, Mr Mayor, give me leave to
squeeze you by the hand, in assurance of my sincerity.
_Trap_. You, Mr, that act my lord, bribe a little more openly,
if you please, or the audience will lose that joke, and it is one of
the strongest in my whole play.
_Place_. Sir, I cannot possibly do it better at the table.
_Trap_. Then get all up, and come forward to the front of the
stage. Now, you gentlemen that act the mayor and aldermen, range
yourselves in a line; and you, my lord and the colonel, come to one
end and bribe away with right and left.
_Fust_. Is this wit, Mr Trapwit?
_Trap_. Yes, sir, it is wit; and such wit as will run all over
the kingdom.
_Fust_. But, methinks, colonel Promise, as you call him, is but
ill-named; for he is a man of very few words.
_Trap_. You'll be of another opinion before the play is over; at
present his hands are too full of business; and you may remember,
sir, I before told you this is none of your plays wherein much is
said and nothing done. Gentlemen, are you all bribed?
_Omnes_. Yes, sir.
_Trap_. Then, my lord and the colonel, you must go off, and
make room for the other candidates to come on and bribe too.
[_Exeunt_ PLACE _and_ PROMISE.
_Fust_. Is there nothing but bribery in this play of yours, Mr
Trapwit?
_Trap_. Sir, this play is an exact representation of nature; I
hope the audience will date the time of action before the bill of
bribery and corruption took place; and then I believe it may go down;
but now, Mr Fustian, I shall shew you the art of a writer, which is,
to diversify his matter, and do the same thing several ways. You must
know, sir, I distinguish bribery into two kinds, the direct and the
indirect: the first you have seen already; and now, sir, I shall give
you a small specimen of the other. Prompter, call Sir Harry and the
squire. But, gentlemen, what are you doing? How often shall I tell
you that the moment the candidates are gone out you are to retire to
the table, and drink and look wise; you, Mr Mayor, ought to look very
wise.
_Fust_. You'll take care he shall talk foolish enough, I'll
warrant you. [_Aside_.
_May_. Come, here's a round to my lord and the colonel's health;
a Place and a Promise, I say; they may talk of the pride of
courtiers, but I am sure I never had a civiller squeeze by the hand
in my life.
_Trap_. Ay, you have squeezed that out pretty well: but shew the
gold at these words, sir, if you please.
_May_. I have none.
_Trap_. Pray, Mr Prompter, take care to get some counters
against it is acted.
_Fust_. Ha, ha, ha! upon my word the courtiers have topt their
part; the actor has outdone the author; this bribing with an empty
hand is quite in the character of a courtier.
_Trap_. Come, enter Sir Harry and the squire. Where are they?
I _Play_. Sir, Mr Soundwell has been regularly summoned, but he
has refused to act the part.
_Trap_. Has he been writ to?
I _Play_. Yes, sir, and here's his answer.
_Trap_. Let both the letters be produced before the
audience. Pray, Mr Prompter, who shall we have to act the part?
I _Play_. Sir, I like the part so well that I have studied it in
the hope of some time playing it.
_Trap_. You are an exceeding pretty young fellow, and I am very
glad of the exchange.
_Sir H_. Halloo, hark forwards: hark, honest Ned, good-morrow to
you; how dost, Master Mayor? What, you are driving it about merrily
this morning? Come, come, sit down; the squire and I will take a pot
with you. Come, Mr Mayor, here's--liberty and property and no excise.
_May_. Sir Harry, your health.
_Sir H_. What, won't you pledge me? Won't you drink no excise?
_May_. I don't love party healths, Sir Harry.
_All Ald_. No, no; no party healths, no party healths.
_Sir H_. Say ye so, gentlemen? I begin to smoke you; your pulses
have been felt, I perceive: and will you be bribed to sell your
country? Where do you think these courtiers get the money they bribe
you with, but from yourselves? Do you think a man who will give a
bribe won't take one? If you would be served faithfully, you must
choose faithfully, and give your vote on no consideration but merit;
for my part, I would as soon suborn an evidence at an assize as a
vote at an election.
_May_. I do believe you, Sir Harry.
_Sir H_. Mr Mayor, I hope you received those three bucks I sent
you, and that they were good.
_May_. Sir Harry, I thank you for them; but 'tis so long since I
eat them that I have forgot the taste.
_Sir H_. We'll try to revive it--I'll order you three more
to-morrow morning.
_May_. You will surfeit us with venison: you will indeed; for it
is a dry meat, Sir Harry, a very dry meat.
_Sir H_. We'll find a way to moisten it, I'll warrant you, if
there be any wine in town. Mr Alderman Stitch, your bill is too
reasonable; you certainly must lose by it: send me in half a dozen
more greatcoats, pray; my servants are the dirtiest dogs! Mr Damask,
I believe you are afraid to trust me, by those few yards of silk you
sent my wife; she likes the pattern so extremely she is resolved to
hang her rooms with it; pray let me have a hundred yards of it; I
shall want more of you. Mr Timber, and you, Mr Iron, I shall get into
your books too.
_Fust_. Would not that getting into books have been more in the
character of the courtier, Mr Trapwit?
_Trap_. Go on, go on, sir.
_Sir H_. That gentleman interrupts one so.--Oh, now I
remember--Mr Timber, and you Mr Iron, I shall get into your books
too; though if I do, I assure you I won't continue in them long.
_Trap_. Now, sir, would it have been more in the character of a
courtier? But you are like all our modern criticks, who damn a man
before they have heard a man out; when, if they would but stay till
the joke came--
_Fust_. They would stay to hear your last words, I believe.
[_Aside_.
_Sir H_. For you must know, gentlemen, that I intend to pull
down my old house, and build a new one.
_Trap_. Pray, gentlemen, observe all to start at the word
_house_. Sir Harry, that last speech again, pray.
_Sir H_. For you, &c.----Mr Mayor, I must have all my bricks of
you.
_May_. And do you intend to rebuild your house, Sir Harry?
_Sir H_. Positively.
_May_. Gentlemen, methinks Sir Harry's toast stands still; will
nobody drink liberty and property, and no excise?
[_They all drink and huzza_.
_Sir H_. Give me thy hand, mayor; I hate bribery and corruption:
if this corporation will not suffer itself to be bribed, there shall
not be a poor man in it.
_May_. And he that will, deserves to be poor; for my part, the
world should not bribe me to vote against my conscience.
_Trap_. Do you take that joke, sir?
_Fust_. No, faith, sir.
_Trap_. Why, how can a man vote against his conscience who has
no conscience at all?
_1 Ald_. Come, gentlemen, here's a Fox-chace and a Tankard!
_Omnes_. A Fox-chace and a Tankard! huzza!
_Sir H_. Come, let's have one turn in the marketplace, and then
we'll to dinner.
_May_. Let's fill the air with our repeated cries Of liberty,
and property, and no excise.
[_Exeunt_ Mayor _and_ Aldermen.
_Trap_. How do you like that couplet, sir?
_Fust_. Oh! very fine, sir!
_Trap_. This is the end of the first act, sir.
_Fust_. I cannot but observe, Mr Trapwit, how nicely you have
opposed squire Tankard to colonel Promise; neither of whom have yet
uttered one syllable.
_Trap_. Why, you would not have every man a speaker, would you?
One of a side is sufficient; and let me tell you, sir, one is full
enough to utter all that the party has to say for itself.
_Fust_. Methinks, sir, you should let the audience know they can
speak, if it were but an _ay_ or a _no_.
_Trap_. Sir, the audience must know that already; for if they
could not say _ay_ and _no_, they would not be qualified
for candidates.
_Fust_. Oh! your humble servant, I am answered; but pray, sir,
what is the action of this play?
_Trap_. The action, sir?
_Fust_. Yes, sir, the fable, the design?
_Trap_. Oh! you ask who is to be married? Why, sir, I have a
marriage; I hope you think I understand the laws of comedy better
than to write without marrying somebody.
_Fust_. But is that the main design to which everything
conduces?
_Trap_. Yes, sir.
_Fust_. Faith, sir, I can't for the soul of me see how what has
hitherto past can conduce at all to that end.
_Trap_. You can't? indeed, I believe you can't; for that is the
whole plot of my play: and do you think I am like your shallow
writers of comedy, who publish the bans of marriage between all the
couples in their play in the first act? No, sir, I defy you to guess
my couple till the thing is done, slap all at once; and that too by
an incident arising from the main business of the play, and to which
everything conduces.
_Fust_. That will, indeed, surprise me.
_Trap_. Sir, you are not the first man my writings have
surprised. But what's become of all our players?--Here, who begins
the second act?--Prompter!
_Enter_ 1st Player.
_I Play_. Sir, the prompter and most of the players are drinking
tea in the green-room.
_Trap_. Mr Fustian, shall we drink a dish of tea with them?
Come, sir, as you have a part in my play, you shall drink a dish with
us.
_I Play_. Sir, I dare not go into the green-room; my salary is
not high enough: I shall be forfeited if I go in there.
_Trap_. Pshaw! come along; your sister has merit enough for
herself and you too: if they forfeit you, I'll warrant she'll take it
off again.
ACT II.
SCENE I.--_Enter_ TRAPWIT, FUSTIAN, Prompter, Lord PLACE, Mrs and
Miss Mayoress.
_Trap_. I am afraid, Mr Fustian, you have hitherto suspected
that I was a dabbler in low comedy; now, sir, you shall see some
scenes of politeness and fine conversation among the ladies. Come, my
lord, come, begin.
_Place_. Pray, Mrs Mayoress, what do you think this lace cost a
yard?
_Fust_. A very pretty beginning of polite conversation, truly.
_Trap_. Sir, in this play I keep exactly up to nature, nor is
there anything said in this scene that I have not heard come out of
the mouths of the finest people of the age. Sir, this scene has cost
me ten shillings in chair-hire, to keep the best company, as it is
called.
_Mrs M_. Indeed, my lord, I cannot guess it at less than ten
pounds a yard.
_Place_. Pray, madam, was you at the last ridotto?
_Fust_. Ridotto! the devil! a country mayoress at a ridotto!
Sure, that is out of character, Mr Trapwit!
_Trap_. Sir, a conversation of this nature cannot be earned on
without these helps; besides, sir, this country mayoress, as you call
her, may be allowed to know something of the town; for you must know,
sir, that she has been woman to a woman of quality.
_Fust_. I am glad to hear that.
_Mrs M_. Oh, my lord! mention not those dear ridottos to me, who
have been confined these twelve long months in the country; where we
have no entertainment but a set of hideous strolling players; nor
have I seen any one human creature till your lordship came to
town. Heaven send us a controverted election! then I shall go to
that dear delightful place once more.
_Miss M_. Yes, mama, and then we shall see Faribelly, the
strange man-woman that they say is with child; and the fine pictures
of Merlin's cave at the playhouses; and the rope-dancing and the
tumbling.
_Fust_. By miss's taste I believe she has been bred up under a
woman of quality too.
_Place_. I cannot but with pleasure observe, madam, the polite
taste miss shows in her choice of entertainments; I dare swear she
will be much admired in the beau monde, and I don't question but will
be soon taken into keeping by some man of quality.
_Miss M_. Keeping, my lord?
_Place_. Ay, that surprize looks well enough in one so young,
that does not know the world; but, miss, every one now keeps and is
kept; there are no such things as marriages now-a-days, unless merely
Smithfield contracts, and that for the support of families; but then
the husband and wife both take into keeping within a fortnight.
_Mrs M_. My lord, I would have my girl act like other young
ladies; but she does not know any men of quality, who shall introduce
her to 'em?
_Place_. That, madam, must be your part; you must take a house
and see company; in a little while you may keep an assembly, and play
at cards as high as you can; and almost all the money that is won
must be put into the box, which you must call _paying for the
cards_; though it is indeed paying for your candles, your cloaths,
your lodgings, and, in short, everything you have. I know some
persons who make a very considerable figure in town, whose whole
estate lies in their card-box.
_Mrs M_. And have I been so long contented to be the wife of a
poor country tradesman, when I might have had all this happiness?
_Fust_. How comes this lady, Mr Trapwit, considering her
education, to be so ignorant of all these things?
_Trap_. 'Gad, that's true; I had forgot her education, faith,
when I writ that speech; it's a fault I sometimes fall into--a man
ought to have the memory of a devil to remember every little thing;
but come, go on, go on--I'll alter it by and by.
_Place_. Indeed, madam, it is a miserable state of life; I hope
we shall have no such people as tradesmen shortly; I can't see any
use they are of: if I am chose, I'll bring in a bill to extirpate all
trade out of the nation.
_Mrs M_. Yes, my lord, that would do very well amongst people of
quality who don't want money.
_Fust_. Again! Sure Mrs Mayoress knows very little of people of
quality, considering she has lived amongst them.
_Trap_. Lord, sir, you are so troublesome. Then she has not
lived amongst people of quality, she has lived where I please; but
suppose we should suppose she had been woman to a lady of quality,
may we not also suppose she was turned away in a fortnight, and then
what could she know, sir? Go on, go on.
_Place_. Alack-a-day, madam, when I mention trade, I only mean
low, dull, mechanick trade, such as the canaille practise; there are
several trades reputable enough, which people of fashion may
practise; such as gaming, intriguing, voting, and running in debt.
_Trap_. Come, enter a servant, and whisper my lord.
[_Enter a_ Servant.] Pray, sir, mind your cue of entrance.
[_Exit_ Servant.
_Place_. Ladies, a particular affair obliges me to lose so good
company. I am your most obedient servant.
[_Exit_.
_Mrs M_. He is a prodigious fine gentleman.
_Miss M_. But must I go into keeping, mama?
_Mrs M_. Child, you must do what's in fashion.
_Miss M_. But I have heard that's a naughty thing.
_Mrs M_. That can't be if your betters do it; people are
punished for doing naughty things, but people of quality are never
punished; therefore they never do any naughty things.
_Fust_. An admirable syllogism, and quite in character.
_Trap_. Pshaw, dear sir! don't trouble me with character; it's a
good thing; and if it's a good thing, what signifies who says
it?--Come, enter the mayor drunk.
_Enter_ Mayor.
_May_. Liberty and property, and no excise, wife.
_Mrs M_. Ah! filthy beast, come not near me.
_May_. But I will, though; I am for liberty and property; I'll
vote for no courtiers, wife.
_Mrs M_. Indeed, but you shall, sir.
_Miss M_. I hope you won't vote for a nasty stinking Tory, papa.
_May_. What a pox! are you for the courtiers too?
_Miss M_. Yes, I hope I am a friend to my country; I am not for
bringing in the pope.
_May_. No, nor I an't for a standing army.
_Mrs M_. But I am for a standing army, sir; a standing army is a
good thing: you pretend to be afraid of your liberties and your
properties--you are afraid of your wives and daughters: I love to see
soldiers in the town; and you may say what you will, I know the town
loses nothing by 'em.
_May_. The women don't, I believe.
_Mrs M_. And I'll have you know, the women's wants shall be
considered, as well as yours. I think my lord and the colonel do you
too much honour in offering to represent such a set of clownish,
dirty, beggarly animals--Ah! I wish we women were to choose.
_May_. Ay, we should have a fine set of members then, indeed.
_Mrs M_. Yes, sir, you would have none but pretty
gentlemen--there should not be one man in the House of Commons without
a laced coat.
_Miss M_. O la! what a delicate, fine, charming sight that would
be! Well, I like a laced coat; and if ever I am taken into keeping,
it shall be by a man in a laced coat.
_May_. What's that you say, minx? What's that you say?
_Mrs M_. What's that to you, sir?
_May_. Why, madam, must not I speak to my own daughter?
_Mrs M_. You have the greater obligation to me, sir, if she is:
I am sure, if I had thought you would have endeavoured to ruin your
family, I would have seen you hanged before you should have had any
by me.
_May_. I ruin my family!
_Mrs M_. Yes, I have been making your fortune for you with my
lord; I have got a place for you, but you won't accept on't.
_Miss M_. You shall accept on't.
_Mrs M_. You shall vote for my lord and the colonel.
_Miss M_. They are the finest men--
_Mrs M_. The prettiest men--
_Miss M_. The sweetest men--
_Mrs M_. And you shall vote for them.
_May_. I won't be bribed.
_Mrs M_. A place is no bribe--ask the parson of the parish if a
place is a bribe.
_May_. What is the place?
_Mrs M_. I don't know what the place is, nor my lord does not
know what it is, but it is a great swingeing place.
_May_. I will have the place first. I won't take a bribe, I will
have the place first; liberty and property! I'll have the place
first. [_Exit_.
_Mrs M_. Come, my dear, follow me; I'll see whether he shall
vote according to his conscience or mine.
I'll teach mankind, while policy they boast,
They bear the name of power, we rule the roast.
_Trap_. There ends act the second. [_Exeunt_ Mrs _and_
Miss Mayoress.] Mr Fustian, I inculcate a particular moral at the end
of every act; and therefore, might have put a particular motto before
every one, as the author of Caesar in Egypt has done: thus, sir, my
first act sweetly sings, Bribe all; bribe all; and the second gives
you to Understand that we are all under petticoat-government; and my
third will--but you shall see. Enter my lord Place, colonel Promise,
and several voters. My lord, you begin the third act.
_Enter_ Lord PLACE, Col. PROMISE, and _several_ Voters.
_Place_. Gentlemen, be assured I will take care of you all; you
shall all be provided for as fast as possible; the customs and the
excise afford a great number of places.
1 _Voter_. Could not your lordship provide for me at court?
_Place_. Nothing easier: what sort of a place would you like?
1 _Voter_. Is not there a sort of employment, sir,
called--beef-eating?--If your lordship please to make me a
beef-eater--I would have a place fitted for my capacity.
_Place_. Sir, I will be sure to remember you.
2 _Voter_. My lord, I should like a place at court too; I don't
much care what it is, provided I wear fine cloaths, and have
something to do in the kitchen or the cellar; I own I should like the
cellar, for I am a devilish lover of sack.
_Place_. Sack, say you? Odso, you shall be poet-laureat.
2 _Voter_. Poet! no, my lord, I am no poet, I can't make verses.
_Place_. No matter for that--you'll be able to make odes.
2 _Voter_. Odes, my lord! what are those?
_Place_. Faith, sir, I can't tell well what they are; but I know
you may be qualified for the place without being a poet.
_Trap_. Now, my lord, do you file off, and talk apart with your
people; and let the colonel advance.
_Fust_. Ay, faith, I think it is high time for the colonel to be
heard.
_Col_. Depend upon it, sir; I'll serve you.
_Fust_. Upon my word the colonel begins very well; but has not
that been said already?
_Trap_. Ay, and if I was to bring a hundred courtiers into my
play, they should all say it--none of them do it.
3 _Voter_. An't please your honour, I have read in a book called
Fog's Journal that your honour's men are to be made of wax; now, sir,
I have served my time to a wax-work maker, and desire to make your
honour's regiment.
_CoL_ Sir, you may depend on me.
3 _Voter_. Are your officers to be made of wax too, sir? because
I would prepare a finer sort for them.
_CoL_ No, none but the chaplain.
3 _Voter_. O! I have a most delicate piece of black wax for him.
_Trap_. You see, sir, the colonel can speak when military
affairs are on the carpet. Hitherto, Mr Fustian, the play has gone on
in great tranquillity; now you shall see a scene of a more turbulent
nature. Come, enter the mob of both sides, and cudgel one another
off the stage. Colonel, as your business is not to fight at present,
I beg you would go off before the battle comes on; you and your
brother candidate come into the middle of the stage; you voters range
yourselves under your several leaders. [_The mob attempt to break
in_.] Pray, gentlemen, keep back; mind, the colonel's going off is
the cue for the battle to enter. Now, my lord, and the colonel, you
are at the head of your parties--but hold, hold, hold! you
beef-eater, go you behind my lord, if you please; and you
soldier-maker, come you behind the colonel: now, gentlemen, speak.
_Place_ and _Col_ Gentlemen, we'll serve you.
[_My lord and the colonel flle off at
different doors, the parties following_.
_Enter mob on each side of the stage, crying out promiscuously_.
Down with the Rump! No courtiers! No Jacobites! Down with the pope!
No excise! A Place and a Promise! A Fox-chace and a Tankard! _At
last they fall together by the ears, and cudgel one another off the
stage_.
_Enter_ Sir HARRY, Squire TANKARD, _and_ Mayor.
_Sir H_. Bravely done, my boys, bravely done; faith, our party
has got the day.
_May_. Ay, Sir Harry, at dry blows we always come off well; if
we could but disband the army, I warrant we carried all our
points. But faith, sir, I have fought a hard battle on your account;
the other side have secured my wife; my lord has promised her a
place, but I am not to be gulled in that manner: I may be taken like
a fish in the water, by a bait; but not like the dog in the water, by
a shadow.
_Sir H_. I know you are an honest man, and love your country.
_May_. Faith, that I do, Sir Harry, as well as any man; if my
country will but let me live by it, that's all I desire.
_Fust_. Mr Mayor seems to have got himself sober very suddenly.
_Trap_. Yes, so would you too, I believe, if you had been
scolded at by your wife as long as he has; but if you think that is
not reason enough, he may be drunk still, for any reason I see to the
contrary: pray, sir, act this scene as if you was drunk.
_Fust_. Nay, I must confess, I think it quite out of character
the mayor to be once sober during the whole election.
_Tank_. [_drunk_.] A man that won't get drunk for his
country is a rascal.
_May_. So he is, noble squire; there's no honesty in a man that
won't be drunk--A man that won't drink is an enemy to the trade of
the nation.
_Sir H_. Those were glorious days when honest English
hospitality flourished; when a country gentleman could afford to make
his neighbours drunk, before your damned French fashions were brought
over. Why, Mr Mayor, would you think it? there are many of these
courtiers who have six starved footmen behind a coach, and not half a
hogshead of wine in their house; why, how do you think all the money
is spent?
_May_. Faith, I can't tell.
_Sir H_. Why, in houses, pictures, lace, embroidery, nick-nacks,
Italian singers, and French tumblers; and those who vote for them
will never get a dinner of them after the election is over.
_May_. But there is a thought comes often into my head, which is
this; if these courtiers be turned out, who shall succeed them?
_Sir H_. Who? why, we!
_Tank_. Ay, we!
_Sir H_. And then we may provide for our friends. I love my
country, but I don't know why I may not get something by it as well
as another; at least to reimburse me.--And I do assure you, though I
have not bribed a single vote, my election will stand me in a good
five thousand pounds.
_Tank_. Ay, and so will mine me: but if ever we should get
uppermost, Sir Harry, I insist upon immediately paying off the debts
of the nation.
_Sir H_. Mr Tankard, that shall be done with all convenient
speed.
_Tank_. I'll have no delay in it, sir.
_May_. There spoke the spirit of a true Englishman: ah! I love
to hear the squire speak; he will be a great honour to his country in
foreign parts.
_Sir H_. Our friends stay for us at the tavern; we'll go and
talk more over a bottle.
_Tank_. With all my heart; but I will pay off the debts of the
nation.
_May_. Come to the tavern then:--
There, while brisk wine improves our conversation,
We at our pleasure will reform the nation.
_Trap_. There ends act the third.
[_Exeunt_ Sir HARRY, TANKARD, _and_ Mayor.
_Fust_. Pray, sir, what's the moral of this act?
_Trap_. And you really don't know?
_Fust_. No, really.
_Trap_. Then I really will not tell you; but come, sir, since
you cannot find that out, I'll try whether you can find out the plot;
for now it is just going to begin to open, it will require a very
close attention, I assure you; and the devil take me if I give you
any assistance.
_Fust_. Is not the fourth act a little too late to open the
plot, Mr Trapwit?
_Trap_. Sir, 'tis an error on the right side: I have known a
plot open in the first act, and the audience, and the poet too,
forget it before the third was over: now, sir, I am not willing to
burden either the audience's memory or my own; for they may forget
all that is hitherto past, and know full as much of the plot as if
they remembered it.
_Promp_. Call Mr Mayor, Mrs Mayoress, and Miss.
_Enter_ Mayor, Mrs _and_ Miss Mayoress.
_Mrs M_. Oh! have I found you at last, sir? I have been hunting
for you this hour.
_May_. Faith, my dear, I wish you had found me sooner; I have
been drinking to the good old cause with Sir Harry and the squire:
you would have been heartily welcome to all the company.
_Mrs M_. Sir, I shall keep no such company; I shall converse
with no clowns or country squires.
_Miss M_. My mama will converse with no Jacobites.
_May_. But, my dear, I have some news for you; I have got a place
for myself now.
_Mrs M_. O ho! then you will vote for my lord at last?
_May_. No, my dear; Sir Harry is to give me a place.
_Mrs M_. A place in his dog-kennel?
_May_. No, 'tis such a one as you never could have got me from
my lord; I am to be made an embassador.
_Mrs M_. What, is Sir Harry going to change sides then, that he
is to have all this interest?
_May_. No, but the sides are going to be changed; and Sir Harry
is to be--I don't know what to call him, not I--some very great man;
and as soon as he is a very great man I am to be made an embassador
of.
_Mrs M_. Made an ass of! Will you never learn of me that a bird
in the hand is worth two in the bush?
_May_. Yes, but I can't find that you had the bird in hand; if
that had been the case I don't know what I might have done; but I am
sure any man's promise is as good as a courtier's.
_Mrs M_. Look'ye, Mr Embassador that is to be; will you vote as
I would have you or no? I am weary of arguing with a fool any longer;
so, sir, I tell you you must vote for my lord and the colonel, or
I'll make the house too hot to hold you; I'll see whether my poor
family is to be ruined because you have whims.
_Miss M_. I know he is a Jacobite in his heart.
_Mrs M_. What signifies what he is in his heart? have not a
hundred, whom everybody knows to be as great Jacobites as he, acted
like very good whigs? What has a man's heart to do with his lips? I
don't trouble my head with what he thinks; I only desire him to vote.
_Miss M_. I am sure mama is a very reasonable woman.
_Mrs M_. Yes, I am too reasonable a woman, and have used gentle
methods too long; but I'll try others.
[_Goes to a corner of the stage and takes a stick_.
_May_. Nay, then, liberty and property, and no excise!
[_Runs off_.
_Mrs M_. I'll excise you, you villain! [_Runs after him_.
_Miss M_. Hey ho! I wish somebody were here now. Would the man
that I love best in the world were here, that I might use him like a
dog!
_Fust_. Is not that a very odd wish, Mr Trapwit?
_Trap_. No, sir; don't all the young ladies in plays use all
their lovers so? Should we not lose half the best scenes in our
comedies else?
_Promp_. Pray, gentlemen, don't disturb the rehearsal so: where
is this servant? [_Enter_ Servant.] Why don't you mind your cue?
_Serv_. Oh, ay, dog's my cue. Madam, here's Miss Stitch, the
taylor's daughter, come to wait on you.
_Miss M_. Shew her in. What can the impertinent flirt want with
me? She knows I hate her too for being of the other party: however,
I'll be as civil to her as I can. [_Enter_ Miss STITCH.] Dear
miss! your servant; this is an unexpected favour.
_Miss S_. I am sure, madam, you have no reason to say so; for,
though we are of different parties, I have always coveted your
acquaintance. I can't see why people may not keep their principles to
themselves.
[_Aside_.
_Miss M_. Pray, miss, sit down. Well, have you any news in town?
_Miss S_. I don't know, my dear, for I have not been out these
three days; and I have been employed all that time in reading one of
the "Craftsmen:" 'tis a very pretty one; I have almost got it by
heart.
_Miss M_. [_Aside_.] Saucy flirt! she might have spared
that to me when she knows that I hate the paper.
_Miss S_. But I ask your pardon, my dear; I know you never read
it.
_Miss M_. No, madam, I have enough to do to read the "Daily
Gazetteer." My father has six of 'em sent him every week for nothing:
they are very pretty papers, and I wish you would read them, miss.
_Miss S_. Fie upon you! how can you read what's writ by an old
woman?
_Miss M_. An old woman, miss?
_Miss S_. Yes, miss, by Mrs Osborne. Nay, it is in vain to deny
it to me.
_Miss M_. I desire, madam, we may discourse no longer on this
subject; for we shall never agree on it.
_Miss S_. Well, then, pray let me ask you seriously--are you
thoroughly satisfied with this peace?
_Miss M_. Yes, madam, and I think you ought to be so too.
_Miss S_. I should like it well enough if I were sure the queen
of Spain was to be trusted.
_Miss M. [Rising.]_ Pray miss, none of your insinuations against
the queen of Spain.
_Miss S_. Don't be in a passion, madam.
_Miss M_. Yes, madam, but I will be in a passion, when the
interest of my country is at stake.
_Miss S. [Rising.]_ Perhaps, madam, I have a heart as warm in
the interest of my country as you can have; though I pay money for
the papers I read, and that's more than you can say.
_Miss M_. Miss, miss, my papers are paid for too by somebody,
though I don't pay for them; I don't suppose the old woman, as you
call her, sends 'em about at her own expence; but I'd have you to
know, miss, I value my money as little as you in my country's cause;
and rather than have no army, I would part with every farthing of
these sixteen shillings to maintain it.
_Miss S_. And if my sweetheart was to vote for the colonel,
though I like this fan of all the fans I ever saw in my life, I would
tear it all to pieces, because it was his Valentine's gift to me. Oh,
heavens! I have torn my fan; I would not have torn my fan for the
world! Oh! my poor dear fan! I wish all parties were at the devil,
for I am sure I shall never get a fan by them.
_Miss M_. Notwithstanding all you have said, madam, I should be
a brute not to pity you under this calamity: comfort yourself, child,
I have a fan the exact fellow to it; if you bring your sweetheart
over to vote for the colonel you shall have it.
_Miss S_. And can I sell my country for a fan? What's my
country to me? I shall never get a fan by it. And will you give it me
for nothing?
_Miss M_. I'll make you a free present of it.
_Miss S_. I am ashamed of your conquest, but I'll take the fan.
_Miss M_. And now, my dear, we'll go and drink a dish of tea
together.
And let all parties blame me if they can, Who're bribed by honours
trifling as a fan.
[_Exeunt_ Misses.
_Trap_. There ends act the fourth. If you want to know the moral
of this, the devil must be in you. Faith, this incident of the fan
struck me so strongly that I was once going to call this comedy by
the name of The Fan. But come, now for act the fifth.
_Promp_. Sir, the player who is to begin it is just stepped
aside on some business; he begs you would stay a few minutes for him.
_Trap_. Come, Fustian, you and I will step into the green-room,
and chat with the actresses meanwhile.
_Fust_. But don't you think these girls improper persons to talk
of parties?
_Trap_. Sir, I assure you it is not out of nature: and I have
often heard these affairs canvast by men who had not one whit more
understanding than these girls.
[_Exeunt_.
ACT III.
SCENE I.--Enter TRAPWIT, FUSTIAN, and SNEERWELL.
_Trap_. Fie upon't, fie upon't! make no excuses.
_Sneer_. Consider, sir, I am my own enemy.
_Trap_. I do consider that you might have past your time,
perhaps, here as well as in another place.
_Sneer_. But I hope I have not transgressed much.
_Trap_. All's over, sir, all's over; you might as well have
stayed away entirely; the fifth act's beginning, and the plot's at an
end.
_Sneer_. What!'s the plot at an end before the fifth act is
begun?
_Trap_. No, no, no, no, I don't mean at an end;
but we are so far advanced in it that it will be impossible for you
to comprehend or understand anything of it.
_Fust_. You have too mean an opinion of Mr Sneerwell's
capacity; I'll engage he shall understand as much of it as I, who
have heard the other four.
_Trap_. Sir, I can't help your want of understanding or
apprehension; 'tis not my fault if you cannot take a hint, sir: would
you have a catastrophe in every act? Oons and the devil! have not I
promised you you should know all by and by? but you are so impatient!
_Fust_. I think you have no reason to complain of my want of
patience. Mr Sneerwell, be easy; 'tis but one short act before my
tragedy begins; and that I hope will make you amends for what you are
to undergo before it. Trapwit, I wish you would begin.
_Trap_. I wish so too. Come, prompter! are the members in their
chairs?
_Promp_. Yes, sir.
_Trap_. Then carry them over the stage: but, hold, hold, hold!
where is the woman to strew the flowers? [_The members are carried
over the stage_.] Halloo, mob, halloo, halloo! Oons, Mr Prompter!
you must get more mob to halloo, or these gentlemen will never be
believed to have had the majority.
_Promp_. Sir, I can get no more mob; all the rest of the mob are
gone to St James's-park to see the show.
_Sneer_. Pray, Mr Trapwit, who are these gentlemen in the
chairs?
_Trap_. Ay, sir, this is your staying away so long; if you had
been here the first four acts you would have known who they were.
_Fust_. Dear Sneerwell, ask him no more questions; if you
enquire into every absurdity you see we shall have no tragedy to-day.
_Trap_. Come, Mr Mayor and Mrs Mayoress.
_Enter_ Mayor _and_ Mrs Mayoress.
_May_. So, now you have undone yourself your own way; you have
made me vote against my conscience and interest too, and now I have
lost both parties.
_Mrs M_. How have you lost both parties?
_May_. Why, my lord will never remember my voting for him, now
he has lost the day; and Sir Harry, who has won it, will never
forgive my voting against him: let which side will be uppermost, I
shall have no place till the next election.
_Mrs M_. It will be your own fault then, sir; for you have it
now in your power to oblige my lord more than ever; go and return my
lord and the colonel as duly elected, and I warrant you I do your
business with him yet.
_May_. Return 'em, my dear? Why, there
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