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 FROM THE 
 
 BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY 
 
 COLLECTED BY 
 
 BENNO LOEWY 
 
 1854-1919 
 BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026104517 
 
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BURLESQUE 
 PLAYS AND POEMS 
 
 ■^CHAUCER'S 
 
 RIME OF THOPAS. 
 
 fiEAUMONT & FLETCHER'S 
 
 KNIGHT OF THE BURNING 
 PESTLE. 
 
 GEORGE VILLIERS, 
 Buckingham's 
 REHEARSAL. 
 
 DUKi; OF 
 
 JOHN PHIL^PS'S 
 
 Splendid shilling. 
 
 fielding's 
 
 tom thumb the crea t. 
 
 HENRY CAREY'S 
 
 NAMBY PAMBV and 
 CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 
 
 CANNING, FRERE & ELLtS'S 
 ROVERS. 
 
 W. B. RHODES'S 
 
 BOM BASTES FURIOSO. 
 
 HORACE & JAMES SMITHES, 
 REJECTED ADVJIESSES. 
 
 AND SOMB OF 
 
 THOMAS HOOD'S 
 , ODES AND ADDRESSES TO 
 GREAT PEOPLE. 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY HENRY MORLEt 
 
 LL,D., PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE AT ' ' 
 UNIVEBSITV COLLEGE, LONDON 
 
 LONDON 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS 
 
 BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL 
 
 NEW YORK: 9 LAFAYETTE PLACE 
 
 1885' 
 
^(^)^io 3 f 
 
 MORLEY'S UNIVERSAL LIBRARY. 
 
 VOLUMES ALREADY PUBLISHED. 
 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS. 
 PLA YS FROM MOLIERE. By English Dramatists. 
 
 MARLO WES FA USTUS &» GOETHE: S FA UST. 
 
 CHRONICLE OF THE CID. 
 
 RABELAIS' GARGANTUA and the HEROIC 
 DEEDS OF PANTAGRUEL. 
 
 THE PRINCE. By MachiaveLLI. 
 
 BACON'S ESSAYS. 
 
 DEFOE'S JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR. 
 
 LOCKE ON CIVIL GOVERNMENT b- FILMER' S 
 
 " PATRIARCHA." 
 SCOTT'S DEMONOLOGY and WITCHCRAFT. 
 DRYDENS VIRGIL. 
 HVTLER'S ANALOGY OF RELIGION. 
 HERRICK'S HESPERIDES. 
 COLERIDGE'S TABLE-TALIC. 
 BOCCACCIO'S DECAMERON. 
 STERNE'S TRISTRAM SHANDY. 
 CHAPMANS HOMER'S ILIAD. 
 MEDIEVAL TALES. 
 VOLTAIRE'S CANDIDE Sf JOHNSONS 
 
 RASSELAS 
 PI.A YS and POEMS by BEN JONSON. 
 LEVIATliAN. By Thomas HOEBES. 
 HUDIBRAS. By Samuel Butler. 
 IDEAL COMMONWEALTHS. 
 CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY. 
 DON QUIXOTE. In Two Volumes. 
 BURLESQUE PLA YS and POEMS. 
 
 "Marvels of clear type and general neatness." 
 
 Daily Telegrafh. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The word Burlesque came to us through the French from the Italian 
 " burlesco " ; " burla " being mockery or raillery, and implying always an 
 object.. Burlesque must, burlarsi di una, mock at somebody or something, 
 and when intended to give pleasure it is nothing if not good-natured. One 
 etymologist^associates the word with the old English " bourd," a jest ; the 
 Gaelic "burd," he says, means mockery, and "buirleadh," is language of 
 ridicule. Yes, and " burrail" is the loud romping of children, and " burrall" 
 is weeping and wailing in a deep-toned howl. Another etymologist 
 takes the Italian " burla," waggery or banter, as diminutive from the Latin 
 "burra," which means a rough hair, but is used by Ausonius in the sense 
 of a jest. That etymology no doubt fits burlesque to a hair, but, like 
 Launce's sweetheart, it may havp more hair than wit. 
 
 The first burlesque in this volume — Chaucer's " Rime of Sir Thopas," 
 written towards the close of the fourteenth century — is a jest upon long-wjnded 
 story-tellers, Who expatiate on insignificant detail; for in his day there were 
 m^hy metrical romances written by the ancestors of Mrs. Nickleby. 
 Riding to Canterbury with the other pilgrims, Chaucer good-humourediy 
 takes to himself the part of the companion who jogs along with even flow 
 of words, luxuriating in all trivial detail until he brings Sir Thopas face to 
 face with an adventure, for he meets a giant with three heads. But even 
 then there is the adventure to be waited for. The story-teller finds that he 
 must trot his knight back home to fetch his armour, and when he "is comen 
 again to toune," it takes so many words to get him his supper, get his 
 armour on, and trot him out again, that the inevitable end comes, with 
 rude intrusion of some faint-hearted lording who has not courage to listen 
 until the point of the story can be descried from afar. So the best of the 
 old story-tellers, in a book full of examples of tales told as they should be, 
 burlesqued misuse of his art, and the "Rime of Sir Thopas " became a 
 warning buoy over the shallows. " I cannot,", said Sir Thomas Wyatt, in 
 Henry VIII.'s reign, 
 
 "say that Pan 
 Passeth Apollo in music manyfold ; 
 
 Prais^ Sir Thopas for a noble tale, 
 And scorn the story that the Knight^ told." 
 
 -The second buriesque in this volume, Beaumont and Fletcher's " Knight 
 of the Burning Pestle," written in eight days, appeared in 1611, six years 
 after the publication of the First Part, and four years earlier than the Second 
 Part, of Don Quixote. .The first English translation of Don Quixote 
 (Shelton's) appeared in 1612. The Knight of the Burning Pestle is, like 
 Don 'Quixote, a burlesque upon the tasteless affectations of the tales of 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. ' 
 
 chivalry. Francis Beaumont and John tletcher worked together as play- 
 wrights in the reign of James I. All their plays were produced during that 
 reign, i Beaumont died in the same year as Shakespeare, having; written- 
 thirteen plays in fellowship with Fletcher. , FoWy more were written by 
 Fletcher alone, but the name of Bfeaumont is, by tradition of a loving fel- 
 lowship, associated with them all. " The Knight of the Burning Pestle " 
 is all the merrieir for being the wqrk of men who were themselves true 
 poets. It should! be remembered that this play was written for a theatre with- 
 out scenery, in which gentlemen were allowed to hire, stools on the stage 
 itself for a nearer view of the actors ; and it is among this select part of the 
 audience that the citizen intrudes and the citizen's wife is lifted up, when 
 she cries, " Husband, shall I come up, husband ?" " Ay, cony ; Ralph, 
 help yOur mistress up this way ; pray, gentlemen, make hgr a little room ; 
 
 I pray you, sir, lend me your hand to help up my wife Boy, let my 
 
 wife^and I have a couple of stools, and then begin.". 
 
 The next burlesque in our collection is "The Rehearsal," ' which was 
 produced in 1671 to ridicule the extravagance of the " heroic " plays of 
 the Restoration. The founder of this school in England was Sir ^William 
 Davenant who Was living and was Poet Laureate — and wparer of the bays, 
 thereft)re, was„Bajres — ^when the jest was begun by George Villiers, Duke 
 of Bijckingham, and other wits of the day. The jest was so longin hand 
 that, in 1668, when Davenant died,, and Dryden succeeded him as Laureate, 
 the character of Bayes passed on to him. The plaster on the nose pointed 
 at Davenant, who had Ibst great part of his nose. The manner of speaking, 
 and the "hum and buzz," pointed at Dryden, who was also in 1671 the 
 great master of what was called heroic drama. Bold rhodoffiontade was, 
 on the stage, preferred to good, sense at a time when the new Fren^ch 
 criticism was enforcing above all things "good s6nse"up6n poets, as a 
 reaction against the strained ingenuities that had come in under Italian 
 influence. Let us tleave to Italy her paste brilliants, said Boileau, in his 
 Art Poitique, produced at the same tirpe as "The Rehearsal," all should 
 tend to good sense. But Dryden in his plays (not in his .other poems) 
 boldly translated Horace's sertit hmii tutus, into^ 
 
 ' ' He who servilfely creeps after sense 
 Is safe, but ne'er Will reach an excellence. " 
 
 The particular excellence attained by flying out of sight, of sense is 
 burlesqued in the Duke of Buckingham's "Rehearsal." ' 
 - John Philips, the delicate and gentle son of a vicar of Bamptpn, read 
 Milton with delight from his boyhood and knew Virgil almost by heart. 
 At college he wrote, for the edification of a comrade who did'not know 
 how to keep a shilling in his pocket, " The Splendid Shilling," a poem first 
 published in 1705 — which set forth, in Miltonic style applied to humblest 
 images, the comfort of possessing such i coin. The Miftonic grandeur of 
 tone John Philips happily caught from a long and loving study of the 
 English poet whom he revereiicfed abovfe others, and "The Splendid 
 Shilling " has a special charm, as a burlesque in which nobody is ridiculed. 
 , The burlesque poem called " Namby Pambjr," of which the; title h*s 
 been added to the English vocabulary, wasyiritten by Henry Carey, in 
 ridicule of the little Thymes inscribed to certain babies of distinguished 
 persons by Ambrose Philips, or, as he is translated into nursery language, 
 " Namby Pamby Pilli-pis." Anibrose Philips was a fijend and companion of 
 
INTRODUCTION. \ f 
 
 Addison's, and a gentleman who prospered fairly in Whig government 
 circles. ' Pope's Annoyance, at the praise given to Ambrose , Philips's 
 pastorals which appeared in the Same Miscellany with his own, and 
 Addison's praise in the Spectator of, his friend's translation of RE^cine's. 
 Andromache as " The Distrest Mother," Jiave caused Ambrose Philips to be 
 better remembered in the history of literature Jthan might otherwise have 
 been necessary. When he wrote.no longer of 
 
 ."Mammy . 
 Andromache and her lammy 
 Hanging panging at the breast v 
 Of ia. matron most distrest," 
 
 and took to nursery lyrics^ he gave Henry Carey an opportunity of putting 
 a, last touch to his monument for the instruction of posterity. The two 
 specimens here given of the original poems that suggested "Namby 
 Parftby" are addressed severally to two babes in the nursery of Daniel 
 pulteney, Esq. Another of the .babies who inspired him Was an infant 
 ' Garteret, whose name Carey translated into "Tartaretta Tartareb." Some 
 lines here and there, seven in all, which are not the wittier for being 
 coarse, have been left out of " Namby Pamby." Tjjis burlesque was first 
 published in 1725 or 1726 ; my copy is of the fifth ^ition,^aated 1726, anti 
 was appended to "A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling; its Dignity^ 
 Antiquity, and Excellence, with a Word upont Puddi^, and inany ether 
 Useful Discoveries of great Benefit to the Pdiblick. 'To which is adiied, 
 Namby Pamby, A Panegyric on the new Versification addfess'd to 
 A P , Esq." • I 
 
 Henry Fielding produced his "Tom Thumb" in'1730, and added the notes 
 of.Scriblerus Seciindus in 1731, following the example set by the Dunciad 
 as published in April 1729, with the "Prolegomena of Scriblerus and 
 Notes Variorum." Paul Whitehead added notes of a Scriblerus Tertius to 
 his " Gymnasiad " in 1744. Fielding was twenty-four years old when he 
 added to his " Tom Thumb'' the notes that transmit to us lively examples 
 of the stilted language of the stage by which, as a gentleman's son left to 
 his own resources, he was then endeavouring to live. This was four years 
 before his marriage, and ten years before h^e revealed his transcendent 
 powers as a novelist. 
 
 Henry Carey's " Chrononhotonthblbgfls," three years later, in 1734, 
 carried on the war against pretentious dulnesS on the stage. The manner 
 of the great actors was, like the plays of their generation, pompous' and 
 rhetorical, full of measured sound and fury signifying nothing, iGiifrick, 
 who made his first appearance as an actpr iri; 1741, put an end to this< 
 "if the young fellow is right," said Quin, ''we are all in the wtongj" 
 little suspecting that they really were all in the wrong. Henry Carey, a 
 fliusician by profession, played in the orchestra and also suf)plied the stage 
 ■yvith ballad and burlesque farces and operas. But also he wrote "Namby 
 Pamby." It was said of him that "he led a life free froirt reproach, and 
 hanged himself October 4th, 1 743." 
 
 "The Rovers, or the Double Arrangement," was a contributioti to 
 ''The Aiiti-Jacobin," by George Canning, and his friends George Ellis am} 
 John Hookham Frere. Canning had established "The Anti-Jacobin," of 
 which the first number was published on the 20th of November, 1797. Its 
 poetry, generally levelled through witty burlesque at the false sentiment 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of the day, was collected in 1801 into a handsome quarto. This includes 
 "The Rovers," which is a lively caricature of the sentimental German 
 drama. Goethe's " Stella," as read in the translation used by the caricatu- 
 rists, is not less comical than the caricature. I have a copy of the 
 " Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin," in which one of the original writers has, for 
 the friend^to whom he gave the book, marked with his pen and ink details 
 of authorship. From this it appears that the description of the dramatis 
 fers~ona\a "The Rovers" was by Frere, the Prologue by Canning a,nd 
 Ellis, the opening scene by Frere as far as Rogero's • famous song, which- 
 was by Canning and Ellis. All that follows to the beginning of the fourth 
 act was by Canning, except that Frere wrote the scene in the' second act 
 on the delivery of a newspaper to Beefington and Puddingfield. The 
 fourth act and the final stage directions were by Frere, except the Recita- 
 tive and Ohorus of Conspirators. These were by George Ellis. 
 
 "Bombastes Furioso," first produced in 1 8 to, was ' by William Barnes 
 Rhodes, who had published a translation of Juvenal in 1801 and '.' Epi- 
 grams" in 1803. He formed a considerable dramatic library, of which 
 there was a catalogue printed in 1825. ' ' 
 
 , Next comes in this collection the series of burlesques of the styles of 
 poets famous and popular in 1812, published in that year as "Rejected 
 Addresses," by Horace and James Smith. Of these brothers, sons of an 
 attorney, one was an attorney, the other a stockbroker, one aged thirty-seven, 
 the other thirty-three, when the book appeared which made them fairious; ' 
 and of which the fifst edition is reprinted in this volume. The book went 
 through twenty-four editions. James Sjnith wrote no more, but Hora,ce to 
 the last amused himself with literature. " Is it not odd," Leigh Hunt 
 wrote of him to Shelley, "that the only truly generous ' person I ever 
 knew, who had money to be generous with, was a stockbroker ! And 
 he writes poetiy too ; he writes poetry, and pastoral dramas, and yet 
 knows how to make money, and does make it, and is still generous." The 
 Fitzgerald who is subject of the first burlesque used to recite his laudatory 
 poems at the annual dinners of the Literary Fund, and is the same who was 
 referred to in the opening lines of Byron's " English Bards and Scotch 
 Reviewers : " 
 
 ' ' Still must I hear ? — shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl 
 His creaking couplets in a tavern hall, 
 And I not sing." 
 
 This Miscellany closes with some of the " Odes and Addresses to Great 
 People," with which Thomas Hood, at the age of twenty-six, first made- 
 his mark as a wit. The little book from which these pieces are taken was 
 the joint work of himself and John Hamilton Reynolds, whose sister he 
 had married. It marks the rise of the pun in burlesque writing through 
 Thomas Hood, who, when dying of consumption, .suggested for his> 
 epitaph, ' ' Here lies one who spat more blood ctnd made more puns than, 
 any other man." 
 
 H. M. 
 
 June, 1885. 
 
Burlesque Plays and Poems. 
 
 The Rime of Sir Thopas. 
 
 PROLOGUE TO SIR THOPAS. 
 
 When said was this inirdcle, every man 
 
 As sobei- was, that wonder was to see, 
 
 Till that our host to iapen he began, 
 
 And then at erst he lookdd upon me, 
 
 And saidd thus : " What man art thou ?" quod he. 
 
 Thou lookest, as thou wouldest find an hare, 
 
 For ever upon the ground I see thee stare. 
 
 " Approchd near, and look up merrily. 
 Now wareyou, sirs, and let this npn have place. 
 He in the waist is shapen as well as I : 
 This were a popet in an arm to embrace 
 For any woman, small and fair of face. 
 He seemeth elvish by his countenance. 
 For unto no wight doth he dalliance. 
 
 " Say now somewhat, sin other folk han said ; 
 Tell us a tale of mirth, and that anon." 
 " Hostd, ' quod I, " ne be not evil apaid. 
 For other ta.\6 certes, can I none, 
 But of a Rime I learndd yore agone." 
 "Yea, that is good," quod he, " we shullen hear 
 Some dainty thing, me thinketh by thy cheere." 
 
(10 ) 
 
 THE RIME OF SIR THOPAS. 
 
 LiSTENETH, lordings, in good entent, 
 And I wol tell you verament 
 
 Of mirth and of solds, ' 
 ' All of a knight was fair and gent 
 In battle and in tournajndnt, 
 
 His name was Sir Thop^s. 
 
 Yborn he was in far countree, 
 In Flatiders, all beyond the sea. 
 
 At Popering in the place, 
 His father was a man full free, 
 And lord he was of that countree, 
 
 As it was Goddds grace. 
 
 Sir Thopas was a doughty swain, 
 White w^s his face as paindemaine 
 
 His lippds red as rose. 
 His rudde is like scarldt in grain, 
 And I you tell iri good certain 
 
 He had a seemly nose. 
 
 His hair, his beard, was like safifroun, 
 That to his girdle raught adown, 
 
 His shoon of cordewaine ; 
 Of Bruges were his hosen brown ; 
 His robd was of ciclatoun, 
 
 That costd many a jane. 
 
 He could hunt at the wildd dere, 
 Arid ride on hawking for the rivere 
 
 With grey goshawk on hand : 
 Thereto he was a good archere, 
 Of wrestling was there none his peer, 
 
 Where any ram should stand. 
 
 Full many a maiden bright in bower 
 They mourndd for \\\va.par amour. 
 
 When them were bet to slepe ; 
 But he was chaste and no lechotir, 
 And sweet as is the bramble flower, 
 
 Th|t beareth the red hepe. 
 
TH£ RiMM ' Otf SIR THOPAS. , 1 1 
 
 And so it fell upon a day, 
 Forsooth, as I you tellen may, 
 
 Sir Thopap would out ride ; 
 He worth upon his stedd gray, 
 And in his hand a launcegay, 
 
 A long sword by his side. 
 
 He pricketh through a fair forest, 
 Therein is many a wild^ beast. 
 
 Yea bothd buck and hare. 
 And as he prickdd North and Est, 
 I tell it you, hini had almest 
 
 Betid a sorry care. 
 
 There springen herb^s great and smale, 
 The liquorice and the setewale. 
 
 And many a clove gilofre, 
 And nut^meg to put in ale, 
 Whether it be moist or stale, 
 
 Or for to lain in cofre. 
 
 The bircl^s singen, it is no nay, 
 The sparhaWk and the popingay, 
 
 That joy it was to hear, 
 The throstel cock made eke his lay, 
 The wod^ dove upon the spray 
 
 He sang full loud and clear. 
 
 Sir Thopas fell in love-longing 
 
 All when he heard the throstel sirig, 
 
 And pricked as he were wood ; 
 His faird steed in his pricking 
 So swatt^, that men might him wring, 
 
 His sidds were all blood. 
 
 Sir Thopas eke so weary was 
 For pricking on the soft^ gras, 
 
 So fierce was his courige,, 
 That down he laid hirn in that place 
 To maken his sted^ som solace, 
 
 And gave him good fordge. 
 
 Ah, Seinte Mary, benedicite. 
 What aileth this love at me 
 
 To bindd me so sore ?.. 
 Me dreamed all this night pard^ 
 An elf-queen shal my lemah be. 
 
 And sleep under my gore. 
 
THE RIME OF SIR THOPAS. 
 
 An elf;queen will I love ywis. 
 For in this world no woman is 
 
 Worthy to be my make 
 III town, — 
 All other women I forsake, 
 And to an elf-queen I me take 
 
 By dale and eke by down. 
 
 Into his saddle he clomb anon, 
 And pricked over stile and stone 
 
 An elf-queen for to espie, 
 Till he so long had ridden and gone, 
 That he found in a privee wone 
 
 The contree of Faerid. 
 
 Wherein he sought^ North and South, 
 And oft he spi^d with his mouth 
 
 In many a forest wild. 
 For in that contree n'as ther non. 
 That to him durst ride or gon, 
 
 Neither wife ne child. 
 
 Till that there came a great geaunt,, 
 His namd was Sir Oliphaunt, 
 
 A perilous man of deed, 
 He saidd, Childp by Termagaunt, 
 But if thou prick out of mine haunt, 
 
 Anon I slay thy stede 
 With mace. 
 Here is the Queen of Faerie, 
 With harp, and pipe, and symphonie, 
 
 Dwelling in this place. 
 
 The Childe said,, All so mote I thee. 
 To morrow wol I meten thee, 
 
 When I have min arm6ur, 
 And yet I hopd/ar ma fay. 
 That thou shalt with this launcegay 
 
 Abien it full soure ; 
 Thy mawe 
 Shal I perce, if I may, 
 Or it be fully prime of the day, 
 
 For here thou shalt be slawe. 
 
 Sir Thopas djrew aback full fast ; 
 This geaunt at him stonds cast 
 
 Out of a fell staff sHng ; 
 But faire escapdd Childe Thopds, 
 And all it was through Goddes grace. 
 
 And through his fair bearing. 
 
THE RIME OF SIR THOPAS. 
 
 Yet listeneth, lordings, to my tale, 
 Merrier than the nightingale, 
 
 For now I will you roune, 
 How Sir Thopds with sid^s smale, 
 Pricking over hill and dale, 
 
 Is comen again to toune. 
 
 His merry men commandeth he. 
 To maken him bothe game and glee, 
 
 For need^s must he fight. 
 With a geaunt with heades three. 
 For paramour and jolitee 
 
 Of one that shone full bright. 
 
 Do come, he said, my minestrales 
 And gestours for to tellen tales 
 
 Anon in mine armfng. 
 Of romaunc^s that ben redles. 
 Of popds and of cardindles, 
 
 And eke of love-longfng. 
 
 They fet him first the swetd wine, 
 And mead eke in a maseline. 
 
 And regal spicerie. 
 Of ginger-bread that was full fine, 
 And liquorice and eke cummine, 
 
 With sugar that is trie. 
 
 He diddd next his whitd lere 
 Of cloth of lakd fine and clere 
 
 A breche and eke a sherte. 
 And next his shert an haketon, 
 And over that an habergeon, 
 
 For piercing of his herte, 
 
 And over that a fine hauberk. 
 Was all y wrought of J ewes werk, 
 
 Full strong it was of plate, 
 And over that his cote-armoure, 
 As white as is the lily flpure. 
 
 In which he would debate. 
 
 His shield was all .of gold so red, 
 And therein was a boards hed, 
 
 A carbuncle beside ; 
 And there he swore on ale and bread 
 How that the geaunt shuld be dead, 
 
 Betide what so betide. 
 
I 
 14 THE RIME OF SIR THOPAS. 
 
 His jambeux were of cuirbouly, 
 His swordds slieth of ivorjr, 
 
 His helm of latoun bright, 
 His saddle was of rewel bone, 
 His bridle as the sonnd shone, 
 
 Or as the mon^ light. 
 
 His spei-e was of fin cyprdss, 
 
 That bodeth war, and nothing peace, 
 
 The head'full sharp' yground. 
 His sted^ was all dapple gray, 
 It goeth an amble in the ivay 
 
 Full soft^Iy and' round 
 In londe — 
 Lo, Lordes mine, here is a fytte ; 
 If ye wol ony more of it, ^ 
 
 To tell it wol I fond. 
 
 Now hold your mouth, pour chariU, 
 Bothd knight and lady free, 
 And herkeneth to my spell, 
 I Of bataille and of chivalrie. 
 Of ladies love and drucrie, 
 Anon I wol you tell. 
 
 Men speken of romauncfi's of pris, 
 Of Hornchild, and of Ipotis, 
 
 Of Bevis, and Sir Guy, 
 Of Sir Libeux, and Pleindamour, 
 But Sir Thopds, he bears the flour 
 
 Of redl chivalrie. 
 
 His good^ steed he all bestrode, 
 And forth upon his way he glode. 
 
 As sparkle' out of brond ; 
 Upon his crest he bare a tower. 
 And therein stickeda lily flower, 
 
 God shield his corps fro shond. 
 
 And for he was a knight auntrou's. 
 He n'olde slepen in none house, 
 
 But liggen in his hood. 
 His bright^ helm was his wangdr, 
 And by him baited his destrdr 
 
 Of herb^s fine and gOod. 
 
 Himself drank water of the well, 
 As did the knight Sir Percivell 
 
 So worthy under weede. 
 Till on a day 
 
THE Hi ME OF SIR THOPAS. 15 
 
 " No more of this for Gbdd^s dignitee,'' 
 Quod our^ hostd, "for thou.makest me 
 So \*eary of thy veray lew6dnesse, 
 That all so wisly God my sould blesse, , 
 Min er^s aken of thy drafty speche. 
 Now swiche a rime the devil I beteche ; 
 This may wel be yime dog^rel," quod he. 
 
 " Why so ? " quod I, " why wolt thou letten me 
 More of my tal8 than an other man, 
 Sin that it is the bestd rime I can ? " 
 " Thoi^ dost nought ell^s but dispendest time. 
 Sir, at one word, thou shalt no longer rime." 
 
THE 
 
 Knight of the Burning Pestle. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 The Prologue. 
 
 Tken a Citizen. 
 
 T/ie Citizen's Wife, and RALPH, 
 her. man, sitting below amidst 
 the spectators. 
 
 A rich Merchant. 
 
 Jasper, his apprentice. 
 
 Master Humphrey, a friend to the 
 
 Merchant. 
 , Luce, the Merchant's davghter. 
 
 Mistress Merry-thought, Jas- 
 per's mother. 
 
 Michael, a second son fl/'MisTRESs 
 
 Merry-thought. 
 Old Mr. Merry-thought. 
 A Squire. 
 A Dwarf. 
 A Tapster. 
 
 A Boy that danceth and singeth. 
 An Host. 
 A Barber, 
 Two Knights. 
 A Captain. 
 A Sergeant. 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Enter Prologue. 
 
 From all that's near the court, from all that's great 
 Within the compass of the city walls, 
 We now have brought our scene. 
 
 ^M/^r" Citizen. 
 
 at. Hold your peace, good-man boy. 
 
 Pro'. What do you mean, sir ? 
 
 Cz/,' That you have no good meaning: these seven years 
 there hath been plays at this house, I have obseiTed it, you 
 have still ,girds at citizens ; and now you call your play " The 
 London Merchant." Down with your title, boy, down with ybur 
 title. 
 
 Pro. Are you a member of the noble city ? 
 
 at. I am. 
 
 Pro. And a freeman ? 
 
 at. Yea, and a grocer. 
 
 Pro. So, grocer, then by your sweet favour, we intend no 
 abuse to, the city. 
 
i8 THE KNIGHT OF [ac-t I. 
 
 , at. No, sir, yes, sii-, if you were not resolved to play the 
 jacks, what need you Study for new subjects, purposely to abuse 
 your betters ? Why Could not you be contented, as well as 
 others, wjth the legend of Whittington, or the Life and Death 
 of Sir Thomas Gresham ? with the building of the Royal 
 Exchange ? or the story of Queen Eleanor, with the rearing of 
 London Bridge upon woolsacks ? 
 
 Pro. You seem to be an understanding man ; what would 
 
 you have us do, sir ?: , 
 
 ' CU. Why, present something notably in honour of the 
 commons of the city, 
 
 Pto. Why, what do you say to the Life and Death of fat 
 Drake, or the repairing of Fleet privies ? , 
 
 at. I do not like that ; but I will have a citizen, and he shall 
 be. of my own trade. 
 
 Pro. Oh, you should have told us your mind a month since, 
 our play is ready to begin now. , 
 
 Cit. 'Tis all one for that, I will have a grocer, and he shall 
 do admirable' things. 
 
 Pro. What will you have him do ? 
 
 Cit. Marry I will have him 
 
 Wife. Husband, husband ! [Wife, ^^few'. 
 
 Ralph. Peace, mistress. [Ralph below. 
 
 wife. Hold thy peace, Ralph, I know what I do, I warrant 
 ye. Husband, husband ! 
 
 Cit. What sayest iJiou, cony ? 
 
 Wije. Let him kill a lion with a pestle, husband ; let him kill 
 a lion with a pestle. i 
 
 Cit. So he shall, I'll have him kill a lion with a pestle. 
 
 Wife. Husband, shall I come up, husband ? 
 
 Cit. Ay, cony., Ralph, help your mistress up this way : 'pray,, 
 gentlemen, make her a little room ; I pray you, sir, lend me yoUr 
 hand to help up my wife ; I thank yoii, sir, so. - ' 
 
 Wife. By your leave, gentlemen all, I'm something trouble- 
 some, I'm a stranger here, I was ne'er at one of these plays, as 
 they say, before ; but I should have seen "Jane Shore" once-, and 
 my husband hath promised me anytime this twelvemonth,- to 
 carry me to the "Bold Beauchamps," but in truth he did not ; I 
 pray you bear with me. 
 
 Citl Boy, let my wife and I have a couple of stools, and then 
 begin, and let the grocer do rare things. 
 
 Pro. But, sir, we have never a boy to play him; every one 
 hath a part already. 
 
 Wife. Husband, husband, for God's sake let Ralph play him; 
 beshrew me if I do not think he will go beyond them all. ' ' 
 
 Cit. Well remembered wife ; come up, Ralph ;' I'll tell you, 
 gentlemen, let them but lend him a suit of reparrel, , and 
 necessaries, and by Gad, if any of them all blow Wind in the' tail 
 on him, I'll be hanged. 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. 19 
 
 Wife. J pfay you, youth, let him have a suit of reparrel : I'll 
 be sworn, gentlemen, my husband tells you true, he will act you 
 sometimes at our house, that all the neighbours cry out on him : 
 he will fetch you up a couraging part so in the garret, that we 
 are all as feared I warrant you, that we quake again. We fear 
 our children with him, if they be never so unruly, do but cry 
 " Ralph.comes, Rdlph comes " to them, and they'll be as quiet as 
 lambs. Hold up thy head, Ralph, show the gentlemen what 
 thou canst do ; speak a huffing part, I warrant you the gentlemen' 
 will accept of it. 
 
 at Do, Ralph, do. 
 
 Ralph. By heaven (methinks) it were an easy leap 
 To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, 
 Or dive info the bottom of the sea, 
 Where never fathom line touched any ground, 
 'And pluck drowned honour from the lake of hell. 
 
 Cit. How say you, gentlemen, is it not as I told you .'' 
 
 Wife. Nay, gentlemen, he hath played before, my husband 
 says, " IVEnsiiorus," before-the wardens of our company. 
 
 at. Ay, and he should have played " Jferonimo 'f with a shoe- 
 maker for a wager. . 
 
 Pro. He shall have a suit of .apparel, if he will go in. 
 
 at. In, Ralph, in, Ralph, and set out the grocers in their kind, 
 if thou lovest me. 
 
 Wife. I warrant our Ralph will look finely when he's dressed. 
 
 Pro. But what will you have it called ? 
 
 at. " The Grocer's Honour." 
 
 Pro. Methinks "The Knight of the Burning Pestle" were 
 better. ' 
 
 Wife. I'll be sworn, husband, that's as good a name as can be. 
 
 at. Let it be so, begin, begin ; my wife and I will sit down. 
 
 Pro. I pray you do. , 
 
 at. What stately .music have you ? Have you shawns ? 
 
 Pro. Shawns? Nor 1 
 
 , at. No? I'm a thief if my mind did not give me so. Ralph 
 plkys a stately part, and he must needs have shawns : I'll be at 
 the charge oifthem myself rather thaii we'll be without them. 
 
 Pro. So you are like to be. ' 
 
 at. Why and so I| will be, there's two shillings, let's have the 
 waits, of Southwark, they are as rare fellows as any are in 
 lEijgland ; and that vvill fetch them all o'er the water with a 
 vengeance, as if they were mad. 
 
 Pro. You shall have them ; will ypu sit down, then ? 
 
 at. Ay, come, wife. 
 
 WtJ/s. Sit you, merry all gentlemen, I'm bold to sit amongst 
 you for my ease- 
 
 Pro. From all that's near the Court, from all that's great 
 Within the compass of the city walls, 
 
2& 
 
 THE KNICHT OF [act i. 
 
 We now have brought our scene. Fly far from hence 
 
 All private taxes, all immodest phrases, 
 
 Whatever may but show like vicious, 
 
 For wicked mirth never true pleasure brings, 
 
 But honest minds are pleased with honest things. 
 
 Thus much for that we do. But for Ralph's part you must 
 
 answer for't yourself.' . 
 
 at. Take you no care for Ralph, he'll discharge himself, I 
 warrant you. 
 
 Wife^ I'faith, gentlemen, I'll give my word for Ralph. 
 
 ACT I.— Scene I. 
 Enter Merchant and Jasper his man. 
 
 Merck. Sirrah, I'll make you know you are my prentice. 
 And whom my charitable love redeem'd 
 Even from the fall of fortune ; gave thee heat 
 And growth, to be what now thou art ; new cast thee, 
 Adding the trust of all I have at home, 
 In foreign staples, or upon the sea. 
 To thy direction ; tied the good opinions 
 ■ Both of myself and friends to thy endeavours, — 
 So fair were thy beginnings. But with these, 
 As I remember, you had never charge 
 To love your master's daughter, and even then, 
 When I had found a wealthy husband for her, 
 I take it, sir, you had not ; but, however, 
 I'll break the neck of that commission, 
 And make you know you're but a merchant's factor. 
 
 yasp. Sir, I do lib'rally confess I'm yours, 
 Bound both by love and duty to your service : 
 In which my labour hath been all my profit. ' 
 I have not lost in bargain, nor delighted 
 To wear your honest gains upon my back, 
 Nor have I giv'n a pension to my blood, 
 Or lavishly in play consum'd your stock- 
 These, and the miseries that do attend them, 
 I dare with innocence proclaim are strangers 
 To all my temperate actions ; for your daughter. 
 If there be any love to my deservings 
 Borne by her virtuous self, I cannot stop it : 
 Nor am I able to refrain her wishes . 
 She's private to herself, and best of knowledge 
 Whom she will make so happy as to sigh for. 
 Besides, I cannot think you mean to match hfer 
 Unto a fellow of so lame a presence, 
 One that hath little left of nature in hirn. 
 
BCENU I.] THE BURNING PESTLE, i\ 
 
 Merck. 'Tis very well, sir, I can tell your wisdom 
 How all this siiall he cured. 
 
 ■jFasp. Youir care becomes you. 
 
 'Merck, And thus it shall be, sir ; I here discharge you 
 My house and service. Take your liberty. 
 And when I want a son I'll send for you. [Exii. 
 
 J asp. These be the fair rewards of them that love, 
 Oh you that live in freedom never prove 
 The travail of a mind led by desire. 
 
 Enter Luce. 
 
 ;Z««.. Why how now, friend, struck with ray father's thunder? 
 ' Jasp. Struck, and struck dead, unless the remedy 
 Be full of speed and virtue ; I am now, 
 What I expected long, no more your father's. 
 
 Luce. But mine. 
 
 Jasp. But yours, and only yours I am, 
 That's all I 'have to keep me from the statute ; 
 You dare be constant still .'' 
 
 Luce. O fear me not. 
 
 In this I dare be better than a woman. 
 Nor shall his anger nor his offers move me, 
 Were they both equal to a prince's power. 
 
 ' Ja^p. You know my rival ? 
 
 Luce. ' Yes, and love him dearly, 
 
 E'en as I love an ague, or foul weather ; 
 I prithee, Jasper, fear him not. 
 
 Jasp. Oh no, 
 
 I do not mean to dohim so much kindness. 
 Bui to our own desires : you know the plot 
 We both agreed on. 
 
 Luce. Yes, and will perform 
 
 My part exactly. 
 
 Jasp. I desire no more. 
 
 Farewell, and keep my heart, 'tis yours. 
 
 Luce. I take it. 
 
 He miist do' miracles, makes me forsake it. \_Exeuni. 
 
 at. Fie upon 'em, little infidels, what a matter's here now ? 
 Well, I'll be hang'd for a half-penny, if there be not some 
 abomination knavery in this play ; well, let 'em look to it, Ralph 
 must come, and if there be any tricks a-brewing— ^ 
 - Wife. Let 'em brew and bake too, husband, a God's name. 
 Ralph will find all out I warrant you, and they were older tha.n 
 they are. ' I pray, my pretty youth, is Ralph ready ? 
 
 Boy. He will be presently. 
 
 Wife. Now I pray you make my commendations unto him, 
 and withal, carry him this stick of liquorice ; tell him his 
 
23 THE KNIGHT of [act i. 
 
 ,ra,istress sent it him, and bid him bite a piece, 'twill open his 
 pipes the better, say. 
 
 Enter Merchant and Master Humphrey. 
 
 Merch. Come, sir, she's yours, upon my faith she's j'purs, 
 You have my hand,; for other idle lets, . 
 Between your hopes and her, thus with a wind 
 They're scattered,, and no more. My wanton prentice, 
 That like a bladder blew himself with love, 
 r have let out, and sent him to discover 
 New masters yet unknown. 
 
 Hum. > I thank you,- sir, 
 
 Indeed I thank you, sir ; and ere I stir. 
 It shall be known, however you do deem, 
 I am of gentle blood, and gentle seem. 
 
 Merch. Oh, sir, I know it certain. 
 
 Hum. . Sir, my friend, 
 
 Although, as writers say, all things have end. 
 And that we call a pudding, hath ,his two, 
 Oh let it iiot seem strange, I pray to you, 
 If in this bloody simile, I, put 
 My love, more endless than frail things or gut. 
 
 Wife. Husband, I prithee, sweet lamb; tell me one thing, but 
 tell me truly. Stay, youths, I beseech you, till I question niy 
 husband. 
 
 at. What is it, mouse ? 
 ' Wife. Sirrah, didst thou ever. see a prettier child? how it 
 behaves itself, I warrant you : and speaks and looks, and perts 
 up the head ? I pray you brother, wiih .your favour, were you 
 never one of Mr.,Muncaster's scholars ? . , ■ 
 
 at. Chicken, J prithee heartily contain thyself^ the childer 
 are pretty childer, but: when Ralph cpmes, lamb ! i 
 
 Wife. Ay, when Ralph comes, cony ! Well, my youth, you 
 may proceed. 
 
 Merch. Well, sir, you know my love, and rest, I hope, 
 Assured of my consent ; get but my daughter's. 
 And wed her when you please ; you must be bold, 
 And clap in close unto her ; come, I know 
 You've language good enough to win a wench. 
 
 Wife. A toity tyrant, hath, been an old stringer in his days, 
 I warrant him. 
 
 Hum. I take your gently offer, and withal 
 Yield love again for love reciprocal. 
 
 Mar. What, Luce, within there ? 
 
 Enter LucE. 
 Luce. Called you, sir ? 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURI^ING PESTLE. 23 
 
 Merck. I did ; 
 
 Give ententainment to this gentleman ;' 
 
 And see you be not froward : to ber, sir, , \_Exit, 
 
 My presence will but be an eyesore to you. 
 
 Hum. Fair rhistress Luce, how do you, are you well ? 
 Give me your hand, and then I pray you tell, 
 How doth your little sistei;, and your brother. 
 And whether you love me or any other ? 
 
 Ltice. Sir, these are quickly answered. 
 
 Hum. So they' are, 
 
 Where womeii are not cruel ; but how far 
 . Is it now distant from the place we are' in, 
 U,nto, that blessed place, your father's warren. 
 
 Luce. What makes you think of that, sir ? 
 
 Hum. ^ E'en that face, 
 
 For stealing rabbits whilome in that place, 
 God Ciipid, or the keeper, I know not whether, 
 IJnto my cost and charges brought you thither, 
 . And there began 
 
 Luce. Your game, sir. 
 
 Hum. Let no game, 
 
 Or anything that tendeth to the same. 
 Be evermore remembered, thou fair killer, ^ 
 For whom I sate me down and brake my tiller. 
 , Wife. There's a kind gentjeman, I warrant you. When will 
 you do as much for me, George ? 
 
 Luce. Beshrew me, sir, I'm sorry for your losses. 
 But as. the proverb says, I cannot cry ; 
 I would you had not seen me. 
 
 Hum. So would I, 
 
 IJnless you had more maw to do me good. 
 
 Luce. Why, cannot this strange passion be withstood ? 
 Send for a constable, and raise the town. 
 
 Hum. Oh no, my valiant love will batter down 
 Millions of constables, and put to flight 
 E'en that great watch of Midsummer Day at night. 
 
 Luce. Beshrew me, sir^ 'twere good I yielded then. 
 Weak women cannot hope, where valiant men 
 Have no resistance. ■ 
 
 Huvi. Yield then, I am full 
 
 Of pity, though I say it, and can pull 
 Out of my pocket thus a pair of gloves-. 
 Look, Luce, look, the dog's tooth, nor the doves 
 Are not so white as these ; and sweet they be, 
 And whipt about with silk, as you may see. 
 If you desire the price, shoot from your eye 
 A beam to this place, and you shall espy 
 F. S., which is to say, my sweetest honey, 
 They cost me thre4-and-twopence, arid no money. 
 
24 TliE KNIGHT OF '[act. I. 
 
 Licce, Well, sir, I take them kindly, and 1 thank' you ; what 
 What would you more ? ^ 
 
 Hum. Nothing. 
 
 Luce. . Why then, farewell. 
 
 Hum. N or so, nor so, for, lady, I must tell, 
 Before we part^ for what we met together, 
 God grant me time, and patience, and fair weather. 
 
 iMce. Speak and declare your mind in terms so brief. 
 
 Hum. I shall ; then first and foremost, for relief 
 I call to you, if that you can afford it, 
 I care not at what price, for on my word it 
 Shall be repaid again, although it cost me 
 More than I'll speak of now, for love hath tost me 
 In furious blanket like a tennis-ball, 
 And now I rise aloft, and now I fall. 
 
 Luce. Alas, good gentleman, alas the day. 
 
 Hum. I thank you heartily, and as \ say, 
 Thus do I still continue without rest, 
 1' th' tnorning like a man, at night a beast. 
 Roaring and bellowing mine own disquiet, 
 That much I fear, forsaking of my- diet, 
 Will bring me presently to that quandary, 
 I shall bid all adieu. 
 
 Luce. Now, by St. Mary 
 
 That were great pity. 
 
 Hum. So it were, beshrew me, 
 
 Then ease me, lusty Luce, and pity shew me. 
 
 Liice. Why, sir, you know my will is nothing worth 
 Without my father's grant ; get bis consent, ' 
 And then you may with full assurance try me. 
 
 Hum, The worshipful your sire will not deny me, 
 For I have ask'd him, and he hath replied, - 
 Sweet Master Humphrey, Luce shall be thy bride. 
 
 Luce. Sweet Master Humphrey, then I am content. 
 Hum. And so am I, in truth. 
 
 Ltice. Yet take me with you. 
 
 There is another clause must be annext, 
 And this it is I swore, and will perform it. 
 No man shall ever joy ine as his wife. 
 But he that stole me hence If you dare venture, 
 I'ni yours ; you need not fear, my father Ibves you, 
 If not, farewell, for ever. 
 
 Hum. "Stay, nymph, stay, 
 
 I have a double gelding, colour'd bay. 
 Sprung by his father frotn Barbarian kind, 
 Another for myself, though somewhat blind, 
 Yet true as trusty tree. 
 
SpENEiJ THE Bt/RNING PESTLE. 25 
 
 Luce. ^ I'm satisfied, 
 
 And so I give my hand ; pur course must lie 
 Through Waltham Forest, where I have a friend 
 Will entertain us ; so farewell, Sir Humphrey, 
 And think upon your business. [Exit LucE. 
 
 'Hum. Though I die, 
 
 I am resolv'd to venture life and limb. 
 For one so young, so fair, so kind, so trim. [Exit Hum: 
 
 Wife. By my faith and troth, George, and as I am virtuous, 
 it is e'en the kindest young man that ever trod on shoe-leather ; 
 well, go thy ways, if thou hast her not, 'tis not thy fault 
 i'faith. 
 
 Cit. I prithee, mouse, be patient, a shall have her, or I'll make 
 some of 'em smoke for't. 
 
 "Wife. That's my good lamb, George; fie, this stinking 
 tobacco kills me, would there were none in England. Now I 
 pray, gentlemen, what good does this stinking tobacco do you .'' 
 nothing ; I warrant you make chimnies o' your faces. Oh, hus- 
 band, husband, now, now there's Ralph, there's Ralph ! 
 
 Enter RALPH, like a grocer in Ms shop, with two prentice^, 
 reading '^ Palmerin of Englandy 
 
 Cit. Peace, fool, let Ralph alone ; hark you, Ralph, do not 
 strain yourself too much at the first. Peace, begin, Ralph. 
 
 Ralph. Then Palmerin and Trineus, snatching their lances 
 from their dwarfs, and clasping their helmets, galloped amjiin 
 after the giant, and Palmerin having gotten a sight of him, 
 came posting amain, saying, " Stay, traitorous thief, for thou 
 mayst not so carry away het that is worth the greatest lord in 
 the worlds" dnd, with these words, gave him a blow on the 
 shoulder, that he struck him. beside his elephants and Trineus 
 coming to the knight that hadAgricola behind him, set him soon 
 beside his horse, -with his neck broken in the fall, so that the 
 princess, getting out of the throng, between joy and grief said, 
 " All happy knight, the mirror of all such as follow arms, now 
 may I be well assured of the love thou bearest me" I wonder 
 why the kings do not raise an army of fourteen or fifteen hundred 
 thousand men, as big as the army that the Prince of Portigo 
 brought against Rosicler, and destroy these giants ; they dp 
 much hurt to wandering damsels that go in quest of their 
 knights. 
 
 ■ Wife. Faith, husband, and Ralph says true, for they say the 
 King of Portugal cannot sit at his meat but the giants and the 
 ettins will come and snatch it from him. 
 ^ Cit. Hold thy tongue ; on, Ralph, 
 
 Ralph. And certainly those knights are much to be com- 
 
26 THE KNIGHT OF [act 1. 
 
 mended who, neglecting their possessions, wander with a squire 
 and a dwarf through the deserts to reheve poor ladies. 
 
 Wife. Ay, by my faith are they, Ralph, let 'em say what they 
 will,, they are indeed ; our loiights neglect their possessions well 
 enough, but they do not the rest. . , : . > 
 
 Ralph. There are no such courteous and fair well-spoken 
 
 •knights in this age ; they will call one the son of a sea-cook that 
 
 Palmerin of England would have called fair ,sjr ; and one that 
 
 Rosicler would have called right, beautiful damsel they will call 
 
 old witch. , ,..■-, 
 
 Wife. I'll b'e sworn will they, Ralph ; they have called ma so 
 an hundred times about a scurvy pipe of tobacco. - ^ 
 
 Ralph. But what brave spirit could be content to sit in his 
 shop, with a flapet of wood, and a blue apron before, him, selling 
 Methridatam and Dragons' Water to visited houses, that might 
 pursue feats of arms, and through his noble achievements 
 procure such a famous history to be written of his heroic 
 prowess ? 
 
 Cit. Well said, Ralph ; some more of those words, Ralph.. 
 
 Wife. They go finely, by my troth. 
 
 Ralph. Why should I not then pursue this course, both for 
 the credit of myself and our company? for amongst all the 
 worthy books of achievements, I do not call to mind that I yet 
 read of a grocer erraiit : I will be the said knight. Have you 
 heard of any that hath wandered unfurnished of his squire and 
 dwarf? My elder prentice Tim shall be my trusty squirej and 
 little George my dwarf. Hence, my blue apron ! Yet, inremem- 
 ' brance of my former trade, upon my shield shall be portrayed a 
 burning pestle, and I will h& called the Knight bf the Burning 
 Pestle. ' 
 
 Wife. Nay, I dare swear thou wilt not forget thy old tjrade, 
 thou wert ever meek. Ralph ■! Tim ! 
 
 Tijii. Anon. 
 
 Ralph'. My beloved squire, and, George my dwarf, I charge 
 you that from henceforth you never call me by any other name 
 but the, Right courteous and vahant, Knight of tlie Burning 
 Pestle ; and that you never call any female by the name of a 
 ^sroman or wench, but fair lady, if she have her desires ; if not, 
 distressed damsel ; thatyou call all forests and heaths, deserts; 
 and all hofses, palfreys. , . , , 
 
 Wife. This is very fine : faith, do the gentlemen like Ralph, 
 th^ink you, husband?, 
 
 at. Ay, I warrant thee, the playisrs would give all the shoes 
 iri their shop for him. ■ 
 
 • Ralph. My beloved Sc[uire Tim, stand out. Admit this were a 
 desert, and over it a knight errant pricking, and I should bid 
 you inquire of his intents, what would you say ? 
 
 Tiw. Sir, my master sent me to know whither you are riding ? 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. 27 
 
 Ralph. No, thus: Fair sir, the Right courteous and valiapt 
 Knight of the Burning Pestle, commanded rae to inquire upon 
 what adventure you are bound, whether to reheve some dis^ 
 tressed damsel or otherwise. x , 
 
 at. Dunder blockhead cannot remember. 
 
 Wife. I'faith, and Ralph told him on't before ; all the gentle- 
 men heard him ; did he not, gentlemfenj did not Ralph tell him 
 on't ? • , 
 ■ (7i?<7r^^. Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning 
 Pestle, here is a distressed damsel to have a halfpenny-worth of 
 pepper. 
 
 Wife. That's a good boy, see, the little boy can hit it ; by my 
 troth it's a fine child. 
 
 Ralph. Relieve her With all courteous language ; now shut up 
 shop : no more my prentice, but my trusty squire and dwarf, \ 
 must bespeak; my shield, and arming pestle. 
 
 at. Go thy ways, Ralph, as I am a true man, thou art the 
 best on 'em all. 
 
 Wife: Ralph ! Ralph I 
 
 Ralph. What say you, mistress ? 
 
 wife. I prithee come again quickly, sweet Ralph. 
 
 Ralph. By-and-by. , , \Exit Ralph. 
 
 Enter ]A.SVE.VL,atid his mother MISTRESS Merry-THOUGHT. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Give thee my blessing ?, No, I'll never give thee 
 hiy blessing, I'll see thee hang'd first ; it shall ne'er be said I' 
 gave. thee my blessing. Thou art thy father's own son, of the 
 blood of the JVIerry-thoughts ; I may curse the time that e'er I 
 knew thy father, he hath spent all his own, and mine too, and 
 when I tell Jiim of it, he laughs and dances and sings, and cries 
 " A merry heart lives long-a." , And thou art a wast-thrift, and art 
 run away from thy master, that lov'd thee well, and art come to 
 me, and I have laid up a little for my younger son Michael, and 
 thou thinkest to bezle that, but thou shalt never be able to 
 do it. Come hither, Michael, come Michael, down on thy knees, 
 thou shalt have my blessing. 
 
 Enter Michael. 
 
 Mich. I pray you, mother, pray to God to bless me. 
 
 Mist. Mer^ God bless thee; but Jasper shall never have my 
 blessing, he shall be hang'd first, shall he not, Michael .'' how 
 sayest thou ? 
 
 Mich. Yes forsooth, mother, and grace of God. 
 
 Mist. Mer. That's a good boy. 
 
 Wife. I'faith, it's a fine spoken child. 
 
 Jcisp. Mother, though you forget a parent's love. 
 
28 THE KNIGHT OF [ACT i. 
 
 I must preserve the duty of a child. 
 I ran not from njy master, nor return 
 To have your stock maintain, my idleness. 
 
 Wife. Ungracious child I warrant him, hark how he chops 
 logic with his mother ; thou hadst best tell her she lies, do, tell 
 her she lies. 
 
 at. If he were my son, I would hang him up by the heels, and 
 flea him, and salt him, humpty halter-sack. 
 
 J asp. My coming only is to bdg your love, 
 ' Which I must ever, though I never gain it ; 
 And howsoever you esteem of me. 
 There is no drop of blood hid in these veins, 
 But I remember well belongs to you. 
 That brought me forth, and would be jglad for you 
 To rip thepi all again, and let it out. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Ffaith I had sorrow enough for thee, God 
 knows ; but I'll hamper thee well enough : get thee in, thou 
 vagabond, get thee in, and learn of thy brother Michael. 
 
 Old Mer.. [within]. " Nose, nose, jolly red nose, 
 
 And who gave thee this jolly red nose ? " 
 
 Mist. Mer. Hark, my husband he's singing and hoiting, 
 And I'm fain to cark and care, and all little enough. 
 Husband, Charles, Charles Merry-thought ! 
 
 Enter Old Merry-thought. 
 
 Old Mer, " Nutmegs and ginger, cinnamon and cloves. 
 And they gave me this jolly red nose." 
 
 Mist. Mer. If you would consider your estate, you would 
 liave little list to sing, I wis. 
 
 Old Mer. It should never be considered, while .it were an 
 estate, if I thought it would spoil my singing. 
 
 Mist. Mer. But how wilt thou do, Charles ? Thou art an old 
 man, and thou canst not work, and thou hast not forty shillings 
 left, and thou eatest good meat, and drinkest good drink, and 
 laughest ? 
 
 Old Mer. And will do. 
 
 Mist. Mer. But how wilt thou come by it, Charles ? 
 
 Old Mer. How .' Why how have I done hitherto these forty 
 years ? I never came into my dining-room, but at eleven and 
 six o'clock I found excellent meat and drink o' th' table. My 
 clothes were never worn out, but next raorni;ig a tailor brought 
 me a new suit, and without question it will be so ever ! Use 
 make's perfectness ; if all should fail, it is but a little straining 
 myself extraordinary, aiid laugh myself to death. 
 
 Wife. It's a foolish old man this : is not he, George ? 
 
 at. Yes, honey. 
 
 Wife. Give me a penny i' th' purse while I live, George. 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. 29 
 
 at. Ay, by'r lady, honey hold thee there. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Well, Charles, you promised to provide for Jasper, 
 and I have laid up for Michael. .1 pray you pay Jasper his 
 portion, he's come home, and he shall not consume Michael's 
 stock ; he says his master turned hini away, but I promise you 
 truly, I think he ran away. 
 
 Wife. No indeed, Mistress Merry-thought, though he be a 
 notable gallows, yet I'll assure you his master did turn him 
 away, even in, this place, 'twas i'faith within this half-hour, 
 about his daughter ; my husband was by. 
 
 at. Hang, him, rogue, he served him well enough : love his 
 master's daughter ! By my troth, honey, if there were a 
 thousand boys, thou wouldst spoil them all, with taking tHeir 
 parts ; let his mother alone with him. 
 
 Wtfe. Ay, George, but yet truth is truth. 
 
 Old Mer. Where is Jasper.' He's welcome, however, call 
 him in, he shall have his portion ; is he merry ? 
 
 Mist. Mer. Ay, foul chive him, he is too merry. Jasper ! 
 Michael ! 
 
 Enter Jasper and Michael. 
 
 Old Mer. Welcome, Jasper, though thou runn'st away, 
 welcome ! God bless thee ! It is thy mother's mind thou should'st 
 receive thy portion ; thou hast been abroad, and I hope hast 
 learnt experience enough to govern it. Thou art of sufficieint 
 years. Hold thy hind : one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, 
 eight, nine, there is ten shillings for thee ; thrust thyself into the 
 world with that, and take some settled course. If fortune cross 
 thee, thou hast a retiring place ; come home to me, I have twenty 
 ' shillings left. Be a good husband, that is, wear ordinary clothes, 
 eat the best meat, and drink the best drink ; be meriry, and give 
 to the poor, and believe me, thou hast no end of thy goods. 
 
 J asp. Long may you live free from all thought of ill, 
 And long have cause to be thus merry still. 
 But, father .? 
 
 Old Mer. No more words, Jasper, get thee gone, thou hast my 
 blessing, thy father's spirit upon thee. Farewell, Jasper. 
 " But yet; or e'er you part (oh cruel), 
 Kiss me,, kiss me, sweeting, 
 Mine own dear jewel." 
 So, now begone,, no words. \Exit JASPER. 
 
 Mist. Mer. So, Michael, now get thee gone too. 
 
 Mich. Yes forsooth, mother, but I'll have my father's blessing 
 first. 
 
 Mist. Mer. No, Michael, 'tis no matter for his blessing ; thou 
 hast my blessing. Begone ; I'll fetch my money and jewels and 
 follow thee : I'll stay no longer with him I warrant thee. Trulyj 
 Charles, I'll be gone too. 
 
3© 
 
 THE KNIGHT OF [act il. 
 
 Old M^r. What ? You will iiot. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Yes indeed will I. 
 
 ■ Old Mer. '' Heyho, farewell, Nan, 
 
 I'll never trust wench more again, if I can." 
 Mist. Mer. You shall not think (when all your own is gone) 
 to Spend that I have been scraping up for Michael. ■ 
 
 Old Mer. Farewell, good wife, I expect it not,, all ,1 have to do 
 ip this world is to be merry ; which I shall, if the ground be not 
 taken from me ; and if it be, 
 
 "When earth and seas from me are reft, 
 The skies aloft for me are left." [Exeunt. 
 
 [Boy dances. Music. 
 
 Finis Actus Primi. 
 
 Wife. I'll, be sworn he's a merry old gentleman for all that. 
 Hark, hajrk, husband, hark, fiddles, fiddles ; now surely they go 
 finely. They say 'tis present death for these fiddlers to tune 
 their rebecks before the great Turk's grace, is't not, George? 
 But look, look, here's a youth dances ; now, good youth, do a turn 
 o' the toe. Sweetheart, i'faith I'll have Ralph come and do 
 some of his gambols : he'll ride the wild mare, gentlemen, 
 'twould do your hearts good to see him : I thank you, kind youth, 
 pray bid Ralph come. 
 
 at. Peace, conie. Sirrah, you scurvy boy, bid the players 
 send Ralph, or an' they do not I'll tear some of their periwigs 
 beside their heads : this is aU riff-raff. 
 
 ACT II.-rSCENE I. 
 Enter Merchant and Humphrey. 
 
 Merch. And how faith ? how goes it now, son Humphrey ? 
 
 Hum. Right worshipful and my beloved friend. 
 And father dear, this matter's at an end. 
 
 Merch. 'Tis well, it should be so, I'm glad the girl 
 Is found so tractable. 
 
 Hum. Nay, she must whirl 
 
 From hence (and you must wink : for so I say, 
 The story tells), to-morrow before day. 
 
 Wife. George, dost thou think in thy conscience iiow 'twill be 
 a match ? tell ihe but what thou thinkest, sweet rogue, thou seest 
 the poor gentleman (dear heart) how it labours and throbs I' 
 warrant you, to be at rest : I'll go move the father for't. 
 
 ■Cit. No, no, I prithee sit still, honeysuckle, thpu'lt spoil all ; 
 if he deny him, I'll bring half a dozen good fellows myself, and 
 in the shutting of an evening knock it up', and there's an end. 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. 31 
 
 Wife. I'll buss thee for that i'faithy boy ; well, George, well, 
 you have been a wag in your -d'ays I .warrant you ; but God 
 .fbrgive you, and I do with all my heart. 
 
 Merch. How was it, son.? you told me that to-morrow before 
 daybreak, you must convey her hence. , 
 
 Hum,. I must, I must, and thus it is agreed,. 
 Your daughter rides upon a brown bay steed,' 
 I on- a sorrel, which I bought of Brian, 
 The honest host of the Red Roaring Lion, 
 In Waltham situate': then if you may. 
 Consent in seemly sort, lest by delay, 
 The fatal yisters come, and do the office,, 
 Ahd then you'll sing, another song, 
 
 Merch.". Alas, 
 
 Why should you be .thus full of grief to me. 
 That dp as willing a,s yourself agree 
 To anything, so it be gOod and fair ? 
 Then steal hei' when you will, if such a pleasure 
 Content you both, I'll sleep and never see it, 
 To make your joys more full : but tell nje why 
 You may not here perform, your marriage ? ' 
 
 Wife. God's blessing o' thy, |SOul, old man, i'faith thou art 
 loath to part true hearts : I see a.has her, George, and I'm glad 
 on't ; well, go thy ways, Humphrey, for a fair-spoken man. I 
 believe thou hast not a fellow within the, walls of London ; an' I 
 should say the suburbs too, I should not lie. Why 'dost not 
 thou rejoice with me, George.'', 
 
 Cit. If I fzavX^ but See Ralph again, I were as merry as mine 
 tost i'faith. i, 
 
 Httm. The cause you seem to ask, I, thus declare ; 
 Kelp me, O Muses nine :, your daughter sware 
 A foolish oath,: the more it was the pity : 
 lYet no one but myself within this city 
 Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance 
 Shall meet him, were he of the noble science. 
 And yet she sware, and yet why did she swear ? 
 Truly I cannot tell, unless it were - 
 For her own ease J for sure sometimes an oath. 
 Being sworn thereafter, is like cordial broth : 
 And this it was she swore, never to marry. 
 But such a one whose mighty artri could carry 
 (As meaniiig me, for I am such a one) 
 Her bodily away through stick and stone, 
 Till both of us arrive, at her request, 
 Some ten miles off in the wide Waltham Fordst. 
 
 Merch. If this be all, you shall not need to fear 
 Any denial in your love ; proceed, 
 i'U neither follow nor repent the deed. 
 
32 THE KNIGHT OF [act ii. 
 
 Hum. Good night, twenty good nights, and twenty more, 
 And twenty more good nights : that makes threescore. \Exeunf. 
 
 Enter MISTRESS MERRY-THOUGHT and her son Michael, 
 
 Mist. Mer. Come; Michael, art thou not weary, boy ? 
 
 Mick. No, forsooth, mother, not I. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Where be we now, child ? 
 
 Mich. Indeed forsooth, mother, I cannot tell, unless we be at 
 Mile End. Is not all the world Mile End, mother ? 
 
 Mist. Mer. No, Michael, not all the world, boy ; but I , can 
 assure thee, Michael, Mile End is a goodly matter. There has 
 been a pitched field, my child, between • the naughty Spaniels 
 and the Englishmen ; and the Spaniels ran away, Michael, and 
 the Englishmen followed. My neighbour CoxStone was there, 
 boy, and killed them all with a birding-piece. 
 
 Mich. Mother, forsooth. 
 
 Mist. Mer. What says my white boy .■■ 
 
 Mich. Shall not my father go with vs too ? 
 
 Mist. Mer. No, Michael, let thy father go snick-up," he shall 
 never come between a pair of sheets with me aga;in while he 
 lives :'let him, stay at home and sing for his supper, boy. Corne, 
 child, sit down, and I'll show my boy fine knacks indeed*; look 
 here, Michael, here's a ring, and here's a brooch, and here's a 
 bracelet, and here's two rings more, and here's money, and gold 
 by th' eye, my boy. 
 
 Mich. Shall I have all this, mother "> 
 
 Mist. Mer. Ay, Michael, thou shalt have all, Michael' 
 
 at. How lik'st thou this, wench 'i 
 
 Wife. I cannot tell, I would have Ralph, George ; I'll see no 
 more else indeed la : and I pray you let the youths understand 
 so much by word of mouth, for I will tell you truly, I'm afraid o' 
 my boy. Come, come, George, let's be merry and wise, the 
 child's a fatherless child, and say th^y should put him into a 
 strait pair of gaskins, 'twere worse than knot-grass, he would 
 never grow after it. 
 
 Enter Ralph, Squire, and Dwarf. 
 
 at. Here's Ralph,, here's Ralph. 
 
 Wife. How do you, Ralph .? You are welcome, Ralph, as I 
 may say, it's a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not afraid, 
 we are thy friends, Ralph. The gentlemen will prais^thee, 
 Ralph, if thou play'st thy part with audacity ; begin, Ralph a 
 God's name. 
 
 Ralph. My trusty squire, unlace my helm, give me my hat; 
 where are we, or what desert might this be ? 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. -33 
 
 Dwarf. Mirror of knighthood, this is, as I take it, the perilous 
 Waltham down, in whose bottom stands the enchanted valley. 
 
 Mist.Mer. Oh, Michael, we are betrayed, we are betrayed, 
 here be giants ; fly, boy ; fly, boy ; fly ! 
 
 {Exeunt MOTHER and MICHAEL. 
 
 Ralph. Lace on my helm again ; tvhat noise is this .' 
 A gentle lady flying the embrace , 
 Of some uncourteous knight : I will relieve her. 
 Go, squire, and say, the linight that wears this pestle 
 In honour of all ladies, swears revenge 
 Upon that recreant coward that pursues her ; 
 ,Go,-comfort her, and that same gentle sqijire 
 That bears her company. 
 
 Souire. 1 go, brave knight. 
 
 Ralph. My trusty dwarf and friend, reach me my shield, 
 And hold it while I swear, first by my knighthood. 
 Then by the soul of Amadjs de Gaul, 
 My- famous ancestor, then by my sword, 
 The beauteous Brionella girt about me. 
 By this bright burning pestle, of mine honour 
 The livtng trophy, and by all respect 
 Due to distressed damsels, here I vow 
 Never to end the quest of this fair lady. 
 Arid that forsaken squire, till by my valour 
 1 gain their liberty. 
 
 , : ' Dwarf. Heaven bless the knight 
 
 That thus relieves poor errant gentlewomen. {Exit. 
 
 ■Wife. Ay marry, Ralph, this has some savour in it, I would 
 see the proudest of them all offer to carry his books after him. 
 But, George, I will not have him go away so soon, I shall be sick 
 if he go away, that I shall ; call Ralph again, George, call 
 Ralph again ; I prithee, sweetheart, let him come fight before me, 
 and let's have some drums and trumpets, and let him kill all, 
 that comes near him, an' thou lov'st me, George. 
 
 at. Peace a little, bird, he shall kill them all, an' they were 
 twenty more on 'em than there are. ' 
 
 Enter Jasper. 
 
 J asp. Now, Fortune (if thou be'st not only ill), 
 Show ine thy better face, and bring about 
 Thy desperate wheel, that I may climb at length 
 And stand ; this is our place of meeting. 
 If love have any constancy. Oh age 
 Where only wealthy men are counted happy : 
 How shall I please thee .? how deserve thy smiles, 
 When I am only rich in misery ? 
 My father's blessing, and this little coin. 
 
34 . THE KNIGHT OF [act II. 
 
 Is my inheritance. A strong'revenue ! 
 
 From earth thou art, and unto earth I give thee. 
 
 There grow and multiply, whilst fresher air , , 
 
 Breeds me a fresher fortune. How, illusion ;I \_Sj>us the casket.^ 
 
 What, hath t\he .devil coined himself before me .'' 
 
 'Tis metal good, it rings well, I am waking, 
 
 And taking tob I hope ; now Qcid's dear blessing 
 
 Upon his heart that left it here, 'tis mine ; 
 
 These pearls, Itake it; were not left for swine. {Exit. 
 
 Wife. I do not like this unthrifty youth should embe2r2le away 
 the money ; the poor gentlewoman his mother will have a heavy, 
 heart for it, God knows. , ' 
 
 at. And reason good, sweetheart. 
 
 Wife. But let him go, I'll tell Ralph a tale in's ear, shall 
 fetch hirtl again with a waiiion, I warrant him, if he be above 
 ground ; and besides, George, here be a number, of sufficient 
 gentlemen can witness, and myself, and yourself, and the 
 musicians, if we be called iri question ; but here comes Ralph, 
 George ; thou shalt hear him speak, as he were an Emperal. 
 
 Enter Ralph and Dwarf- 
 
 Ralph. Comes not Sir Squire again ? 
 
 />«/«?/. Right courteous knight. 
 Your squire doth come, and with him comes the lady 
 Fair, and the squire of damsels, as I take it. 
 
 Enter Mistress Merry-thought, Michael, and Squire. 
 
 ; Ralph. Madam, if any service or devoir 
 Of 'a poor errant knight may right your wrongs, 
 Command it. I am prest to give you succour. 
 For to that holy end I bear my armour. , 
 
 Mist. Mer. Alas, sir, I am a poor gentlewoman, and I havb ' 
 lost my money in this forest. ■ 
 
 Ralph. Desert, you would say, lady^ and not lost 
 Whilst I have sword- and larice ; dry up your tears. 
 Which ill befit the beauty of that face. 
 And. tell the story, if I may request it, 
 Of your disastrous fortune. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Out alas, I left a thousand pound, a thousand 
 pound, e'en all the money I had laid Up for this youth, upon the 
 sight of your mastership. You looked so grim, and as I may say 
 it, saving your presence, more like a giant than a mortal man. 
 
 Ralph. I am as you are, lady, so are they 
 All mortal ; but why weeps this gentle squire ? 
 
 Mist. Mer. Has he not cause to weep do you think, when he 
 has lost his inheritance? ; 
 
 Ralph. Young hope of valour, weep not, I am here 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE 35 
 
 ,That will confound thy foe, and pay it dear 
 
 Upon his coward head, that dare deny 
 
 Distressed squires and ladies equity. ^ 
 
 I have but one horse, upon which shall ride 
 
 This lady fair beliind me, and before 
 
 This pourteous squire, fortune will give us more 
 
 Upon our next adventure ; fairly speed 
 
 Beside us squire and dwai;f, to do us need. [Exeunt. 
 
 at. Did not I tell you, NeU, vvhat your man would do .■' by 
 the faith of my body, wench, for clean action and good delivery, 
 they may all cast their caps at him. 
 
 Wife. And so they may i'faith. for I dare speak it boldly, the 
 twelve cotnpanies of London cannot match him, timber for 
 timber. Well, George, an' he be not inveigled by some of these 
 paltry players, I ha' much marvel ; but, George, we ha' done our 
 parts, if the boy have any grace to be thankful. 
 
 at. Yes, I warrant you, duckling. 
 
 Enter HuMPHi^Ey mid Luce. 
 
 Hum. Good Mistress Luce, however I in fault am 
 For your lame horse, you're welcome unto Waltham ! 
 But which way now to go, or what to say 
 I know not traly, till it be broad day. ' 
 
 Luce. O fear not, Master Humphrey, I am guide 
 For this place good enough. 
 
 Hum. Then up and ride, ' 
 
 Or if it please. you, walk for your repose, 
 Or sit, or if you will, go pluck a rose : 
 Either of which shall be indifferent 
 To your good friend and Humphrey, whose consent 
 Is so entangled ever to your will, 
 As the poor harmless horse is to the mill. 
 
 Luce\, Faith and you say the word, we'll e'en sit down, 
 And take a nap. 
 
 , Hum. 'Tis better in the town. 
 
 Where we may nap together; for believe me, 
 To , sleep without a match would mickle grieve me. 
 
 LwCe. You're merry. Master Humphrey. 
 
 Hum. So I am, 
 
 And have been ever merry from my dam. 
 
 Luce. Your nurse h^d the less labour.. 
 
 Hunt. Faith it may be^ 
 
 'Unless it were by chance I did bewray me. 
 
 Entet Jasper. 
 
 yasp. Luce, -dear friend Luce. 
 
 Ltice. ' Here, Jasper. 
 
 B 2 
 
36 THE- KNIGHT OF [act ii 
 
 Jasp. You are mine. 
 
 Hum. If it be so, my friend, you use me fine : 
 What do you, think I am? 
 
 Jasp. An arrant noddy. 
 
 Hum. A word of obloquy ; now by my body, 
 I'll tell thy master, for I know thee well. 
 
 Jasp. Nay, an' you be so, forward for to tell, 
 Take that, and that, and tell him, sir, I gave it : \_B,eats him. 
 And say I paid you well. 
 
 Hum. O, sir, I have it, 
 
 And do confess the, payment, pray be quiet. 
 ' Jasp. Go, get you to your night-cap and the diet, 
 To cure your beaten bones. 
 
 Luce. Alas, poor Humphrey, 
 
 Get thee some wholesome broth with sage and cumfry : 
 A little oil of roses, and a feather 
 To 'noint thy back withal. ■ 
 
 Hum. ' When I came hither, 
 
 Would I had gone to Pa,ris with John Dory. 
 
 Luce. Farewell, my pretty numps, I'm very sorry 
 I cannot bear thee company. 
 
 Hum. Farewell, 
 
 The devil's dam was ne'er so bang'd in hell. \_Exmnt. 
 
 Manet HUMPHREY. 
 
 Wife. This young Jasper will prove me another things, a fny 
 conscience, and he may be suffered ; George, dost not see, 
 George, how a swaggers, and flies at the very heads a folks as 
 he were a dragon ; well, if I do not do his lesson for wronging, 
 the poor gentleman, I arn no true wojnan; his friends .that 
 trought him up might have been better occupied, I wis, than 
 have taught him these fegaries : he's e'en in the highway to the 
 gallows, God bless him. 
 
 , Ci(. You're too bitter, cony, the young man ma,y do well 
 enough for all this. ' - 
 
 ■ Wife. Corhe hither. Master Humphrey, has he hurt you? 
 Now beshrew his fingers for't ; here, sweetheart, here's some 
 green ginger for thee, now beshrew my heart, but a has pgpper- 
 nel in's head, as big as ,a pullet's egg ; alas, sweet ,lamb, how 
 thy temples beat; take the peace on him, sweetheart, take the 
 peaqe on him. 
 
 Enter a BOY. 
 
 at. No, no, you talk like a foolish woman ; FU-ha' Ralph 
 fight with him, and swinge him up well-favour'dly. Sirrah boy, 
 come hither, let Ralph come in and fight with Jasper. 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. 37 
 
 Wife. Ay, and beat him well, he's an unhappy boy. ' 
 
 Boy. Sir, you must pardon us, the plot of our play lies 
 contrary, and 'twill hazard the spoiling of our play. 
 
 CiL Plbt me no plots, I'll ha' Ralph come out ; I'll make your 
 house too hot for you else. 
 
 Boy. Why, sir, he sjiall ; but if anything fall out of order, the 
 gentlemen must pardon us. 
 
 at. Go your ways, goodman boy, I'll hold him a penny he 
 shall have his belly full of fighting now. Ho, here comes Ralph ; 
 no more. 
 
 EnierRAL-pW, MISTRESS MERRY-THOUGHT, IVIlCHAEL, SQUIRE, 
 
 atid Dwarf. 
 
 Ralph. What knight is that, squire ? Ask hini if he keep 
 The passage bound by love of lady fair, 
 Or else but prickant. 
 
 Hum. Sir, I am no knight, 
 
 But a poor gentleman, that this same night, 
 Had stolen from me, upon yonder green, 
 My lovely wife, and suffered (to be seen 
 Yet extant on my shoulders) such a greeting. 
 That whilst I live, I shall think of that meeting. 
 
 Wife. Ay, Ralph, he beat him unmercifully, Ralph, an' thou 
 spar'st him, Ralph, I would thou wert hang'd. 
 
 Cit. No more, wife, no more. 
 
 . Ralph. Where is the caitiff wretch hath done this deed ? 
 Lady, your pardon, that I may proceed 
 Upon the quest of this injurious knight. 
 And thou, fair squire, repute me not the worse, 
 In leaving the great 'venture of the purse 
 And the rich casket, till some better leisure. 
 
 Enter Jasper and Luce. 
 
 Hum. Here comes the broker hath purloined my treasure. 
 
 Ralph. Go, squire, and tell him I am here, 
 An errant knight at arms, to crave delivery 
 Of that fair lady to her own knight's arms. 
 If he deny, bid him take choice of ground, 
 And so defy him. 
 
 Squire. From the knight that bears 
 
 The golden pestle, I defy thee, knight, 
 Unless thoti make fair restitution 
 Of that bright' lady. 
 
 Jasp'. ' Tell the knight that sent thee 
 
 He is an ass, and I will keep the wench, 
 And knock his head-piece. 
 
38 THE KNIGHT OF [act ii. 
 
 Ralph, Knight, thou art but dead, 
 If thou recall not thy uncdurteous terms. 
 
 Wtfe. Break his pate, Ralph ; break his pate, Ralph, soundly. 
 
 Jasp. Come, knight, I'ln ready for you, now your pestle 
 
 [Snatches away his pestle. 
 Shall try what temper, sir, your niortar's of; 
 With that he stood upright in his stirrups, 
 And gave the knight of the calves-skin such a knock, 
 That he forsook his horse, and down he fell. 
 And then he leaped upon him, and plucking off his helmets — - 
 
 Hum. Nay, an' my noble knight be down so soon, 
 
 Though I can scarcely go, I needs must run 
 
 [£';nV HuMPHRE;i- a«^ Ralph. . 
 
 Wife. Run, Ralph ; run, Ralph ; run for thy life, boy ;. Jasper, 
 comes, Jasper comes ! ' 
 
 J asp. Come, Luce, we must have other arms for you. 
 Humphrey and Golden Pestle, both adieu. [Exeunt. 
 
 Wife. Sure the devil, God bless us, is in this springald ; why, 
 George, didst ever see such a fit;e-drake ? I am atraid my boy's' 
 miscarried ; if he be, though he were Master Meriry-thought's 
 son a thousand times, if there be any law in England, I'll make 
 some of them smart for't. 
 
 . at. No, no, I have found out the matter, sweetheart, Jasper 
 is enchanted as sure as we are here, he is enchanted ; he could 
 no more have stood in Ralph's hands than I can stand in my 
 Lord Mayor's ; I'll have a fing to discover all encjiantments, 
 and Ralph shall beat him yet. Be no more vexed, for it shall 
 be so. 
 
 Enter V.ki.vn, Squire, Dwarf, Mistress, Merry-thought, 
 and Michael. 
 
 Wife. Oh, husband, here's Ralph a:gain ; stay, Ralph, let me 
 speak with thee ; hpw dost thou, .Ralph ? Art thou not shrewdly' 
 hurt ? The foul great lunges laid unmercifully on thee ! There's 
 some sugar-candy for thee ; proceed, thou shalt have another 
 bout with him. , " 
 
 at. If Ralph had him at the fencing-school, if he did not 
 make a puppy of him, and drive him up and down the school,, 
 he should ne'er come in my shop more. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Truly, Master Knight of the Burning Pestle, I atn 
 weary. 
 
 Mich. Indeed la mother, and I'm very hungry. 
 
 Ralph. Take comfort, gentle dame, and your fair squire. 
 For in this desert there must needs be placed 
 Many strong castles, held by courteous knights, 
 And till I bring you safe to one of those 
 I swear by this my order ne'er to leave you. 
 
SCENE i.l THE BURNING PESTLE. 39 
 
 Wife. Well said, Ralph : George, Ralph was ever comfortable, 
 was he not ? 
 
 Cit. Yes, duck. 
 
 Wife. I shall iie'er forget him. When we had lost our child, 
 you know it was strayed almost alone to Puddle Wharf, and the 
 criers were abroad for it, and there it had drowned itself but for 
 it scul-ler, Ralph was the most comfortablest to me : " Peace 
 mistress," says he, " let it go, I'll get you another as good." Uid 
 he not, George ? Did he not say so ? 
 
 Cit. Ves indeed did he, mouse. 
 
 Dwarf. I would we had a mess of pottage and a pot of drink, 
 squire, and were going to bed. 
 
 Squire. Why, we are at Waltham town's end, and that's the 
 Bell Inn. 
 
 Dnvarf. Take courage, yaliant knight, damsel, and squire, 
 I have 'discovered, not a stone's cast off, 
 An ancient castle held by the old knight 
 Of the most holy order of the Bell, 
 Who gives to all knights errant entertain ; 
 .There plenty is of food, and all prepar'd 
 By the white hands of his own lady dear. 
 Me hath three squiires' that welcome all his guests : 
 The first, high Chamberlino, who will see 
 Our beds prepared, and bring us snowy sheets ; 
 The second hight Tapstero, who will see 
 Our pots full fiUdd, and no froth therein ; 
 The third, a gentle squire Ostlero. hight. 
 Who will our palfries slick with wisps of straw, 
 And in the manger put them oats enough. 
 And never grease their teeth with candle-snuff. 
 
 Wife. That same dwarfs a pretty boy, but the squire's a 
 grout-nold. 
 
 Ralph. Knock at the gates, my squire, with stately lance. 
 
 Enter Tapster. 
 
 Tap. Who's there, you're welcome, gentlemen ; will you see a 
 room .'■ 
 
 Dwarf BiighX. courteous and, valiant Knight of the Burning 
 Pestlfe, this is the squire Tapstero. 
 
 Ralph. Fair squire Tapstero, I a wandering knight, 
 Hight of the Burning Pestle, in the quest 
 Of this fair lady's casket and wrought purse, 
 Losing myself in this vast wilderness. 
 Am to this castle well by fortune brought. 
 Where hea,ring of the goodly entertain 
 Your knight of holy oi-der of the Bell, 
 
40 THE KNIGHT OF [ACT II. 
 
 Gives to all damsels, and all errant knights, 
 I tliought to 'knock, and now am bold to enter. 
 
 Tapst. An't please you see a chamber, you are very welcome. 
 ' ' , . [Exeunt- 
 
 Wife. George, I would have something done, ahd I cannot' 
 tell what it is. 
 
 at. What is it, Nell ? , 
 , Wife. Why, George, shall Ralph beat nobody again ? Prithee, 
 sweethea:rt, let him. 
 
 at.. So he shall, Nell, and if I join with him, we'll knock them 
 all. 
 
 Enter Humphrey ^Wif Merchant. 
 
 Wife. O George, here's Master, Humphrey again now, that 
 lost Mistress Luce, and Mistress Luce's father. Master 
 Hu,mphrey will do somebody's errand I warrant him. 
 
 Hum. Father, it's true in arms I ne'er shall clasp her. 
 For she is stol'n away by your man Jasper.- 
 
 Wife. I thought he would tell him. 
 
 Mer. Unhappy that I am to lose my child : 
 Now I begin to think on Jasper's words. 
 Who, oft hath urg'd to me thy foolishness ; 
 Why didst thou let her go ? thou lov'st her not. 
 That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her. 
 
 Hum. Father, forgive me, I shall tell you true, 
 Look on my shoulders, they are black and blue, 
 Whilst to and fro fair Luce and I were winding, 
 He came and basted me with a hedge binding. 
 
 Mer. Get men and horses straight, we will be there 
 Within this hour ; you know the place again .'' 
 
 Hum. I know the place where he my loins did swaddle, 
 I'll get six horses, and to each a saddle. 
 , Mer. Mean time I will go talk with Jasper's father. [Exfewtt. 
 
 Wife. George, what wilt thou lay with me now, that Master. 
 Humphrey has not Mistress Luce yet ; speak, George, what wilt 
 thou lay with me ? 
 
 at No, Nell, I warrant thee, Jasper is at Puckeridge with 
 her by this. , ■ •' 
 
 f^z/^.- Nay, George, you must consider Mistress Luce's fe,et 
 are tender, and besides, 'tis dark, and I promise you truly^ I do 
 not see how he should get out ofiWaltham Forest with her 
 yet. 
 
 Cit. Nay, honey, what wilt thou lay with- me, that Ralph has 
 her rioti yet ? 
 
 Wife. I will not lay against Ralph, honny, because I have 
 not spoken with him : but look, George, peace, here comes the , 
 ,, merry old gentleman again. . 
 
SCENE I.] THE. BURNING PESTLE. 41 
 
 Enter Old Merry-thought. 
 
 Old Mer. " When it was grown to dark midnight, 
 And all were fast asleep, 
 In came Margaret's grimly ghost, 
 And stood at William's feet." 
 I have money, and meat, and drink beforehand, till to-mor- 
 row at noon, why should J be sad ? Methinks I have half a 
 dozen jovial spirits within me, " I am three merry men, ^nd three 
 merry, men." To what end should any man be sad in this world ? 
 Give me a man that when he goes to hanging cries " Troul the 
 black bowl to me ; " and a woman that will sing a catch in her 
 travail. I have seen a man come by my door with, a serious 
 face, in a black cloak, without a hatband, carrying his head as 
 if he look'd for pins in the street. I have look'd out of my 
 window half a year after, and have spied that man's head upon 
 London Bridge. 'Tis vile! Never trust a tailor that does not 
 sing at his work, his mind is of nothing but filching. 
 . Wife. Mark this, George, 'tis worth noting : Godfrey, my 
 tailor, you know, never sings, andhe.had fourteen yards to make 
 this gowri : and I'll be sworn, Mistress Penistone, the draper's 
 vHfe, had one made with twelve. 
 
 Old Mer. " 'Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood. 
 
 More than wine, or sleep, or food. 
 
 Let each man kbep his heart at ease, 
 
 No man dies of that disease ! 
 
 "He that would his body keep 
 
 From diseases, must not weep. 
 
 But whoever laughs and sings, 
 
 Never he his body, brings 
 
 Into fevers, gouts, or rhumes. 
 
 Or lingringly his lungs consumes ; 
 
 Or meets with achds in the bone. 
 
 Or catarrhs, or griping stone : 
 
 But contented lives by aye. 
 
 The more he laughs, the more he may." 
 Wife. Look, George. How say'st thou by this, George ? Is't 
 not a fine old man ? Now God's blessing a thy sw^et lips. 
 When wilt thou be so merry, George? Faith, thou art the 
 frowningst little thing, when thou art angry, in a country. 
 
 Enter Merchant, 
 
 at. Peace, coney ; thou shalt see him took down too, 1 
 warrant thee. -Heire's Luce's father come now. 
 Old Mer. "As you came from Walsingham, 
 From the Holy Land, 
 
42 THE KNIGHT OF [act II ; 
 
 There, met you not with my true love 
 By the way as you came ? ' 
 Merck. Oh, Master Merry-thought ! my daughter's gone ! " 
 This mirth becomes you not, my daughter's gone ! 
 Old Mer. " Why an' if she be, what care I ? 
 Or let her Come, or go, or tarry." 
 Merck. Mock hot my misery, it is your son 
 (Whom I have made my own, when all forsook him), 
 Has stol'n my only joy, my child, away. 
 
 Old Mer. " He set her on a milk-white steed, 
 And himself upon a gray. 
 He never turned his face again, 
 But he bore her quite away." 
 Merck. Unworthy of the kindness I have shown 
 To thee and thine ; too late, I well perceive 
 Thou art consenting to my daughter's loss. 
 
 Old Mer. Your daughter t what a stir's here wi' y'r da.ughter ? 
 Let her go, think no more on her, but siiig loud. If poth my 
 sons were on the gallows I would sing, 
 
 " Down, down, down : they fall 
 ' , Down, and arise they never shall." 
 
 Merck. Oh, might but I behold her once again, 
 And she once more embrace her aged sire. 
 
 Old Mer, Fie, how scurvily this goes : 
 " And she once more embrace her aged sire ? " , 
 
 You'll make a dog on her, will ye ; she cares much for her aged 
 sire, I ■yvarrant you. 
 
 " She cares not for her daddy, nor 
 She cares not for her mammy, 
 For she is, she is, she is my 
 Lord of Low-gaves lassie." 
 Merck. For this thy scorn I will pursue 
 That son of thine to death. 
 
 Old Merck. Do, and when you ha' killed him, 
 " Give him flowers enow, Palmer, give him flowers enow, 
 Give him red and white, blue, green, and yellow." 
 Merck. I'll fetch my daughter. 
 
 Old Mer. I'll hear no more o' your daughter, it spoils m^ 
 mirth. 
 Merck. I say I'll fetch my daughter. 
 Old Mer. ''Was never man for lady's sake,- down, down; 
 Tormented as I, Sir Guy 1 de derry down. 
 For Lucy's sake, that lady bright, down, down. 
 As ever man beheld with eye .' de derry down." 
 Merck. I'll be revenged, by heaven ! , \Exeunt\ 
 
SCENE I.] THE' BURNING PESTLE. 43 
 
 Finis Actus Secundi. [Music. 
 
 Wife. How dost thou like this, George ? 
 
 Czy. Why this is well, dovey ; but if Ralph were hot once, 
 thou shouldst see more. ' 
 
 Wife. The fiddlers go again, husband. 
 
 Cit. Ay,- Nell, but this is scurvy inusic ; I gave the youftg 
 , gallows money, and I think he has not got me the waits of 
 Southwark. If I hear 'em not anon, I'll twing him by the ears. 
 You musicians, play Baloo. , 
 
 Wife. No, good George, let's have Lachrymag. 
 
 Cit. Why this is it, bird. 
 
 Wife. Is't? All the better, Geqrge ; now, sweet Iamb, what 
 story is that painted upon the cloth? the Confutation of Saint 
 Paul ? 
 
 Cit. No, lamb, that's Ralph and Lucrece. 
 
 Wife. Ralph and Lucrece ? Which Ralph ? our Ralph ? 
 
 Cit. No, mouse, that was a Tartarian. 
 
 Wife. A Tartarian?, well, I would the fiddlers had done, that 
 we might see our Ralph again. ' 
 
 ACT III.— Scene I. 
 Enter JASPER and LuCE. 
 
 'fa,sp. Come, my dear dear, though we have lost our way 
 We have not lost olarselves. Are you not weary 
 With this night's wand'ring, broken from your rest ? 
 And frighted with the terror that attends 
 The darkness of this wild unpeopled place? 
 
 Luce, No, my best friend, I cannot either fear 
 Or entertain a weary thought, whilst you 
 (The' end of all my full desires) stand by me. 
 Let'them that lose their hopes, and live to languish 
 'Aitiongst the number of forsaken lovers. 
 Tell the long weary steps, and number Timp, 
 Start at a shadow, and shrink up their blood, 
 ■Whilst I (possessed with all content and quiet) ' 
 Thus take my pretty love, and thus embrace him. 
 
 Jasp. You've caught me, Luce, so fast, that whilst I live 
 I shall become your faithful prisoner, 
 And wear these chains for ever. Come, sit down. 
 And rest your body, too too delicate 
 For these disturbances ; so, will you sleep ? 
 Come, do not be more, able than you are, 
 I know you are not skilful in these watches. 
 For women are no soldiers ; be not nice. 
 But take it, sleep, I say. 
 
44 THE KNIGHT OF [ACT III, 
 
 Luce. _ I cannot sleep, 
 
 Indeed I cannot, friendi 
 
 J asp. Why then we'll sing, 
 
 And try how that will work upon our senses. 
 
 Luce. I'll sing, or say, or anything but sleep. 
 
 J asp. Come, little mermaid, rob me of my heart 
 With that enchanting voice. 
 
 Luce. You mock me, Jasper. 
 
 Song, 
 
 Jasp. Tell me, dearest, what is love? 
 Luce. 'Tis.a lightning from above, , 
 'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire, 
 
 'Tis a boy they call Desire. ' ' 
 
 'Tis a smile 
 Doth beguile 
 Jasp. The poor hearts of men that prove. 
 
 Tell me more, are women true ? 
 iMce. Some love change, and so do you. 
 Jasp. Are they fair, and never kind ? 
 Luce. Yes, when men turn with the wind. 
 ' Jasp. Are they froward ? 
 Luce. Ever toward 
 
 Those that love, to love anew. 
 
 Jasp. Dissemble it no more, I see the god 
 Of heavy sleep, lays on his heavy mace 
 Upon your eyelids. 
 
 Luce. I am very heavy. 
 
 Jasp. Sleep, sleep, and quidt rest crown thy s)veet thoughts : 
 Keep from her fair blood all distempers, startings, 
 Horroi's and fearful shapes : let all her dreams 
 Be joys and chaste delights, embraces, wishes. 
 And such new pleasures as the ravish'd soul 
 Gives to the senses. So, my charms have took. 
 Keep her, ye Powers Divine, whilst I contemplate 
 Upon the wealth and beauty of her mind. 
 She's only fair,' and constant, only kind. 
 And only to thee, Jaspen O my joys ! 
 Whither will you transport me ? let hot fulness 
 Of my poor buried hopes come up together, 
 And over-charge my spirits ; I am weak. 
 Some say (however ill) the sea and women 
 Are govern'd by the moon, both ebb and flow, 
 Both full of changes : yet to them that know, 
 And truly judge, these but opinions are. 
 And heresies to bring on pleasing war 
 Between our tempers, that without these were ' ' 
 
 Both void of after-love, and present fear; 
 
Which are the best of Cupid. O thou child ! 
 
 Qted frorr) despair, I dare not entertain thee, . 
 
 Having a love without the faults of women, 
 
 \nd greater in her perfect goods tha.n men ; 
 
 Which to make good, and please- myself the stronger, 
 
 Though certainly I'm certain of her love, 
 
 ['11 try her, that the world and memory 
 
 May sing- to after-times her constancy. 
 
 Luce, Luce, awake ! 
 
 Luce. Why do you fright me, friend, 
 
 With those distempered looks ? what makes your sword 
 Drawn in your hand ? who hath offended you ? 
 [ prithee, Jasper, sleep, thou'rt wild with waitching. 
 
 y_asp. Come, make your way to Heav'n, and bid the world. 
 With all the villanies that stick upon it, 
 Farewell ; you're for another life. 
 
 Luce. Oh, Jasper, 
 
 Hovy have my tender years committed evil, 
 Especially against the man I love, 
 rhiis to be cropt untimely ? , 
 
 yasp. Foolish girl, 
 
 ^anst thou imagine I could love his daughter 
 That flung me from my fortune intp nothing ? 
 Discharged me his service, shut the doors 
 [Jpon my poverty, and scorn'd my prayers, 
 lending me, like a boat without a mast. 
 To sink or swim ? Come, by this hand you die, 
 [ must have life and blood, to satisfy 
 iTour father's wrongs. 
 
 IVz/e. Away, George, away, rai_se the watch at , Ludgate, and 
 bring a mittimus from the justice for this desperate villain. 
 Now, I charge ypUj gentlemen, see the King's^ peace kept. O 
 iiy heart, what a varlet's this, to cffer manslaugh,ter upon the 
 larmless gentlewofnan ? 
 
 C?'/. 1 warrant thee, sweetheart, we'll have him hampered. 
 
 Lme. Oh, Jasper ! be not cruel, 
 [f thou wilt kill me, sniile, and do it quickly, 
 'Vnd let not many deaths appear before me. 
 [ am a woman rnade of fear and love, 
 \ weal^, weak woman, kill not with thy eyes, 
 They shoot me through and through. Strike, I am ready, 
 \nd dying, still I love thee. 
 
 Enter Merchant, Humphrey, and his Men. 
 
 Merck. Where abouts ? ' 
 
 J'asp. No more of this, no'iv to myself again. , 
 
 jHum. There, there he stands with sword, like martial knight, 
 
46 THE KNIGHT OF [act 111.- ■ 
 
 Drawn in his hand, therefore beware the fight 
 You that are wise ; for were I good Sir Bevis, 
 J would not stay his coming, by your leaves. 
 
 Merck. Sirrah, restore my daughter. 
 
 Jasp. Sirrah, no. 
 , Merck. Upon him then. 
 
 Wife. So, down with him, down with him, down with him ! , 
 Cut him i'the leg, boys, cut him i'the leg ! ■ 
 
 Merck: Come your -^vays, minion, ril provide a cage for you, 
 you're grown so tame. Horse her away.' ' 
 
 Hum. Truly I am glad your forces have the day. ■ {Exeunt. 
 
 Manet Jasper. 
 
 "^asp. They're gone, and I am hurt ; my love is lost, 
 Never to get again. Oh, me unhappy ! 
 
 Bleed, bleed and die I cannot ; oh, my folly ! 
 
 Thou hast betrayed me ; hope, where art thou fled ? 
 
 Tell me, if thou be'st anywhere remaining. 
 
 Shall I but see my love again .-' Oh, no ! 
 
 She will not deign to look upon her butcher. 
 
 Nor is it fit she should ; yet I must venture. 
 
 Oh chance, or fortune, or whate'er thou art 
 
 That men adore for powerful, hear my cry. 
 
 And let me loving live, or losing die. {Exit. 
 
 Wife. Is he gone, Qeorge ? 
 
 at. Ay, coney. 
 
 Wife. Marry, and let him go, sweetheart, by , the faith a my 
 body, a has put me into such a fright, that I tremble (as they 
 say) as 'twere an aspin leaf. Look a my little finger, George, 
 how it shakes : now, in truth, every member of my body is the 
 worse for't. 
 
 at. Come, hug in mine arms, sweet mouse, he shall not 
 fright thee any more ; alas, mine own dear heart, how it quivers. ,., 
 
 Enter Mistress Merry-thought,,Ralph, Michael, 'SqItire, 
 , Dwarf, Host, and a Tapster. 
 
 Wife. O Ralph, how dost thou, Ralph ? How hast thou slept 
 to-night ? Has the knight used thee well ? 
 
 at. Peace, Nell, let Ralph alone. 
 
 Tap. Master, the reckoning is not paid. 
 
 Rdlpk. Right courteous Knight, who for the orders' sake 
 Which thou hast ta'en, hang'st out the holy Bell, 
 As I this flaming pestle bear about. 
 We render thanks to your puissant self, 
 Your beauteous lady, and your gentle squires, 
 For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs. 
 Stiffened with hard achievements in wild desert. 
 
Tap. Sir, there is twelve shillings to pay. 
 
 Ralph. Thoii merry squire Tapstero, thanks to thee 
 For comforting our souls with double jug, 
 Aind if adventurous fortune prick thee forth, 
 rhou jovial squire, to follow feats of arms, 
 lake heed thou tender ev'ry lady's cause, 
 Ev'ry true knight, and ev'ry damsel fair, 
 But spill the blood of treacherous Saracens, 
 i\nd false pnchanters, that with magic' spells 
 Have done to death full many a noble knight. 
 
 Host. Thou valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, give ear td 
 arte : there is twelve shillings to pay, and as I am a true knighl;,' 
 [ will, not bate a penny. 
 
 Wife. George, I prithee tell me, must Ralph pay twelve 
 shillings now ? 
 
 at. No, Nell, no, nothing ; but the old knight is merry with 
 Ralph. 
 
 Wife. O, is't nothing else ? Ralph will be as merry as he. 
 
 Ralph. Sir Knight,, this piirth of yours becomes you well. 
 But to requite this liberal courtesy, 
 [f any of your squires will follow arms, 
 He shall receive from my heroic hand 
 K knighthood, by the virtue of this pestle. 
 
 ffost. Fair knight, I thank you for your noble offer ; there- 
 fore, gentle Icnight, twelve shillings you must pay; or I must 
 :ap you. 
 
 Wife. Look, George, did not I tell thee as much ? The 
 inight of the Bell is in earnest. Ralph shall not be beholding ' 
 ;o him ; give him his money, George, and let him go sniek-up. 
 
 at. Cap Ralph ? No ; hold your hand, Sir Knight of the Bell, 
 ihere's your money. Have you anything to say to Ralph now ? 
 3a,p Ralph ? , 
 
 ' Wife. I would you should know it, Ralph has friends that 
 vill hot suffer him to be capt for ten times so much, and ten 
 imes to the end of that. Now take thy course, Ralph. 
 1 Mist. Mer. Come, Michael, thou and I will go home to thy 
 ather, he hath enough left to keep us a day or two, and we'll set 
 ellows abroad to cry our purse and casket. Shall wq, Michael ? 
 
 Mich. Ay, I pray mother, in truth my feet are full of chil- 
 alains with travelling. 
 
 Wife. Faith' and those ^chilblains are a foul trouble. Mistress 
 Merry-thought, when your youth comes home let him rub all the 
 ioles of his feet and his heels and his ankles with a mouse-skin ; 
 ->x if none of you can catch a mouse, when he goes to bed let 
 lim roll his feet in the warm embers, and I warrant yoi^ he shall 
 De well, and you may make him put his fingers between his toes 
 md smell to them, it's very sovereign for his head if he be 
 ;ostive. 
 
48'' THE k'NIGH'T OF ' [act ni. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Master Knight of the Burning Pestle, my son 
 Michael and I bid you farewell ; I thank your worship heartily/ 
 for your kindness. ■ .' ■ 
 
 Ralph. -Farewell, fair lady, and your tender squire. ' 
 If pricking through these deserts;.! do hear - 
 Of any trait'rous knight, who, through his guile ' 
 
 iHath light upon your casket and your purse, 
 I will despoil him of them and restore them. 
 
 Mist.^ Mer... I thank your worship. \Exit with MiCHAEIi. 
 
 Ralph. Dwarf, bear my shield ; squire, elevate my lance, 
 And now farewell, you knight of holy Bell. 
 
 at. Ay, ay, Ralph,' all is paid. 
 
 Ralph. But yet before I go, speak, worthy knight, - 
 If aught you do of sad adventifires know, 
 Where errant knight may through his prowess win 
 Eternal fame, and free some gentle souls 
 From endless bonds of steel and lingring pain. 
 
 Host. Sirrah, go to Nick the Barber, and bid him prepare 
 himself, as I told you before, quickly. 
 
 Tap. I am gone, sir. \Exit TAPSTER. ' 
 
 Host. Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none ' , 
 
 But the great venture, where full many a knight 
 Hath tried his prowess, and come off with shame, ■■" 
 
 And where I would not have you lose your life. 
 Against no man, but furious fiend of hell. 
 
 Ralph. Speak on,' Sir Knight, tell what he is, and where : > 
 For here I vowfupon my blazing badge, - ■ 
 
 Never to lose'a day in quietness ; 
 But bread and water will I only eat. 
 And the green herb and rock shall be my couch. 
 Till I have quell'd that man, or beastj or fiend, 
 That works such damage to all errant knights. 
 
 Host. Not far from hence, near to a craggy cliff 
 At the north end of this distressed town. 
 There doth stand a lowly house 
 Ruggedly builded, and in it a cave. 
 In which an ugly giant now doth dwell, 
 YclepiJd Barbaroso : in his hand 
 He shakes, a naked lance of purest steel. 
 With isleeves turned up, and he before him wears 
 A motley garment, to preserve his clothes , / 
 
 From blood of those knights which he massacres. 
 And ladies gent : without his door doth hang 
 A copper bason, on a prickant spear ; 
 At which, no sooner gentle knights can knock. 
 But the shrill sound fierce Barbaroso hears, 
 And rushing forth, brings in the errant knight, 
 And sets him down in an enchanted chair i 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. 49 
 
 Then with an engine, which he hath prepar'd 
 With forty teeth, he claws his courtly crown, 
 ■ Next makes him wink,, and underneath his chin 
 • He plants a brazen piece of mighty bore, 
 And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks, 
 iWhilst with his fingers, and an instrument 
 With which he snaps his hair off, he doth fill 
 jThe wretch's ears with a most hideous noise. 
 Thus every knight adventurer he doth trim, 
 JAnd now no creature dares encounter him. 
 j R-alfih. In Gpd's name, I will fight with him, kind sir. 
 ,'Go but before me to this dismal cave 
 I Where this huge giant Barbaroso dwells, 
 'And by' that virtue that brave Rosiclere, 
 \ That wicked brood of ugly giants slew, 
 ' Arid falmerin Frannarco overthrew : 
 'I doubt not but to curb this traitor foul. 
 Arid to the devil send his gujlty soul. 
 
 Host. Brave sprighted knight, thus far 1 will perform 
 This your request, I'll bring you Within sight 
 Qf this most loathsome place, inhabited 
 By a more loathsome man : but dare iiot stay, 
 For his main force swoops all he sees away. 
 Ralph. Saint Geofge ! set on, before march scpire and page. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 ■ Wife. _George, dost think Ralph will confound the giant ? 
 Cit. I hold my cap to a farthing he does. Why. Nell, I saw 
 hirri \Yrestle with the great Dutchman, and hurl him. 
 
 Wife. Faith and that Dutchman was a goodly man, if all things 
 were answerable to his bigness. And yet they say there was a 
 Scottishman higher than he, and that liiey two, on a night met, 
 and saw one another for nothing. 
 
 at. Nay, by your leave, Nell, Ninivie was better. 
 Wife. Ninivie, O that was the story of Joan and the 
 Wall, was it not, George 1 
 Cit. Yes. lamb. ' 
 
 Enter Mistress Merry-thought. 
 
 Wife. Look, George, here comes Mistress Merry-thought 
 again, and I would have Ralph come and fight with the giant. 
 I tell you true, I long to see^t. 
 
 Cit. Good Mistress Merry-thought, be gone, I pray you for 
 my sake ; I pray you forbear a little, you shall have audiehce 
 presently : I have a little business. 
 
eo THE KNIGHT OF [act iit. 
 
 Wife. Mistress Merry-thought, if it please' you to refrain your' 
 passion a little, till Ralph ha,ve dispatched the giant out' of the 
 Way, We shall think ourselves much bound ' to thank you. I 
 thank you, good Mistress Merry-thought. 
 
 \ExU Mistress Merry-thought. , 
 
 Enter a BOY. 
 
 at. Boy, come hither, send away RalpTi and this master 
 giant quickly. 
 
 Boy. In good faith, sir, we pannot ; you'll utterly spoil our 
 play, and malce it to be hissed, and it cost money ; you will not ■ 
 suffer us to, go on with our plots. I pray, gentlemen, rule him. 
 
 at. Let him come now aiid dispatch this, and I'll trouble you 
 no more. - , 
 
 Boy. Will you give me your hand of that ? 
 
 Wife. Give him thy hand, George, do, and I'll kiss him ; I 
 Warrant thee the youth means plainly. 
 
 Boy. I'll send him to you presently. {Exit BOY. 
 
 Wife. I thank you, little youth ; faith the child hath a sweet 
 breath, George, but I think it be troubled with the worms ; 
 Carduus Benedictus and mare's milk were the only thing in the 
 world for it. Oh, Ralph's here, George ! God send thee good 
 luck, Ralph ! 
 
 'Enter Ralph, Host, Squire and Dwarf, 
 
 ' Host. Puissant knight, yonder his mansion is, 
 
 Lo, where the spear and copper bason are, 
 
 Behpld the string on which hangs many a tooth. 
 
 Drawn from the gentle jaw of wandering knights ; 
 
 I dare not stay to sound, he will appear. ^ \jExit HOST. 
 
 Ralph, O faint not, heart : Susan, my lady dear, 
 Jhe cobbler's maid in Milk, Street, for whose sake 
 I take these arms, O let the thought of thee 
 Carry thy knight through all adventurous deed, 
 And in the honour of thy beauteous self. 
 May I destroy this monster Barbaroso. ' 
 
 Knock, squire, upon the bason till it break 
 With- the shrill strokes, or till the gian,t speak. 
 
 Enter Barbaroso. 
 
 Wife. O George, the giant, the giant ! Now, Ralph, for thy 
 life! . 
 
 Bar. What fond unknowing wight is this, that dares 
 So rudely knock at Barbaroso's cell, 
 Where no man comes, but leaves his fleece behind ? 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING. PESTLE. , 51 
 
 Ralph. I, traitorous caitiff, who atft sent bv fate 
 
 To punish all the sad enormities 
 
 Thou hast committed against ladies gent, 
 ! And errant knights, traitor to God and men. 
 
 Prepare thyself, this is the dismal hour 
 1 Appointed for thee to give strict account 
 
 Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies. 
 i Bar. Foolhardy knight, full soon thou shalt aby 
 
 This fond reproach, thy body will I bang, 
 
 ■ \^He takes down his -pole. 
 
 And lo, upon that string thy teetli shall hang ; ' 
 J Prepare thyself, for dead soon shalt thou be. 
 j \ Ralph. Saint George for me ! \They fight. 
 
 ;'• Bar. Gargantua for me ! 
 
 ■ Wife. To him, Ralph, to him : hold up the giant, set out thy 
 leg, before, Ralph ! 
 
 Cit. Falsify a blow, Ralph, falsify a blow ; the giant lies open 
 ' oh the left side. 
 
 Wife. Bear't off, 'bear't off still ; there, boy. Oh, Ralph's 
 almost down, Ralph's almost down ! \ 
 
 Ralph. Susan, inspire me, now;haye up again. 
 
 ■ Wife. Up, up, up, up, up, so, Ralph ; down with him, down 
 with him, Ralph ! 
 
 Cit. Fetch him over the hip, boy. 
 
 Wife. There, boy; kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, Ralpli ! 
 
 Cit. No~ Ralph, get all out of him first. 
 
 Ralph. Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end 
 i Thy treachery hath brought thee ; the just gods. 
 Who never prosper those that do despise them. 
 For all the villanies which thou hast done 
 To knights and ladies, now have paid thee home 
 By my stiff arm, a knight adventurous. 
 But say, vile wretch, before I send thy soul 
 To sad Avernus, whither it must go. 
 What captivesvhold'st thou in thy sable cave? 
 
 Bar. Go in and free them all, thou hast the day. 
 
 Ralph. Go, squire and dwarf, search in this dreadful cave, 
 And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds. 
 
 [Exeunt SQUIRE and Dwarf . 
 Bar. I crave for mercy as thou art a knight. 
 And scorn'st to spill the blood of those that beg. 
 
 Ralph, Thou showest no mercy, nor shalt thou have any ; 
 Prepare thyself, for thou shalt surely die. 
 
 Enter Squire, leading one winking, with a bason 
 '■' ~ under his chin. 
 
 Squire. Behold, brave knight, here is one prisoner, 
 Whom this wild man hath used as you see 
 
52, ' THE KNIGHT OF [act iii. 
 
 Wife. This is the wisest word I hear the squire speak. 
 
 Ralph. Speak what thou art, and how thou hast beeo us'd, ■ ;^ 
 That I may give him condign punishment. 
 
 1st Knight. I am a kijight that took my journey post 
 Northward from London, and in co.urteous wise, 
 This giant train'd'me to his loathsome den, 
 Under pretence of killing of the itch, 
 And all my body with a powder strew'd. 
 That smarts and stings ; and cut away my beard, 
 And my curl'd locks wherein were ribands ty'd, 
 And with a water washt my tender eyes , 
 (Whilst up and down about me still he skipt). 
 Whose virtue is, that till my eyes be wip'd 
 With a dry cloth, for this rhy foul disgrace, . , 
 
 I shall not dare to look a dog;i' th' face. 
 
 Wife. Alas, poor knight. Relieve him, Ralph ; relieve poor 
 knights whilst you live. 
 
 Ralph. My trusty squire, convey him to the town, 
 Wherfe he may find relief ; adieu, fair knight. \_Exit KNIGHT. 
 
 Enter Dwarf, leading otie with a patch over his nose. • 
 
 Dwarf. Puissant Knight of the Burning Pestle hight, *' 
 See here another wretch, whom this foul beast 
 Ha,th scotch'd and scor'd in this inhuman wise. 
 
 Ralph. Speak me thy name, and, eke thy place of birth. 
 And what hath been thy usage in this cave. 
 
 ind Knight. I am a knight,- Sir Partle is my -name, 
 And by my birth I am a Londoner, 
 ' Free by my copy, but my ancestors 
 Were, Frenchriien all ; and riding hard this way. 
 Upon a trotting horse, my bones did ache, 
 And I, faint knight, to ease my weary limbs, 
 Light at this cave, when straight this furious fiend, ' ', 
 
 With sharpest instrument of purest steel, 
 Did cut the gristle of my nose away. 
 
 And in the place this i'elvet plaster stands. -/ 
 
 Relieve me, gentle knight, out of his hands. 
 
 Wife. Good Ralph, relieye Sir Partle, and send him away, , 
 for in truth his breath stinks. 
 
 Ralph. Convey him straight after the other^ knigljt. Sir" 
 Partle, fare you well. ■ , 
 
 ^rd Knight. Kind sir, good night. {Exit. 
 
 [Cries within. 
 
 Man. Deliver us ! i ' 
 
 Wo7n. DeHver us ! 
 
 Wife. Hark, George, what a woful cry there is. I think some 
 one is ill there. 
 
CENEi} THE BURNING PESTLE. 53 
 
 Man. Deliver iis ! 
 
 Worn. Deliver us ! ' 
 
 Ralph. What ghastly noise is this ? Speak, Barbaroso, 
 )r by this blazing steel thy head goes off. 
 
 Bar. Prisoners of mine, vfhom I in diet keep, 
 end lower down into the cave, 
 ind in a tub that's heated smoking hot, 
 'here may they find fhem, and deliver them. 
 
 Ralph. Run, squire and dwarf,, deliver them with speed. 
 
 {Exeunt SQUIRE and Dwarf. 
 
 Wife: But will not Ralph kill this giant 'i Surely I am afraid if 
 e let him go he will do as much hurt as ever he did. 
 
 at. Not so, mouse, neither, if he could convert him. 
 
 Wife. Ay, George, if he could convert him; but a giant' is not 
 3 soon converted as one of, us ordinary people. There's a 
 retty tale of a witch, that had, the devil's mark about her, God 
 less us, that had a giant to her son, that was call'd Lob-lie-by- 
 le-fire. Didst never hear it, George .-' 
 
 'nter SQUIRE leading a man with a glass oflotio7i in his hand, 
 md the Dwar_f leading a woman, with diet bread and drink. 
 
 at. Peace, Nell, here come the prisoners. 
 Dwarf Here be these pined wretches, manful knight, 
 hat for these six %veeks have not seen a, wight. 
 Ralph. Deliver What you are, and how you came 
 o this sad cave, and what your usage was ? 
 Ma7i. I am an errant knight that followed arms, 
 ^ith spear and shield, and in my tender years , 
 strucken was \yith Cupid's fiery shaft,' 
 nd fell in love with this my lady dear, 
 nd stole her from her friends'in Turnball Street, 
 nd bore her up and down from town to town, 
 ''here we did eat and drink, and music hear ; 
 ill dt the length at this unhappy town 
 '^e did arrive, and coming" to this cave, 
 his beast us Caught, and put us in a tub, 
 ''here we this two months sweat, and should have done 
 tiother pionth if you liald not relieved us. 
 Worn. This bread and water hath our diet been, , 
 
 ogether with a rib cut from a neck 
 f burned mutton ; hard hath been our fare, 
 elease us from this ugly giant's snare. 
 Man. This hath been all the food we have receiv'd ; , 
 ut only twice a day, for novelty, 
 
 e gave a spoonful of this hearty broth [Pulls out a syringe. 
 each of us, through this same slender quill. 
 Ralph. From this infernal monster you shall go, 
 
54 , , THE KI^IGHT OF , [act -IIL 
 
 That useth knights and gentle ladies so. 
 
 Convey them hence. \Exeunf Man and Woman. 
 
 at. Mcus,e, I can tell thee, the gentlemen like Ralph. 
 
 Wife. Ay, George, 1 see it well enough. ' Gentlemen, I thank, ' 
 you all heartily for gracing my man Ralph, and I promise you.,, 
 you shall see him oftener. ,'.'■■ 
 
 Bar. Mercy, great knight, I do recant my ill, 
 And henceforth never gentle blood will spill. ■ i 
 
 Ralph. I give thee mei-cy, but yet thou shalt swear 
 Upon my burning pestle to perform 
 Thy promise utter'd. 
 
 Bar. I swear and kiss. 
 
 Ralph. Depart then, and amend. 
 Come, squire and dwarf, the sun grows towards his set, 
 And we have many more adventures yet. , • {Exeunt. 
 
 at. Now Ralph is in this humour, I know he would ha' beaten , 
 all the boys in the house, if they had been set on him. ^ 
 
 Wife. Ay, George, but it is well as it is. I warrant, you the ,\ 
 gentlemen do consider what it is tooverthrow a giant. But look, i ' 
 George, here comes Mistress Merry-thought, and her son . 
 Michael. Now you are welcome. Mistress Merry-thought'; now : 
 Ralph has done, you may go on. « 
 
 Enter MISTRESS MERRY-THOUGHT and Michael. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Mick, my boy. 
 
 Mick. Ay forsooth, mother. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Be merry, Mick, we are at home now, where I 
 warrant you, you shall find the house flung out of the windows. 
 Hark ! hey dogs, hey, this is the old world i'faith with my 
 husband. I'll get in among, them, I'll play them such lesson, 
 that they shall have little list to come scraping hither again. 
 Why, Master Merry-thought, husband, Charles Merry-thought !, 
 
 Old Mer. [within]. " If you will sing and dance and laugh, 
 And holloa, and laugh agaih ; , ^ 
 
 And then cry, there boys, there ; why then, 
 One, two, three, and four, 
 . We shall be merry within this hour." 
 
 Mist. Mer. Why, Charles, do you not know your own natural 
 wife ? I say, open the door, and turn me out those mangy com- 
 panions ; 'tis more than time that they were fellow like with 
 you. You are a gentleman, Charles, and an old man, and father 
 of two children ; and I myself, though I say it, by my mother's 
 side, niece to a worshipful gentleman, and a conductor ; he has 
 been three times in his Majesty's service at Chester, and is 
 now the fourth time, God bless him, and his pharge upon his 
 journey. , 
 
DNE 1.] THE BljRNiNG PESTLE. ' ' 55 , 
 
 lid Mer. " Go from my window, love, go ; 
 
 ' Go from tny window, my dear, 
 The wind and the rain will drive you back again, 
 You cannot be lodged here." 
 irk you, Mistress Merry-thought, you that walk upon ad- 
 itures,' and forsake your husband because he sings with never 
 jenny in his jiurse ; what, shall I. think myself the ,worse ? 
 ith no, I'll be merry. You come not here, here's none but 
 s of mettle, lives of a hundred years and upwards ; care never 
 mk their bloods, nor want made them warble, 
 , '' HeighTho, my heart is heavy." 
 
 Mist. Mer. Why, Master Merry-thought, what am I that you 
 )uld laugh me to scorn thus abruptly ?. Am I not your fellow- 
 leir, as we; may say, in all our miseries ? your comforter in 
 ilth and sickness ? Have I not brought you children .? Are 
 ;y not like you, Charles ? Look tipon thine own image, hard- 
 
 irted man ; and yet for all this ' 
 
 Old Mer. [within]. " Begone, begone, my juggy, my puggy, 
 
 Begone, my love, my dear ; 
 
 The weather is warm, 
 
 'Twill do thee no harm. 
 
 Thou canst not be lodged here." 
 merry, boys, some light music, and more wine. 
 Wife. He''s not in earnest, I hope, George, is he ? 
 Cit. What if he be, s\i'eetheart ? 
 
 Wife. Marry if he be, George, I'll make bold to tell him he's 
 iilgfant old man to use his wife so scurvily. 
 Zit. What, how does he use her, honey ? 
 Wife. Marry come up. Sir Sauce-box ; I think you'll take his 
 ■t, will you not ? Lord, how hot are you grown ; you are a 
 ; man, an' you had a fine dog, it becomes you sweetly. 
 7z/. Nay, prithee Nell, chide not; for as I am an honest 
 n, and a true Christian grocer, I do not like his doings. 
 Wife. I cry you mercy then, .George ; you know we are all 
 il, and full of infirmities. D'ye hear, Master Merry-thought, 
 y I crave a word with you ? 
 lid Mer. [within]. Strike up lively, lads. 
 Wife. I had not thought in truth, Master Merry-thought, 
 t a man of yoilr age alnd discretion, as I may say, being a 
 itleman, and therefore known by your gentle conditions, could 
 /e used so little respect to the weakness of his wife ; for your 
 e is, your own flesh, the staff of your age, your yoke-fellow, 
 h whose help 'you draw through the mire of this transitoly 
 
 rid. Nay, she is your own rib. And again 
 
 Old Mer. " I come not hither for thee to teach, 
 I have no pulpit for thee to preach. 
 As thou art a lady gay." 
 PFife. Marry with a vengeance-! I am heartily sorry for the 
 
56 THE KNIGHT OF , [act, ly. 
 
 poor gentlewoman ; but if I were thy wife, i'faith, gray'beard,- 
 i'faith 
 
 at. I prithee, sweet honeysuckle, be content. 
 
 Wife^. Give -me such words that am a gentlewoman born, 
 hang him, hoary rascal ! - Get me some drink, George, I am 
 almost molten with fretting. Now beshrew his knave's heart 
 for it. , , .,. ' 
 
 Old Mer. Play me a light lavalto. Come, be frolic, fill the 
 good fellows wine. > 
 
 Mist. Mer. Why, Master Merry-thought, are you disposed to 
 make me wait here. You'll open, I hope ; I'll fetch them that 
 shall open else. 
 
 Old Mer. Good woman, if you will sing, I'll give you some- 
 thing, if not 
 
 Song. 
 
 ' You are no love for me, Marget, 
 
 I am no love for you. ^ 
 Come aloft, boys, aloft. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Now a churl's fist in your teeth, sir. Come, 
 Mick, we'll not trouble him, a shall not ding us i' th' te'e|h with 
 his bread and his broth, that he shall not. Come,, boy, I'll 
 provide for thee, I warrant thee. We'll go to Master Venterwel^ 
 the merchant ; I'll get his letter to mine host of the Bell in 
 Waltham, there I'll place thee with the tapster ; will not that do 
 well for thee, 'Mick.' And let me alone for that old rascally 
 knave, your father ; I'll use him in his kind, I warrant ye. ; 
 
 Wife. Come, George, where's the beer ? 
 
 at. Here, love. 
 
 Wife. This old fumigating fellow will not out of my mind 
 yet. Gentlemen, PU begin to you all, I desire more of your 
 acquaintance, with all my heart. Fill the gentlemen some beer, 
 George. 
 
 ACT IV.— Scene I. 
 Boy danceth. 
 
 Wife. Look, George, the little boy's come again ; methinks he 
 looks something like the Prince of Orange, in his long stocking, 
 if he had a little harness about his neck. George, I will have 
 him dance Fading ; Fading is a fine jig, J'll assure you, gentlenienJ 
 B^gin, brother ; now a capers, sweetheart ; now a turn a th' toe, 
 and then tumble. Cannot you tumble, youth .? 
 
;ne I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. ' 57 
 
 3ojf. No, indeed, forsooth. 
 
 Vife. Nor eat fire ? 
 
 loy. Neither. 
 
 Vife. Why, then I thank you heartily ; there's two pence, to 
 
 r you points withal. 
 
 Enter Jasper ajid Boy. 
 
 fasp. There, boy, deliver this. But do it well. 
 St thou provided me four lusty fellows, 
 le to carry me ? And art thou perfect 
 all thy business ? 
 ^oy. Sir, you need not fear, 
 ave my lesson here, and cannot miss it : 
 3 men are ready for you, and what else 
 tains to this employment. 
 fasp. There, my boy, , 
 
 ie it, but buy no land. 
 ^oy. Faith, sir, 'twere rare 
 see so young a purchaser. I fly, 
 
 i on my wings carry your destiny. [Exit, 
 
 *hsp. Go, and be happy. Now my latest hope 
 .sake me not, but fling thy anchor out, 
 i let it hold. Stand fixt, thou rolling stone, 
 L I possess my dearest. Hearme,.all 
 
 1 Powers, that rule in men, celestial. [Exit. 
 
 Vife. Go thy ways, thou art as crooked a sprig as ever grew 
 ^ondon. I warrant him he'll come to some naughty end or 
 er ; for his looks say no less. Besides, his father fyouknow, 
 )rge) is none of the best ; you heard him take hie up like a 
 flirt, and sing bad songs upon me. But i'faith, if I live, 
 
 >rge 
 
 It. Let me alone, sweetheart, I ha-^e a trick in my head shall 
 
 je him in the Arches for one year, and make him sing Peccavi, 
 
 I 'leave him, and yet he shall never know who hurt him 
 
 her. 
 
 Vife. Do, my good George, do. 
 
 y/. What shall we have Ralph do now, boy ? 
 
 ^<oy. You shall have what you will, sir. 
 
 'it. Why so, sir, go and fetch me him then, and let the Sophy 
 
 'ersia come and christen him a child. 
 
 foy. Beheve rne, sir, that will not do so well ; 'tis stale, it has 
 
 n had before at the Red Bull. 
 
 Vife. George, let Ralph travel over great hills, and let him be 
 
 ry, and come to the King of Cracovia's house, covered with 
 
 ;k velvet, and there let the king's daughter stand in her 
 
 dow all in beaten gold, combing her golden locks with a 
 
 lb of ivory, and let her spy Ralph, and fall in love with him, 
 
S8 ' THE KNIGHT OF , ' lACT iv. 
 
 and come down to him, and carry hini into her father^s house, 
 and then let Ralph talk with her. 
 
 Cii. Well said, Nell, it shall be so. Boy, let's ha't done quickly. 
 
 £oy. Sir, if you will imagine all this to be done already, you 
 shall hear them talk together. But we can'not present a house 
 covered with black velvet, and a lady in beaten gold. 
 
 Ci'L Sir Boy, let's ha't as you can then. 
 
 Boy. Besides, it will show ill-favouredly to have a grocer's; 
 prentice to court a king's daughter. 
 
 Cii. Will it so, sir j" You are well read in histories : I pray 
 you what was Sir Dagonet ? Was not he prentice to a grpcer 
 in London ? Read the play of the " Four Prentices of London,?' 
 where they toss their pikes so. I pray you fetch l^im in, sir ; fetch 
 him in. 
 
 Boy. It shall be done, it is not our fault, gentlemen. [Ex:ii. ■ 
 
 Wiyi. Now we shall see fine doings, I warrant thee, Georgei> 
 Oh, here they come ; how prettily the King of Cracovia's daughter 
 is drest. 
 
 En/er RALPH and the Lady, SQUIRE and Dwarf. 
 
 at. Ay, Nell, it is the fashion of that country, I warrant thee.' 
 Lady. Welcome, Sir Knight, unto my father's court, " 
 
 King of Moldavia, unto me Pompiona, 
 
 His daughter dear. But sure you do not like 
 
 Your entertainment, that will stay with us 
 
 No longer but a night. 
 Ralph. Damsel right ' fair, 
 
 I am on many sad adventures bound, 
 
 That call me forth into the wilderness. 
 
 Besides, my horse's back is something gall'd, 
 
 Which will enforce- me ride a sober pace. 
 
 But many thanks, fair lady, be to you, 
 
 For using errant knight with courtesy. 
 Lady. But say, brave knight, what is your name and birth .■' 
 Ralph. My name is Ralph. I am an Englishman, 
 
 As true as steel, a hearty Englishman, i 
 
 And prentice to a grocer in the Strand, 
 
 I5y deed indent, of which I have one part : 
 
 But fortune calling me to follow- arms, 
 
 On me this holy order I did take, 
 
 Of Burning Pestle, which in all men's eyes 
 
 I bear, confounding ladies' enemies. 
 Lady. Oft have I heard of your brave countrymen, ' 
 
 And fertile soil, and store of wholesome food ; 
 
 My father oft will tell me of a drink 
 
 In England found, and Nipitato call'd, 
 
 Which driveth all the sorrow from your hearts. 
 
SCENE I.] , THE BURNING PESTLE. 59 
 
 Ralph. Lady, 'tis true, -you need not lay your lips 
 To better Nipitato than there is. 
 
 Lady. And of a wildfowl he will often speak. 
 Which powdered beef and mustard called is : 
 ,For there have been great wars 'twixt us and you ; 
 But truly, Ralph, it was not long of me. 
 i Tell me then, Ralph, coiild you contented be 
 To wear a lady's favour in your shield .■' 
 
 ' Ralph. I am a knight of a religious order, 
 ,;And will not wear a favour of a lady 
 That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions. 
 , • dit. Well said, Ralph, convert her if thou canst. 
 
 Ralph. Besides, I have a lady of my own 
 In merry England.; for whose virtuous sake 
 I took these arms, arid Susan is her name, 
 A cobbler's maid in Milk Street, whom Ivdw 
 N^'er to forsake, whilst life and pestle last. 
 
 Lady. Happy that cobbling dame, whoe'er she be, 
 That for her own (dear Ralph) hath gotten thee. 
 Unhappy I, that ne'er shall see the day 
 "To see thee more, that bear'st my heart away. 
 
 , Rctlph. Lady, farewell ; I must needs take my leave. 
 :- Lady. Hard-hearted Ralph, that ladies dost deceive. 
 
 Cit. Hark thee, Ralph, there's money for thee ; give some- 
 thing in the King of Cracovia's house ; be not beholding to him, 
 
 Ralph. -Lady, before I go, I must remember 
 Your father's officers, who, truth. to tell. 
 Have been about me very diligent : 
 H^old -up thy snowy hand, thou princely maid. 
 There's twelve pence for your father's chamberlain, 
 And there's another shilling for his cook. 
 For, by my troth, the goose was roasted well. 
 'Aijd twelve pence for your father's horse-keeper. 
 For 'nointing my horse back ; and for his butter, 
 There is another shilling ; to the, maid 
 That wash'd my boot-hose, there's an English groat. 
 And two pence to the boy that wip'd my boots. 
 And last, fair lady, there is for your self 
 Three pence to buy you' pins at Bumbo Fair. 
 
 Lady. Full many thanks, and I will keep them safe 
 Till all the heads be off, for thy sake, Ralph. 
 
 Ralph. Advance, my squire and dwarf, I cannot stay. 
 
 Lady. Thou kill'st my heart in parting thus away. . \Exeuitt. 
 
 Wife. I commend .Ralph yet, that he will not stoop to a 
 Cracovian ; there's properer women in London than any are 
 there, I wis.' But here comes Master Humphrey and his love 
 again ; now, George. 
 
 Cit. Ay, bird, peace. 
 
6o , THE KNIGHT OF 
 
 Enter MERCHANT, HUMPHREY, LUCE, and BOY. 
 
 Merch. Go, get you up," I will not be entreated." 
 And, gossip mine, I'll keep you sure hereafter 
 From gadding out again with boys and unthrifts ; 
 Come, they are women's tears, I know your fashion. 
 Go, sirrah, lock her in, and keep the key [_Exeunt LuCE and BoY. 
 Safe as your life. Now, my son Humjjhrey, 
 You may both rest assured of my love ' 
 In' this, and reap your own desire. 
 
 Humph. I Fee this love you speak of, through your daughter, ' 
 Although the hole be little, and hereafter 
 Will yield the like in all I may or can, 
 Fitting a Christian and a gentleman. 
 
 Merch. I do believe you, my good son, and thank you, 
 For 'twere an impudence to think you flattered. 
 
 Humph. It were indeed, but shall I tell you why, 
 I have been beaten twice about the lie. 
 
 Merch. Well, son, no more of compliment ; my daughter ' 
 Is yours again : appoint the time aiid take her. 
 We'll have no stealing for it, I myself 
 And some few of our friends will see you married. 
 
 Hiunph. I would you would,i'faith, for be it known - 
 I ever was afraid to lie alone. 
 
 Merch. Some three days hence, then. 
 
 Humph. Three days, let me see, 
 'Tis somewhat of the most, yet I agree, 
 Because I mean against the 'pointed day, - 
 To visit all my friehds in new array. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. Sir, there's a gentlewoman without would speak w: 
 your worship. 
 
 Merch. What is she ? 
 Serv. Sir, 1 asked her not. 
 Merch. Bid her come in. 
 
 E7iter Mistress Merry-thought and Michael.' 
 
 Mist. Mer Peace be to your worship, I come as a poor suitor 
 to you, sir, in the behalf of this child. 
 
 Merch. Are you not wife to Merry-thought ? 
 
 Mist. Mcr. Yes truly, would I had ne'er seen his eyes, he has, , 
 undone me and himself, and his children, and there he lives at 
 home and sings and hoits, and revels among his drunken com-^ 
 
^ SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. ' 6i 
 
 ' panions ; but I warrant you, where to get a penny to put bread 
 
 in his mouth, he knows not. And therefore if it hke your 
 
 worship, I would 6ntreat your letter to the honest host of th,e 
 
 Bell in,Waltham,that I may place my child under the protection 
 
 of his tapster^ in some settled course of life. 
 Mezch, I'm glad the Heav'ns have heard my prayers. Thy 
 husband, 
 
 When I was ripe in sorrows, laughed at me ; 
 --Thy son, like an unthankful wretch, I having 
 ,,Redeem'd him from his fall, and made him mine, 
 
 To show his love again, first stole my daughter : 
 
 Then wrong'd this gentleman, and last of all 
 
 Gave me that grief, had almost brought me down 
 
 Unto my grave, had not a stronger hand 
 
 Reliev'd my sorrows. Go, and weep as I did, 
 
 And be unpitied, for here I profess 
 
 An everlasting hate to all thy name. 
 
 Mist. Mer. Will you so, sir, how say you by that ? Come, 
 , Mick, let him keep his wind to cool his pottage ; we'll go to thy 
 
 nurse's, Mick, she knits silk stockings, boy ; and we'll knit too, 
 
 boy, and be beholding to none of them all. 
 
 \_Exeunt Michael and Mother. 
 
 Enter a Boy with a letter. 
 
 Boy. Sir, I take it you are the, master of this house. 
 
 Merch. How then, boy? 
 
 Bfiy. Then to yourself, sir, comes this letter. 
 
 Merch. From whom, my pretty boy ? 
 
 Boy. From him that was your servant, but no more 
 Shall that name ever be, for he is dead. 
 Grief of your purchas'd anger broke his heart ; 
 I saw him die, and from his hand receiv'd 
 This paper, with a charge to bring it hither ; 
 Read it, and satisfy yourself in all. 
 
 , , Letter. 
 
 Merch. Sir, that I have zvronged your love I must (on/ess, in 
 which I have purchas'd to myself, besides mine own undoing, the 
 ill opinion of my friends; let not your anger, good sir, outlive 
 nie, but suffer me to rest in peace' with your forgiveness ; lei my 
 body {if a dying man may so much prevail with you) be brought 
 to your daughter, that she may know my hot flames are now 
 buried, and ivithal receive a, testimony of^the zeal 1 bore her 
 virtue. Farewell for ever, and be ever happy. — JASPER. 
 
 God's hand is great in thts. I do forgive him, 
 Yet am I glad he's quiet, where I hope 
 
63 THE KMGHT OF [act iv.- 
 
 'He will not bite again. Boy, bring the body, 
 And let hiiii have his wil}, if that be all. 
 
 Boy. 'Tis here without, sir.,, , 
 
 Merck. So, sir, if you please 
 You may conduct it in, I do not fear it. ' , , 
 
 Humph, m be your usher, boy, for though I say it, 
 He ow'd me something once, a!nd well did pay it. \_Exeunt. 
 
 ' Enter LucE alone. 
 
 Luce. If there be any punishment inflicted x 
 
 Upon the miserable, more than yet I feel. 
 Let it together seize me, and at once 
 ' Press down my soul ; I cannot bear the pain 
 Of these delaying tortures. Thou that art 
 The end of all, and the sweet rest of all, 
 Come, come, O Death, and bring me to thy peace, 
 And blot out all the memory I nourish 
 Both of my father and my cruel frierid. 
 O wretched maid, still living to be wretched, ' 
 To be a say to Fortune in her changes. 
 And grow to number times and woes together. ' 
 How happy had I been, if being born 
 My grave had been. my cradle? • 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. By your leave, 
 Young mistress, here's a boy hath brought a coffin. 
 What a would say I know not ; but your father \ 
 
 Cha*rg'd me to give you notice. Here they come. 
 
 Enter two beariitg a coffin, Jasper in it. 
 
 Luce. For me I hope 'tis come, and 'tis most welcome. 
 
 Boy. Fair mistress, let me not add greater grief 
 To that great store you have already ; Jasper 
 (That whilst, he liv'd was ypurs, now's dead. 
 And here inclos'd) commanded me to bring 
 His body hither, and to crave a tear 
 From ^hose fair eyes, though he deserv'd not pity, 
 To deck his funeral, for so he bid me 
 Tell her for whom he died. 
 
 Luce. He shall have many. 
 
 \_Exeufit CoFFiN-cARKiER and Boy. 
 Good friends, depart a little, whilst I take 
 My leave of this dead man, that once I lov'd : 
 Hold, yet a little, life, and then I give thee 
 
'SCENE I.] ' THE 'BURNING PESTLE: 63 
 
 To thy first Heav'nly Being. O toy friend! 
 Hast thou deceiv'd me thus, and got before me ? , 
 I shall not long be after, but believe me, 
 Thou wert too cruel, Jasper, 'gainst thyself, 
 In punishing the fault I could have pardon'd. 
 With so untimely, death ; thou didst not wrong me, 
 But ever wert most kind, most true, most loving : 
 And I the most unkind, most false, most cruel. 
 Didst thou but ask a tear ? I'll give thee all. 
 Even all my eyes can pour down, all my sighs, 
 And all myself, before thou goest from me. 
 These are but sparing rites ; but if thy soul 
 Be yet about this place, and can behold 
 Arid see what I prepare to deck thee with, 
 It shall go up, borne on the wings of peace, 
 And satisfied. First will I sing thy dirge. 
 Then kiss thy pale lips, and then die, myself, 
 And fill one coffin, and one grave togetheif . 
 
 Song. 
 
 Come you whose loves are dead, 
 , And whilst I sing, 
 
 Weep and \yring 
 Every hand, and every head 
 , Bind with cypress and sad yew ; 
 Ribbons black and candles blue, 
 For him that was of men most true. 
 
 Come with heavy moaning, 
 
 And on his grave 
 
 Let him have 
 Sacrifice of sighs and groaning ; 
 Let him have fair flowers enow, 
 White and purple, green and yellow. 
 For him that was of men most true. 
 
 Thou sable cloth, sad cover of my joys, 
 I lift thee up, and thus I meet with death. 
 
 J asp. And thus you meet the living. 
 
 Luce. Save,me, HeaVn ! 
 
 J asp. Nay, do not fly me, fair, I am no spirit ; 
 Look better on me, do you know me yet ? 
 
 Luce. O thou dear shadow of my friend ! 
 
 Jasp. Dear substance, 
 I swear I am no shadow; feel my hand, 
 It is the same it was : I a,m your Jasper, 
 Your Jasper that's yet living, and yet loving ; 
 • Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proof 
 fput in practice of your constancy. 
 
64 . THE KNIGHT OF ■ , , {ACT IV. 
 
 For sooner should my sword have drunk my blood, 
 
 And set my soul ^t liberty, than drawn 
 
 The least drop from that body, for which boldness ' 
 
 Doom me to anything ; if -death, I take it 
 
 And willingly. , 
 
 Litce. This death I'll give you for it : 
 
 So, now I'm satisfied ; you are no spii-it. 
 But my own truest, truest, truest friend, 
 Why do vou come thus to me ? 
 
 Jasp. ' First, to see you, 
 
 Then to convey you hence. 
 
 Luce. It cannot be,- 
 
 For I am lock'd up here, and watch'd at all hours. 
 That 'tis impossible for me to 'scape. 
 
 yasp. Nothing more possible : within this coffin 
 Do you convey yourself; let me alone, 
 I have the wits of twenty men about me, 
 Only I. crave the shelter of your closet 
 A little, and then fear me not ; creep in 
 That they may presently convey ypu hence. 
 Fear nothing, dearest love, I'll be your second ; 
 Lie close, so, all goes well yet. Boy ! 
 
 Boy. At hand, sir. 
 
 J asp: Convey away the coffin, and be wary. 
 
 Boy. 'Tis done already. 
 
 Jasp. Now must I go conjure. {Exit, 
 
 Enter Merchant. 
 
 Merfh. Boy, bqy ! , - 
 
 Boy. Your servant, sir. 
 
 Merch. Do me this kindness, boy ; hold, here's a crown : 
 before thou bury the body of this fellow, carry it to his old 
 merry father, and salute him from me, and bid him sing : he 
 hath cause. 
 
 Boy. I will, sir. 
 
 Merch. And then bring me word what tune he is in, 
 And have another crown ; but do it truly. 
 I've fitted him a bargain, now, will vex him. 
 
 Boy. God bless your worship's health, sir. 
 * Merch. Farewell, boy. - {Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Master Merry-thcjught. 
 
 Wife. Ah, Old Merry-thought, art thou there, again ? Let's 
 hear some of thy songs. 
 
 Old Mer. '' Who can sing a merrier note 
 
 Than he that cannot change a groat ? " 
 
SCENE I.] ■ TtlE -BURNING PESTLE. 65 
 
 Not a denier left, and yet my heart leaps ; I do wonder yet, as 
 old as I am, that any man will follow a trade, or serve, that may 
 sing and laugh, and walk the streets. My wife and both my 
 sons are I know not where ; I have nothing left, nor know I how 
 to come by meat to supper, yet am I merry still; for I know I 
 shall find it upon the table at six o'clock; therefore, hang 
 thought. 
 
 " I would not be a serving-man 
 
 To carry the cloak-bag still. 
 
 Nor would I be a falconer 
 
 The greedy hawks to fill ; 
 
 But I would be in a good house. 
 
 And have a good master too ; 
 
 But I would eat and drink of the best, 
 
 And no work would I do." 
 This is it that keeps life and soul together, mirth. This is the 
 philosopher's stone that they write so much on, that keeps a man 
 ever young. 
 
 Enter a Boy. 
 
 Boy. Sir, they say they know all your money is gone, and they 
 will trust you for no more drink. 
 
 Old Mer. Will they not .-' Let 'etti choose. The best is, I have 
 mirth at home, and need not send abroad for that. Let them 
 keep their drink to themselves. 
 
 " For JilUan of Berry, she dwells on a hill. 
 And she hath good beer and ale to sell, 
 And of good fellows she thinks no ill, 
 
 And thither will we go now, now, now, and 
 thither will we go now. 
 And when you have made a little stay, 
 You need not know what is to pay. 
 But kiss your hostess and go your way. 
 And thither, &c." 
 
 Enter another Boy. 
 
 , ziid Boy. Sir, I can get no bread for supper. 
 
 Old Mer. Hang bread and supper, let's preserve our mirth, 
 apd we shall liever feel hunger^ I'll warrant you ; let's have a 
 catch. Boy, follow me ; come sing this catch : 
 - "Ho, ho, nobody at home. 
 
 Meat, nor drink, nor money ha' we none ; 
 Fill the pot, Eedy, 
 Never more need I." 
 So,,boys, enough, follow me ; let's change our place, and we 
 shall laugh afresh. [Exeunt. 
 
 Wife. Let him go, George, a shall not have any countenance 
 
 c 
 
66 THE KNIGHT OF [act iv. ^ 
 
 from us, hot a good word from any i' th' company, if I may 
 
 strike strolie in't. • ,■,-,■, ^ t, -t r. 
 
 Cii. No more a sha'not, love ; but, Nell, I will hav6 Ralph 
 do a very notable matter now, to the eternal honour and glory 
 of all grocers. Sirrah, you there, boy, can none of you hear ? 
 
 Boy. Sir, your pleasure. 
 
 at. Let Ralph come out on May-day in the mornmg, and,' 
 speak upon a conduit with all his scarfs about him, and his 
 feathersj and his rings, and his knacks. 
 
 Boy. Why, sir, you do not think of our plot, what will become 
 of that, then ? 
 
 Ci'i. Why, sir, I care not what become on't. I'll have, hitn : 
 come out, or I'll fetch him out myself; I'll have something done ■ 
 in honour of the city ; besides, he hath been long enough upon 
 adventures. Bring him outiquickly,for I come amongst you^^ 
 
 Boy. Well, sirj.he shall come out; but if our play miscarry, 
 sir, you are like to pay for't. [Exti. 
 
 CU. Bring him away, then. 
 
 Wife. This will be brave, i'faith. George, shall not he dance ' 
 the morrice, too, for the Credit of the Strand ? 
 
 at. No, sweetheart, it will be too much for the boy. . Oh, 
 there he is, ISfell; he's reasonable well in reparel, buthe hasinot 
 rings enough. . i 
 
 Enter Ralph. 
 
 Ralph. " London, to thee I do present the merry month of 
 May, 
 Let each true subject be content to hear me what I say^ : 
 For from the top of conduit bead, as plainly may appear, 
 I will both tell my name to you, and wherefore -I came here. 
 My name is Ralph, by due descent, though not ignoble I, 
 Yet far inferior to the flock of gracious grocery. ' 
 
 And by the common counsel of my fellows in the Strand, 
 With gilded staff, and crossed scarf, the May lord here I stand. ^ 
 Rejoice, O English hearts, rejoice ; rejoice, O lovers dear ; 
 Rejoice, O city, town, and country ; rejoice eke every shire ; 
 For now the fragrant flowers do spring and sprout in seemly 
 
 sort, ' ;■ 
 
 The little birds do sit arid sing, the lambs do make fine sport : y 
 And now the birchin tree doth bud that makes the schoolboy; 
 
 cry, , ' ' . 
 
 The morrice rings while hobby-horse doth foot it featuously : 
 The loi-ds and ladies now abroad, for their disport and play, ' , 
 Do kiss sometimes upon- the grass, and sometimes in the hay* ' 
 Now butter with a leaf of sage is good to purge the blood; ' .', 
 Fly Venus and Phlebotomy, for they are neither good.. , ^ ■ ,. 
 Now little fish on tender stone begin to cast their bellies, , > 
 
SCENE I.]' ' THE BURNING -PESTLE. 67 
 
 ' ' ' . 
 
 And sluggish snail, that erst were mew'd, do creep out of their 
 
 ' shellies. 1 
 
 The rumbling rivers now do warm, for little boys to paddle, 
 The sturdy steed now goes to grass, and up they hang his 
 
 saddle. 
 The heavy hatt, the blowing buck, the rascal and the pricket. 
 Are now among the yeoman's pease, and leave the fearful 
 
 thicket. 
 "And be like them, O you, I say, of this same noble town, 
 And lift aloft your velvet heads, and slipping of your gown, 
 With bells on legs, and napkins clean unto your shoulders ty'd. 
 With Scarfs and garters as you please, and Hey for our town ! 
 
 cry'd. 
 ■ March out and show your willing minds, by twenty and by 
 
 twenty. 
 
 To Hogsdon, or to Newington, where ale and cakes are plenty. 
 
 I And let it ne'er be said for shame, that we the youths of London, 
 
 'Lay, thrumming of our caps at home, and left our custom undone. 
 
 Up then I say, both young and old, both man and maid 
 
 a-maying, 
 With drums and guns that bounce aloud, and , merry tabor 
 
 . playing. 
 Which to prolong, God save our king, and send his country 
 
 peace. 
 And root out treason from the land ; and so, my friends, 1 cease. 
 
 ACT v.— Scene I. 
 
 Enter Merchant, solus. < 
 
 Merck: I will have no great store of company at the wedding: 
 a couple of neighbours and their wives ; and we will have a 
 capon in stewed broth, with marrow, and a good piece of beef, 
 stuck with rosemary. 
 
 Enter Jasper, with his face mealed. 
 
 J asp. Forbear thy pains, fond man, it is too late. 
 
 Merck. Heav'n bless me ! Jasper ! 
 ,' Jasp.. Ay, 1 am his ghost, 
 Whdm thou hast injur'd for his constant love : 
 Fond worldly wretch, who dost not understand 
 In death that true hearts cannot parted be. 
 First know, thy daughter is quite borne away ' ^ ^ 
 
 ,0n wings of angels, through the liquid air ^ 
 
 Too far out of thy reach, and never more 
 Shalt thou behold her face : but she and I 
 Will in' another world enjoy our loves. 
 
68 ,: THE KNIGHT OF |>CT v. 
 
 Where neither father's anger, poverty, 
 
 Nor any cross that troubles earthly men, 
 
 Shall make us sever our united hearts. 
 
 And never shalt thou sit, or be alone 
 
 In any place, but I will visit thee 
 
 With ghastly looks, and put into thy mind 
 
 The great offences which thou didst to me. 
 
 When thou art at thy table with thy friends, 
 
 Merry in heart, and fiU'd with swelling wine, 
 
 I'll come in midst of all thy pride and mirth, 
 
 Invisible to all men but thyself. 
 
 And whisper such a sad tale in thine ear, , 
 
 Shall make thee let the cup fall from thy hand. 
 
 And stand as mute and pale as death itself. 
 
 Merch. Forgive me, Jasper ! Oh ! what might I do, 
 Tell me, to satisfy thy troubled ghost ? 
 
 J asp. There is no means, too late thou think'st on this. 
 
 Merch. But tell me what were best for me to. do ? 
 
 Jasp. Repent thy deed, and satisfy my father, 
 And beat fond Humphrey out of thy doors. \Exit JASPER. 
 
 Enter Humphrey. 
 
 Wife. Look, George, his very ghost would have; folks beaten. 
 
 Humph. Father, my bride is gone, fair Mistress Luce. 
 ■ My soul's the font of vengeance, mischiefs sluice. 
 
 Merch. Hence, fool, out of my sight, with thy fond passion ■ 
 Thou hast undone me. 
 
 Humph. Hold, my father dear. 
 
 For Luce thy daughter's sake, that had no peer. 
 
 Merch. Thy father, fool .'' There's some blows more, begone. 
 
 \_Beats him.' 
 Jasper, I hope thy ghost be well ajjpeased 
 To see thy will perform'd ; now will I go 
 To satisfy thy father for thy wrongs. [Exit. 
 
 Humph. What shall I do ? I have been beaten twice, 
 And Mistress Luce is gone. Help me, device : 
 Since my true love is gone, I never more. 
 Whilst I do live, upon the sky will pore ; 
 But in the dark will wear out my shoe-soles 
 In passion, in Saint Faith's Church under Paul's. [Exil. 
 
 Wife. George, call Ralph hither ; if you love me, call Ralph 
 hither. I have the bravest thing for him to do, George ; prithe^ 
 call him quickly. 
 
 at. Ralph, why Ralph, boy ! 
 
 Enter Ralph. 
 Ralph. Here, sir. 
 Cit. Come hither, Ralph, come to thy mistress, boy 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PilSTLE. 69 
 
 Wife. Ralph, I would have thee fcall all the youths together in 
 battle-ray, with drums, and guns, and flags, and march to Mile 
 End in pompous fashion, and there exhort your soldiers to be 
 merry and wise, and to keep their beards from burning, Ralph ; 
 and then skiririish, and let your flags fly, and cry, Kill, kill, kill ! 
 My husband shall lend you his jerkin,. Ralph,, and there's a 
 scarf; for the rest, the house shall furnish you, and we'll pay 
 for't : do it bravely, Ralph, and think before whom you perform, 
 and what person you represent. 
 
 Ralph. I warrant you, mistress, if I do it not, for the honour 
 of the city, and tlie credit of my master, let me never hope for 
 freedom. 
 
 Wife. 'Tis well spoken i'faith ; go thy ways, thou art a spark 
 indeed. > 
 
 at. Ralph, double your files bravely, Ralph. 
 
 Ralph, I warrant you, sir. [Exit Ralph. 
 
 at. Let him look narrowly to his service, 1 shall take him 
 else ; I was there myself a pike-man once, in the hottest of the 
 day, wench ; had my feather shot sheer away, the fringe of my 
 pike burnt off with powder, my pate broken with a scouring- 
 stick, and yet I thank God I am here. . [Drum ■within. 
 
 Wife. Hark, George, the drums ! 
 
 at. Ran, tan, tan, tan, ran tan. Oh, wench, an' thou hadst, but 
 seen little Ned of Aldgate, drum Ned, how he made it roar again, 
 and laid on like a tyrant, and then struck softly till the Ward 
 came up, and then thundered again, and together we go : " Sa, 
 sa, sa," bounce quoth the guns ; " Courage, my hearts," quoth the 
 captains: " Saint George," quoth the pike-men ; and withal here 
 "they lay, and there they lay ; and yet for all this 1 am here, wench. 
 
 Wife. Be thankful for it, George, for indeed 'tis wonderful. 
 
 Enter Ralph and his Company, with drums and colours. 
 
 Ralph. March fair, my hearts ; lieutenant, beat the rear up : 
 'ancient, let your colours fly ; but have a great cafe of the 
 butchers' hooks at Whitechapel, they have been the death of 
 many a fair ancient. Open your files, that I may take a view 
 both of your persons and munition. Sergeant, call a muster. 
 
 Serg. A stand. William Hamerton, pewterer. 
 
 Ham Here, Captain. , 
 
 Ralph. A croslet and a Spanish pike ; 'tis well, can you shake 
 it with a terror ? 
 
 Ham. I hope so, captain. 
 
 JRalph. Charge upon me— 'tis with the weakest. Put more 
 strength, William Hamerton, more strength. As you were 
 again ; proceed, sergeant. 
 ' Serg. George Green-goose, poulterer. 
 
 Green. Here. 
 
70 THE KNIGHT OF ' ' [act v. 
 
 ■Ralfh. Let me see your piece, neighbour Green-goose. When 
 was she shot in ? . , 
 
 Green. Ah' like you, master captain, I made a shot even now, 
 partly to scour her, and partly for audacity. 
 
 Ralph. It should seem so, certainly, for her breath is yet 
 inflamed ; besides, there is a main fault in the touch-hole, it 
 stinketh. And I tell you, moreover, and believe it, ten such 
 touch-holes would poison the army ; get you a feather, neighbour, 
 get you a feather, sweet oil and paper, and your piece may do 
 well enough yet. Where's your powder ? , » 
 
 Green. Here. 
 
 Ralph. What, in a paper ? As I am a soldier and a gentle- . 
 man, it craves a martial court : you ought to die for"!. Where's 
 your horn ? Answer me to that. 
 
 Green. An't like you, sir, I was oblivious. 
 
 Ralph. It likes me not it should be so ; 'tis a shame for yoj:, 
 and a scandal to all our neighbours, being a man of vsrorth and 
 estimation, to leave your horn behind you : I am afraid 'twill , 
 brted example. But let me tell you no more on't ; stand, till- 1 
 view you all. What's become o' th' nose of your flask ? 
 
 \st Sold- Indeed, la' captain, 'twas blown away with powder. 
 
 Ralph. Put on a new one at the city's charge. Where's^ the 
 flint of this piece ? 
 , ind Sqld. The drummer took it out to light tobacco. 
 
 Ralph. 'Tis a fault, my friend; put it in again. You want a 
 nose, and you a flint ; sergeant, take a note on't, for I mean to 
 stop it in their pay. Remove and march ; soft and fair, gentle- 
 men, soft and fair : double your files; as you were ; faces about. 
 Now you with the sodden face, keep in there : look to ypur 
 match, sirrah, it will be in your fellow's flask anon. So make a 
 crescent now, advance youi; pikes, stand and give ear. Gentle- • 
 men, countrymen, friends, and my fellow-soldiers, I have brought 
 you this day from the shop of security and the counters of 
 content, to measure out in these furious fields honour by' the ell 
 and prowess by the pound. Let it not, O let it mot, I say; be 
 told hereafter, the noble issue of this city fainted ; but bear 
 yourselves in this fair action like men, valiant men, and free 
 men. Fear not the face of the enemy, nor the noise of the guns ; 
 for believe me, brethren, the rude rumbling of a brewer's car is 
 more terrible, of which you have a daily experience : neither let 
 the stink of powder offend you, since a more valiant stink, is 
 always with you. To a resolved mind his home is everywhere. 
 I speak not this to take away the hope of your return ; for you 
 shall see (I do not doubt it), and tl^at very shortly, your loving 
 wives again, and your sweet children, whose care doth bear you' 
 company in baskets. Remember, then, whose cause you havfe 
 in hand, and like a sort of true-born scavengers, scour me thi's 
 famous realm of enemies. I have no more to say but this : 
 
SCENE I.] The BiJkNING PESTLE. '' 71 
 
 Stand -to your tacklii^gs, lads, and, show to the woi'ld you can as ' 
 well brandish a sword as shake an apron. Saint George, and 
 on, my hearts ! 
 
 Omnes. Saint George, Saint George ! , \_Exeunt. 
 
 Wife. 'Twas well done, Ralph ; I'll send thee a cold' capon a 
 field, and a bottle of March beer ; and, it may be, come myself 
 to see thee. ' 
 
 at. Nell, the boy hath deceived me much ; I did not think it 
 had been in- him. He has perform'd such a matter, wench, that, 
 if I live, aext year I'll have him Captain of the Gallifoist, or I'll 
 want my will. 
 
 E7iter Old Merry-thought. 
 
 - Old Mer. Yet, I thank God, I break notja wrinkle more than 
 I had ; not a stoop, boys. Care, live with cats, I defy thee ! My 
 heart is as sound as an oak ; and tho' I want drink to wet my 
 whistle, I can sing, 
 
 " Come no more there, boys ; come no more there : 
 For we shall never, whilst we live, come any more there.^' 
 
 Enter a Boy with a coffin. 
 
 Bay. God save you, sir. 
 
 Old Mer. It's a brave boy. Canst thou sing 'i 
 
 Boy. Yes, sir, I can sing, but 'tis not, so necessary at this time. 
 
 Old Mer. " Sin^ v^e, and chaunt it, 
 
 Whilst love doth grant it." 
 Boy. Sir, sir, if you knew what I have brought you, you 
 would have little list to sing. 
 
 Old Mer, " Oh, the Mimon round. 
 
 Full long I have thee sought, 
 
 And now I have thee found, 
 
 And what hast thou here brought ? " 
 Boy. ' A coffin, sir, and your dead son Jasper in it. ' 
 Old Mer. Dead! 
 
 " Why farewell he : 
 Thou wast a bonny boy. 
 And I did love thee." 
 
 Enter JASPER. 
 
 ' yasp. Then I pray you, sir, do so still. 
 Old^ Mer. Jasper's ghost ! 
 
 " Thou art welcome from Stygian-lake so soon, 
 Declare to me what wondrous things 
 In Pluto's Court are done." 
 J asp, "Siy my troth, sir, I ne'er came there, 'tis too hot for 
 me, feir. / 
 
 Old Mer. A merry ghost, a very merry ghost. 
 
 " And where is your true love ? Oh, where is yours ? '' 
 
72 THE KNIGHT OF " [act, v. 
 
 Jasp. Marry look you, sir. \Heaves up tfie coffin. 
 
 Old Mer. Ah ha ! Art thou good at that i'faith ? ' i' 
 " With hey trixie terlerie-whiskin, 
 
 The world it runs on wheels '; 
 
 When the young man's frisking 
 
 Up goes the maiden's heels." 
 
 Mistress Merry-thought a«^ -Michael within. 
 
 Mist. Mer. What, Mr. Merry-thought, will you not let's in ? 
 What do you think shall become of us ? 
 
 Old Mer. What voice is that that calleth at our door ? 
 Mist. Mer.. You know me well enough, I am, sure I have not 
 been such a' stranger to you. 
 
 Old Mer. " And some they whistled, and some they sungj ' 
 Hey down, down : 
 And some did loudly say, 
 Ever as the Lord Barnet's horn blew, 
 ' Away, Musgrave, away." 
 Mist, Mer. You will not have us starve here, will you, Master ' 
 Merry-thought .' 
 
 Jasp. Nay, good sir, be persuaded, she is my mother. If 
 her offences have been great against you, let your' own love 
 remember she is yours, and so forgive her., 
 
 Litce. Good Master Merry-thought, let me entreat you, I will 
 not be denied. 
 
 , Mist. Mer. Why, Master Merry-thought, will you be a vext 
 thing still ? 
 
 Old Mer. Woman, I take you to my love again, but you shall 
 sing before you enter; therefore despatch your song, and so 
 come in. ' -, 
 
 Mist. Mer. Well, you must have your will when all's done.,; 
 Michael, what song canst thou sing, boy ? 
 
 Mich. I can sing none forsooth but " A Lady's Daughter of 
 Paris," properly. 
 Mist. Mer. [song.] " It was a lady's daughter," &c. 
 Old Mer. Come, you're welcome home again. 
 " If such danger be in playing. 
 And jest must to earnest turn. 
 You shall go no more a-maying "—— 
 Merck, [within.] Are you within, Sir Master Merry-thought?. 
 Jasp. It is my master's voice, good sir ; go hold him in talk 
 whilst we convey ourselves into some inward room. 
 
 Old Mer. What are you ? Are you merry ? You must be very 
 merry if you enter. 
 Merch. I am, sir. 
 Old Mer. Sin^, then. 
 Aicrch. Nay, good sir, open to me. 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. 73 
 
 Old Mer. Sing, I say, or by tjie merry heart you come not in. 
 
 Merch. Well, sir, I'll sing. 
 
 '' Fortune my foe," &c. 
 
 Old Mer. You are welcome, sir, you are welcome : you see 
 your entertainment, pray you be merry. 
 
 Merch. Oh, IVIaster Mefrry-thought, I'm come to ask you 
 Forgiveness for the wrongs I offered you. 
 And your most virtuous son ; they're infinite. 
 Yet my contrition shall be more than they. 
 I do confess my hardness broke his heart, 
 For which jtjst HeaVn hath given me punishment. 
 More than my age can carry ; his wand'ring sprite, 
 Not yet at rest, pursues me everywhere, 
 Crying, I'll haunt thee for thy cruelty. 
 My daughter she is gone, I know not how. 
 Taken invisible, and whether living. 
 Or in grave, 'tis yet uncertain to me. 
 Oh, Master Merry-thought, these are the weights 
 Will sink me to, my grave. Forgive me, sir. 
 
 Old Mer. -Why, sir, I do forgive you, and be merry. 
 And if the wag in's lifetime pla/d the knave, 
 Can you forgive him too .'' 
 
 Merch. ' With all my heart, sir. v 
 
 ' . Old Mer. Speak it again, and heartily. 
 
 Merch. I do, sir. 
 
 Now by my soul I do. 
 
 Old Mer. " With that came out his paramour, 
 I She was as white as the lily flower, 
 Hey troul, troly loly. 
 With that came out her own dear knight. 
 He was as true as ever did fight," &c. 
 
 Enter LuCE and JASPER. 
 
 Sir, if you will forgive 'em, clap their hands togethery there's no 
 more to be said i' th' matter. 
 
 Merch. I do, I do ! 
 
 Cit. I do not like this. Peace, boys, hear me one of you, 
 everybody's part is. come to an end but Ralph's, and he's left 
 out. 
 
 Boy. 'Tis long of yourself, sir, we have nothing to do with, 
 his part. ' 
 
 Cit. Ralph, come away, make on him as you have done of 
 the rest, boys, come. 
 
 Wife. Now, good husba;nd, let him come out and die. 
 
 Cit. He shall, Nell ; Ralph, come away quickly and die, boy. 
 
 Bay. 'Twill be very unfit he should die, sir, upon no occasiori, 
 and in a comedy too. 
 
74 THE KNIGHT OF ' [act v. 
 
 at. Take you no care for that, Sir Boy ; is not his part at an 
 end, think you, when he's dead ? Come away, Ralph. 
 
 Enter Ralph with a forked arrow through his head. 
 
 Ralph. When I was mortal, this my costive corps 
 Did lap up figs and raisins in the, Strand, 
 Where sitting, I espy'd a lovely dame, 
 Whose master wrought with lingel and with awl. 
 And underground he vampdd many a boot. 
 Straight did her love prick forth me, tender sprig. 
 To follow feats of arms in warlike wise. 
 Through Waltham Desert ; where I did perform 
 Many achievements, and did lay on ground 
 Huge Barbaroso, that insulting giant, 
 And all his captives soon set at liberty. 
 Then honour prick'd me from my native soil 
 Into Moldavia, where I gain'd the love 
 
 Of Poihpiana, his beloved daughter ; ' 
 
 But yet prov'd constant to the black-thumbed maid 
 Susan, -and scorned Pompiana's love. , 
 
 Yet liberal I was, and gave her pins, 
 And money for her father's officers. 
 I then returned home, and thrust myself 
 In action, and by all men chosen was 
 The Lord of May, where I did flourish it, 
 With scarfs and rings, and posie in my hand. 
 After this action I preferred was, 
 And chosen City Captain at Mile End, 
 With hat and feather, and with leading staff, ' 
 
 And train'd my men, and brought them all off clean. 
 Save one man that berayed him with the noise. 
 But all these things I, Ralph, did undertake, 
 Only for my belovdd Susan's sake. 
 Then coming home, and sitting in my shop 
 With apron blue. Death came unto my stall ' , 
 
 To cheapen aquavitse, but ere 1 
 Could take the bottle down, and fill a taste. 
 Death caught a pound of pepper in his hand, 
 And sprinkled all my face and body o'er. 
 And in an, instant vanished away. 
 
 at. 'Tis a pretty fiction, i'faith. 
 
 Ralph. Then took I up my bow and shaft in hand. 
 And walkdd in Moorfields to cool myself. 
 But there grim cruel Death met me again. 
 And shot his forked arrow through my head. 
 And now I faint ; therefore be warn'd by me. 
 My fellows every one, of forked heads. 
 
SCENE I.] THE BURNING PESTLE. 75 
 
 Farewell, all you good boys in merry London, 
 
 Near shall ,we more upon Shrove Tuesday meet, 
 
 And pluck down houses of iniquity. 
 
 My pain increaseth : I shall never more 
 
 When clubs are cried be brisk upon my legs, 
 
 Nor daub a satin gown with rotten eggS. 
 
 Set up a 'stake, oh never more I shall ; 
 
 I die ! Fly, fly, my soul, to Grocers Hall ! Oh, oh, oh, &c. 
 
 Wife. Well said, Ralph, do- your obeisance to the gentlemen, 
 and go your ways. Well said, Ralph. ' {Exit Ralph. 
 
 Old Mer. Methiriks all we, thus kindly and unexpectedly 
 reconciled, should not part without a song. 
 
 Merch. A gopd motion. 
 
 Old Mer. Strike up, then. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Better music ne'er was knowp, 
 , Than a quire of hearts in one. 
 , Let each other, that hath been 
 
 Troubled with the gall or spleen, 
 
 Learn of us to keep his brow 
 
 Smooth and plain, as yours are how. 
 
 Sing though before the hour of dying, 
 
 He shall rise, and then be crying 
 
 Heyho, 'tis nought but mirth 
 
 That keeps the body from the earth. \_Exeunt omnes. 
 
 EPILOGUS. 
 
 at. Come, Nell, shall we go ? The play's done. 
 
 Wife. Nay, by my faith, George, I have more manners than 
 so,' I'll speak to these gentlemen first. I thank you all, gentle- 
 men, for your patience and countenance to Ralph, a poor father- 
 less child, and if I may see you at my house, it should go hard 
 but I would have a pottle of wine, and a pipe of tobacco for you ; 
 for truly I hope you like the youth, but I would be glad to know 
 the truth, I refer it to your own discretions, whether you will 
 applaud him or no, for I will wink, and whilst, you shall do what 
 you will.^-I thank you with all my heart ; God give you good 
 night. Come, George. 
 
The Rehearsal, 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Bayes. 
 Johnson. 
 
 bMITH. 
 
 Two Kings of Brentford, 
 
 Prince Pretty-man. 
 
 Prince Volscius. y 
 
 Gentleman-Usher. ) 
 
 Physician. ' 
 
 Drawcansir. 
 
 General. 
 
 Lieutenant-General, 
 
 Cordelio. 
 
 Tom Thimble. 
 
 Fisherman. 
 
 Sun. 
 
 Thunder. 
 
 Mutes. 
 
 Players. 
 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Two Heralds. 
 
 Four Cardinals. \ 
 
 Mayor. \ 
 
 Judges. r • 
 
 Serjeant-at-Arms, ) 
 
 Amaryllis. 
 
 Cloris. 
 
 Parthenope. 
 
 Pallas. 
 
 Lightning, 
 
 Moon. 
 
 Earth. 
 
 Attendants of Men and Women. 
 
 SCENE.— Brentford. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 We might well call this short mock-play of ours, 
 A posy made of weeds instead of flowers ; 
 Yet such have been presented to your noses, 
 And there are such, I fear, who thought 'em roses. 
 Would some of 'em were here, to see, this night. 
 What stuff it is in which they took delight. 
 Here brisk insipid rogues, for wit, let fall 
 Sometimes dull sense ; but oft'ner none at all. 
 There, strutting heroes, with a grim-fac'd train, 
 Shall brave the gods, in King Cambyses' vein. 
 For (changing rules, of late, as if man writ 
 In spite of reason, nature, art and wit) 
 Our poets make us laugh at tragedy, 
 
78 THE REHEARSAL. [act i. 
 
 And with their comedies they malce us cry. 
 ' Now critics, do your worst, that here are met ; 
 For, Uke a rook, I have hedg'd m my bet. 
 If you ap'prove, I shall assume the state 
 Of those high-flyers whom I imitate : 
 And justly too, for I will teach you more 
 Than ever they would let you know before. 
 I will not only show the feats they do, 
 But give you all their reasons for 'em too. 
 Some honour'may to me from hence arise ; 
 But if, by my endeavours you grow wise, 
 And what you once so prais'd, shall now despise ; 
 Then I'll cry out, swell'd with poetic rage, 
 'Tis I, John Lacy, have reform'd your stage. 
 
 ACT I.— Scene I. 
 Johnson and Smith. 
 
 Johns. Honest Frank ! I am glad to see thee with all my 
 
 heart : how long hast thou. been in town? 
 
 ' Smith. Faith, not above an hour : and, if I had not met you 
 
 here, I had gone to look you out ; for I long to talk with you 
 
 freely of all the strange new things we have heard in the country. 
 
 Johns. And, by my troth, I have long'd as much to laugh 
 with you at all the impeirtihent, dull, fantastical things, we are 
 tired out with here. 
 
 Smith. Dull and fantastical ! that's an excellent composition. ■ 
 Pray, what are our men of business doing ? . ~ ' 
 
 Johns. I ne'er inquire after 'em. Thou knowest my humour 
 lies another way. I love to please myself as much, and to,, 
 trouble others as little as I can ; and therefore do naturally 
 avoid the company of those solemn fops, who, being incapable, 
 of reason, and insensible of wit and pleasure; are' always looking 
 grave, and troubling one another, in hopes to be thought men of 
 business. 
 
 Smith. Indeed, I have ever observed, that your grave lookers 
 are the dullest of men. 
 
 ■ Johns. Ay, and of birds and beasts too : your gravest bird is 
 an owl, and your gravest beast is an ass. 
 
 Smith. Well : but how dost thou pass thy time ? 
 
 Johns. Why, as I us^d to do ; eat, drink as well as I can/ 
 have a friend to chat with , in the afternoon, and some-' ' 
 times see a play ; where there are such things, Frank, such 
 hideous, monstrous things, that it has almost made me forswear 
 the stage, and resolve to apply myself to the solid nonsense of 
 your men of business, as the more ingenious pastime. 
 
SCENE I.] TBE REHEARSAL. 79 
 
 I 
 Smith. I have heard, indeed, you have had lately manj? new 
 ' plays ; and our country witscommend 'em. 
 
 Johns. Ay, so do scJme of our city wits too ; but they are of 
 the nevir kind of wits. ' 
 
 Smith. New kind ! what kind is that ? 
 , Johns. Why, your virtuousi ; your civil persons, your drolls ; 
 fellows that scorn to imitate nature ; but are given altogether to 
 "eleVate and surprise. 
 
 Simth. Elevate and surprise ! prithee, make me understand 
 the meaning of that. 
 ' Johns. Nay, by my troth, that's a hard matter : I don't 
 understand that myself. 'Tis a phrase they have got among 
 them, to express theii". no-meaning by. I'll tell you, as near as I 
 can, what it is. Let me see ; 'tis fighting, loving, sleeping, 
 rhyming, dying, dancing, singing, crying; and everything, but , 
 thinking and sense. ' 
 
 Mr. Bayes passes over the stage. 
 
 B ayes. Yoxxr most obsequious, and most observant, very 
 servant, sir. 
 
 Johns. Odso, this is an author. I'll go fetch him to you. 
 
 Smith. No, prithee let him alone. 
 ■ ' Johns. Nay, by the Lord, I'll have him. \_Goes after him. 
 Herft he is ; I have caught him. Pray, sir, now for my sake, 
 will you doa favour to this friend of mine ? 
 
 Bayes. Sir, it is not within my small capacity to do favours, 
 but receive 'em ; especially from a person that( does wear the 
 honourable title you are pleased to impose, sir, upon this — 
 sweet sir, your servant. 
 
 Smith. Your humble servant, sir. 
 
 Johns. But wilt thou do me a favour, now? , 
 
 Bayes. Ay, sir, what is't ? 
 - Johns. Why, to tell him the meaning of thy last play. 
 
 Bayes. How, sir, the meaning ? Do you mean the plot : 
 
 Johns. Ay, ay ; anything. 
 
 Bayes. Faith, sir, the intrigo's now quite out of my head ; but 
 I have a new one in my pocket that I may say is a virgin ; it 
 ' has jnever yet been blown upon. I must tell yoii one thing : 'tis 
 all new wit, and, though I say it, a better than my last ; and you 
 know well enough how that took. In fine, it shall read, and 
 write, and act, and plot, and show, ay, and pit, box, and gallery, 
 figad, with any play in Europe.* This morning is its last 
 rehearsal, in their habits, and all that, as it is to be acted ; and 
 if you and your friend will do it but the honour to see it in its 
 virgin attire ; though, perhaps, it may blush, 1 shall riot be 
 
 * The usual language of the Honourable Edward Howard, Esq. , at the 
 rehearsal of his plays, 
 
8o THE REHEARSAL. [act i, 
 
 ashamed to discover its nakedness Unto you. I think ifis in 
 this pocket. \Ptits his hand in his pocket. 
 
 yohns. Sir, I confess I am not able to answer you in this new 
 way ; but if you please to lead, I shall be glad to follow you, and - 
 I hope my friend will do so too. 
 
 Smith. Sii', I have no business so considerable as should keep 
 me from your company. 
 
 Bayes. Yes, here it is. No, cry you mercy : this Js my book of 
 Drama Commonplaces, the mother of many other plays. . 
 
 Johns. Drama Commonplaces ! pray what's that ? 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir, some certain helps that we men of art have 
 found it convenient to make use of. 
 
 Smith. How, sir, helps for wit .' 
 
 Bayes. Ay, sir, that's my position. And I do here aver that 
 no man yet the sun e'er shone upon has parts sufficient to 
 furnish out a stage, except it were by the help of these my rules.* 
 
 Johfis. What are those rules, I pray ? 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir, my first rule is the rule of transversion, or 
 Regiila Duplex ; changing verse into prose, or prose into verse, 
 alternative as you please. 
 
 Smith. Well ; but how is this done by a rule, sir? 
 
 Bayes. Why thus, sir ; nothing so easy when understood. I 
 take a book in my hand,, either at home or elsewhere, for that's 
 all one ; if there be any wit in't, as- there is no book but has 
 some, I transverse it ; that is, if it be prose, put it into verse 
 (but that takes up some time), and if it be verse, put it into 
 prose. 
 
 JohTts. Methinks, Mr. Bayes, that putting verse into prose 
 should be called transprosing. 
 
 Bayes. By my troth, sir, 'tis a very good notion ; and 'h^re- . 
 after it shall be so. , 
 
 Smith. Well, sir, and what d'ye do with it then ? 
 
 Bayes. Make it my own. 'Tis so changed that no man can 
 know it. My next rule is the rule of record, by way of table- 
 book. Pray observe. 
 
 Johns. We hear you, sir ; go on. 
 
 Bayes. As thus. I come into a coffee-house, or some other 
 place where witty men resort, I make as if I minded nothing ; 
 do you mark ? but as soon as any one speaks, pop I slap it down, 
 and make that too my own. 
 
 Johns. But, Mr. Bayes, are you not sometimes in danger of 
 
 * He who writ this, not without pain and thought. 
 From French and English theatres has brought 
 Th' exactest rules, by which a play is wrought. 
 The unity of action, place, and time ; 
 The scenes unbroken ; and a mingled chime. 
 Of Johnson's humour, with Corneille's rhyme. 
 
 Prologue io the Maiden Queeii. 
 
SCENE' I.] THE REHEARSAL. 8i 
 
 their making you restore, by force, what you Have gotten thus by 
 'art? . , ' , 
 
 ' Bayes. No, sir ; the world's unmindful, : they never take 
 notice of these things. 
 
 ^mith. But pray, Mr. Bayes, among all your other rules, have 
 you no one rule for invention ? 
 
 ' Bayes. Yes, sir, that's my third rule that I have here in my 
 pocket. 
 
 Smith. What rule can that be, I wonder ? 
 , Bayes. Why, sir, when T have anything to invent, I never 
 trouble my head about it, as other men do ; but presently turn 
 over this book, and there I have, at one view, all that Persius, 
 Montaigne, Seneca's Tragedies, Horace, Juvenal, Claudian, 
 Pliny, Plutarch's Lives, and the rest, have ever thought upon 
 ' this. subject : and so, in a trice, by leaving out a few words, or 
 putting in others of my own, the business is done. 
 
 Johjis. Indeed, Mr. Bayes, this is as sure and compendious a 
 way of wit as ever I heard, of. 
 
 Bayes. Sir, if you make the least scruples of the efficacy of 
 these my rules, do but come to the playhouse, and you shall 
 judge of 'em by the effects. 
 , Smith. We'll follow you, sir. {Exeunt. 
 
 Enter thi'ee Players on the stage. 
 
 1st Play. Have you your part perfect ? 
 
 ind Play. Yes, I have it without book ; but I don't understand 
 how it is to be spoken. 
 
 yd Play. And mine is such a one, as I can't guess for my 
 life what humour I'm to be in; whether angry, melancholy,, 
 merry, or in love. I don't know what to make on't. 
 
 \st Play. Phoo ! the author will be here presently, and he'll, 
 tell us all. You must know, this is the new way of writing, and 
 these hard things please forty times better than the old plain 
 way. For, look you, sir, the grand design upon the stage is to 
 keep the auditors in suspense ; for to guess presently at the plot, 
 and the sense, tires them befoi-e the end of the first act : now 
 here, every line surprises yOu, and brings in new matter. And 
 then, for scenes, clothes, and dances, we put quite down all that 
 ever went before us ; and those are the things, you know, that 
 are essential to a play. 
 
 ind Play. Well, I am not of thy mind; but, so it gets us 
 money, 'tis no great matter. . ■ 
 
 Enter Bayes, Johnson, and Smith. 
 
 Bayes. Come, come in, gentlemen. You're very welcome, 
 Mr. — a — . Ha' you your part ready ? 
 
82 THE REHEARSAL. [acti. 
 
 1st Play. Yes, sir. ' 
 
 Bayes. But do you understand the true humour of it ? 
 
 jst Play. Ay, sir, pretty well. / 
 
 Bayes. And Amaryllis, how does she do ? does not her armour 
 become her ? 
 
 ■^rd Play. Oh, admirably ! 
 
 ■Bayes. I'll tell you now a pretty conceit. What do you thinic 
 I'll make 'em call her anon, in this play ? 
 
 Smith. What, I pray ? 
 
 Bayes. Why, I make 'erh call her Armaryllis, because of her 
 armour : ha, ha, ha ! ' ■ ' 
 
 Johns. That will be very well indeed. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, His a pretty little i-ogue ; but — a — come, let's 
 sit down. Look you, sirs, the chief hinge of this play, upon 
 which the whole plot moves and turns, and that causes the" 
 variety of all the several accidents, which, you know, are 
 the things in nature that make up the grand refinement of. 
 a play, is, that I -suppose two kings of the same place ; as for 
 example, at Brentford, for I love to write familiarly. Now the 
 people having the same relations to 'em both, the same affec- 
 tions, the^ same duty, the same obedience; and all that, are 
 divided among themselves in point of devoir and interest, how 
 to behave themselves equally between 'em : these kings differing 
 sometimes in particular ; though, in the ma,in, they agree. (I know 
 not whether I make myself well understood.) 
 
 Johns. I did not observe you, sir : pray say that again. ' , 
 
 Bayes. Why, look you, sir (nay, I beesech you be a little 
 curious in taking notice of this, or else you'll never understand 
 my notion of the thing), the pebple being embarrass'd by their 
 equal ties to both, and the sovereigns concern'd in a reciprocal 
 regard, as well to their own interest, as the good bf the people, 
 make a certain kind of a-^'you understand me — upoii which, 
 there do arise several disputes, turmoils, heart-burnings, and all 
 that — in fine, you'll apprehend it better when you see it.' 
 
 ' [Exit, to call the Players. 
 
 Sinith. I find the author will be very much obliged to the? 
 players, if thtey can make 'any sense out of this. 
 
 Enter Bayes. 
 
 Bayes. Now, gentlemen, I would fain ask your opinioij of one . 
 thing. I have made a prolbgile and an epilogue, which may 
 both serve for either ; that is, the prologue for the epilogue, or 
 the epilogue for the prologue ;* (do you mark?) nay, they may. 
 both serve too, egad, for any other play as well as this. 
 
 Smith. Very well ; that's indeed artificial. 
 
 * See the two prologues to the "Maiden Queen." 
 
scene' i'.] THE REHEARSAL. ' ' S3 
 
 , , Bayes. And, I would fain ask your judgments, now, which of 
 th^tn would do best for the prologue ? for, you must know there 
 is, 'in nature, but two ways of making very good prologues : the 
 one is by civility, by insinuation, good language, and all, that, to 
 — a— ^in a manner, steal your plaudit from the courtesy of the 
 auditors : the otlier, by making uste of some certain personal 
 things, which may keep, a hank upon such censuring pej'sons, as 
 cannot otherways, egad, in nature, be hindered from being too 
 free with their tongues. To which end, my first prologue is, 
 that I come out in a long black veil, and a great huge hangman 
 tiehind me, with a furr'd cap, and his sword draw-n ;, and there 
 tell 'etn plainly, that if out of good-nature, they will not like my 
 play, egad, I'll e'en kneel down, and he shall cut my head off. 
 Whereupon they all clapping — a — 
 
 Smith. Ay, but suppose they don't. 
 ,, Bayes. Suppose ! pir, you may suppose what you please ; 1 
 have nothing to do with your suppose, sir ; nor sxa at all 
 mortified at it ; not at all, sir ; egad, not one jot, sir. Suppose, 
 quoth-a ! — ha, ha, ha ! ' [ Walks away. 
 
 jtokns. Phoo ! prithee, Bayes, don't mind what he says ; he is 
 a fellow newly come out of the country, he knows nothing of 
 what's the relish, here, of the town. 
 
 Bayes. If I writ, air, to please the country, I should have 
 folloVd the old plain way; but I write for some' persons of 
 quality, and peculiar friends of mine, that linderstand what 
 flame and power in writing is ; and they do me the right, sir, to 
 approvp of what I do. 
 . Johns. Ay, ay, they will clap, I warrant you ; never fear it. 
 
 Bayes. I'm sure the design's good ; that cannot be' denied. 
 And then, for language, egad, I defy 'em all, in nature, to mend 
 it. Besides, sir, I have printed above a hundred sheets of 
 paper to insinuate the plot into the boxes ; * and, withal, have 
 appointed two or three dozen of my friends to be ready in the 
 pit, who, I'm sure, will clap, and so the rest, you know, must 
 follow ; and then, pray, sir, what becomes of your suppose ? Ha, 
 ha,1ia ! , ' 
 
 Johns. Nay, if the business be so well laid, it canpot miss. 
 
 Bayes. I think so, sir ; and therefore would choose this to be 
 the prologue. For, if I' could engage 'em to clap, before they 
 , see the play, you know it would be so much the better ; because 
 tjien they were engag'd ; for let a man write ever so well, there 
 are,' nowra-days, a sort of persons they call critics, that, egad, 
 have no more wit in them than so many hobby-horses ; but 
 they'll laugh at you, sir, and find fault, arid censure things that, 
 
 * There were printed papers given the audience before the aqdng the 
 "Indian Emperor;" telling them that it was the sequel of the "Indian 
 Queen," part of which play was written by Mr. Bayes, &c. 
 
84 ' THE REHEARSAL. . [act i. 
 
 egad, I'm sure, they are not able to do theftiselves. A sort of • 
 envious persons that "emulate the glorie? of persons of part^,.' 
 and think to build their fame by calumniating' of persons * that^ 
 egad, to my knowledge, of all persons in the world, are, in 
 nature, the persons that do as much despise all that as — a — In 
 fine, I'll say no more of 'em. 
 
 Johns. Nay, you have said enough of 'em, in all conscience ; 
 I'm sure more than they'll e'er be able to answer. 
 
 Baye%. Why, I'll tell you, sir, sincerely and bond fide, were it 
 not for the sake of some ingenious persons and choice female 
 spirits, that have a value for me, I would see 'em all hang'd, , 
 egad, before I would e'er more set pen to paper, but let 'em 
 live in ignorance like ingrates. 
 
 Johns. Ay, marry ! that were a way to be reverig'd' of 'em 
 indeed ; and, if I were in your place, now, I would do so. 
 
 Bayes. No, sir ; there are certain ties upon me that I cannot 
 be disengag'd from ;t otherwise, I would. But pray, sir, how do '- 
 you like my hangman ? ' . 
 
 Smith. 15y my troth, sir, I should like him very well.- 
 
 Bayes. By how do you like it, sir .^ (for, I see, you can judge) i 
 would you have it for a prologue, or the epilogue 'i 
 
 Johhs. Faith, sir, 'tis so good,, let it e'en serve for both. >i 
 
 Bayes. No, no ; t;hat won't do. Besides, I have made another. 
 
 Johns. What other, sir ? 
 
 Bqyes. Why, sir, my other is Thunder and Lightning. 
 
 Johns. That's greater ; I'd rather stick to that, 
 
 Bayes. Do you think so? I'll tell you then; tho' there have 
 been many vixtVj prologues written of late, yet, I think, you'll 
 say this is a iwn pareillo : I'm sure nobody has hit upon it yet. 
 For here, sir, I make my prologue to be a dialogue; and as, in 
 my first, you see, I strive to oblige the auditors by civility, by 
 good-nature, good language, and all that ; so, in this, by the ' 
 other way, in terrorem, I choose for the persons Thunder and 
 Lightning. Do you apprehend the conceit ? 
 
 Johns. Phoo, phoo ! then you have it cock-sure. They'll be 
 hang'd before they'll dare affront an author that has 'em at that 
 lock. 
 
 Bayes. I have made, too, one of the most delicate dainty 
 similes in the whole world, egad, if I knew but how to apply it. 
 
 * " Persons, egad, I vow to Gad, and all that," is the constant style of, 
 Failer in the " Wild Gallant :" for which, take this short speech, instead of 
 many : 
 
 "Frailer. Really, madam, I look upon you, as a person of such worth, and 
 all that, that I vow' to Gad, I honour you of all persons in the world ; and 
 tho' I am a person that am inconsiderable in the world, and all that, madapi,, 
 yet for a person of your worth and excellency I would," &c.^— "Wild 
 Gallant," p. 8. 
 
 t He contracted with the King's company of actors, in the year i668, for 
 a whole share, to write them four plays a year. ' 
 
SCENE I.] ' TliE REHEARSAL. 85 
 
 -Smith. Let's liear it, I pray you. 
 Bayes. 'Tis an allusion to love. 
 I - * " So boar and sow,- when any storm is nigh, 
 
 Snuff up, and smell it gath'ring in the sky ; 
 Boar beckons so\y to trot in chestnut-groves, 
 And there coiisummate their unfinish'd loves : 
 Pensive in mud they wallow all alone, 
 And snore and gruntle to each other's moan.'' 
 Hjow do ybu like it now, ha? 
 
 Johns. Faith, 'tis extraordinary fine ; and very applicable to 
 
 Thuiider and Lightning, methinks, because it speaks of a storm. 
 
 Bayes. Egad, and so it, does, now I think on't : Mr. Johnson, 
 
 I thank you ; and I'll put it in profecto. Come out, Thunder 
 
 • and Lightning. 
 
 Enter THUNDER and LIGHTNING. 
 
 Thicn. I am the bold Thunder. 
 , Bayes. Mr. Cartwright, prithee speak that a little louder, and 
 with a hoarse voice. I am the bold Thunder : pshaw I speak it 
 me in a voice that thunders it out indeed : I am the bold 
 Thunder. 
 
 Thuji. I am the bold Thunder.\ 
 
 Light. The brisk Lightning, L 
 
 Bayes. Nay, you must be quick and nimble. 
 The brisk Lightning, I. That's my meaning. 
 
 Thun. T am the bravest Hector of the sky. 
 . Light. And I fair Helen, that made Hector die. 
 
 Thun. I strike men down. 
 
 Light. I fire the town. 
 ' Thun. Let critics take heed how they grumble, 
 For then begin I for to rumble. 
 
 Light. Let the ladies allow us their graces, 
 
 Or I'll blast all the paint on their faces, 
 , And dry up their petre to soot. 
 
 Thun. Let the critics look to't. 
 
 Light. Let the ladies look to't.J 
 
 * In ridicule of this : 
 
 " So two kind turtles, when a storm is nigh, 
 Look tip, and see it gathering in the sky ; 
 Each calls his mate to shelter in'the groves, 
 Leaving, in murmurs, their unfinish'd loves ; 
 Perch'd on some dropping branch, they sit alone. 
 And coo, and hearken to each other's moan." 
 
 "Conquest of Granada," Part ii. p. 48. 
 t " I am the, evening dark as night." — "Slighted Maid," p. 49. 
 ' X " Let ttie men 'ware the ditches. 
 Maids look to their breeches. 
 We'll scratch them with briars and thistles." — "Slighted Maid," p. 49. 
 
86 , THE REHEARSAL. ' [actji,' 
 
 Tkim. For Thunder will do't., 
 Light. For Lightning will sihoot. 
 Thun. I'll give you dash for dash. , 
 Light. I'll give you flash for flash. 
 
 Gallants, I'll singe your feathei 
 7%&««. I 'ir thunder you together. ' / , 
 
 Both. Look to't, look to't ; we'll do't,, we'll do't. Look to't, 
 ■ we'll do't. \Twice or thrice repeated. _ 
 
 \Exeunt anj.bp. ' 
 Bayes. There's no more. 'Tis but a flash of a prologue : a_ 
 droll. 
 
 Smith. Yes, 'tis shbrt indeed ; but very terrible. 
 Bayes. Ay, when the simile's in, it will do to 9. miracle, egad. ' 
 Come, come, begin the play. '■ . 
 
 Enter FIRST PLAYER. 
 
 l^tP'lay. Sir, Mr. Ivory is not come yet ; but he'll be here 
 presently, he's but two doors off.* , 
 
 Bayes. Colne then, gentlemen, let's go out and lake a pipe, of 
 tobacco. , \Exeunt'.f, 
 
 ACT II.— Scene I. 
 Bayes, Johnson, and Smith. 
 
 Bayers. Now, sir, because I'll do nothing here that ever was 
 done before, instead of beginning with a scene that discovers 
 something of the plot, I begin this play with a whisper.f 
 
 Smith. Umph ! very new indeed. 
 
 Bayes. Come, take your seats. Begin, sirs. 
 I 
 
 Enter Gentleman-Usher ««rf Physician. 
 
 Phys. Sir, by your habit, I should guess you to be the Gentle- 
 man-usher of this sumptuous place. ' 
 Vsh. And by your gait and fashion, I should almost suspect 
 
 * Abraham lyory had formerly been a considerable actor of women's ■ 
 parts ;' but afterwards stupefted himself so far, with drinking strong w'ateiB, 
 that, before the first acting of thris farce, he was fit for nothing but to go of 
 errands ; for which, and mere charity, tlie company allowed him a weekly 
 salary. 
 
 t Drake, Sen. ' ' Draw up our men ; ' 
 
 And in low whispers give our orders out." 
 
 "Play House to be Let," p. too. 
 
 See the " Ainorous Prince," pp. 20, 22, 39, 69, where all the chief com- 
 mands, and directions, are givetr in whispers. 
 
SCENE I.] THE REHEARSAL. 87 
 
 you rule the healths of both our noble kinigs, under the notion of 
 Physician. ' 
 
 Phys. You hit my function rights 
 
 Ush. And you mine. 
 , Phys. Then let's embrace. 
 
 Ush. Come; 
 ,,; Phys. Come. 
 
 Jqhns. Pray, sir, who are those so very civil persons ? ^ 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir, the gentleman-usher and physician of the 
 two kings of Brentford. ' 
 
 Johns. But, pray then,, how comes it to pass, that they know 
 one another no better ? 
 
 Bayes. Phoo ! that's for the better 'carrying on of the plot. 
 ' ■ Johns. Very well. 
 
 Phys. Sir, to conclude. 
 ' - Smith. What, before he begins ? 
 
 Bayes. No, sir, you must know they had been talking of this 
 a pretty while without. 1 
 
 Sintth. Where ? in the tyring-room ? 
 ■ Btiyes. Why, ay, sir. He's so dull ! come, speak again. 
 
 Phys. Sir, to conclude, the place you fill has more than 
 amply exacted the talents of a wary pilot; and all these 
 threat'ning storms, which, hke impregnate clouds, hover o'er 
 our heads, will (when they once are grasped but by the eye of 
 reason) melt into fruitful showers of blessings on the people. 
 
 Bayes. Pray mark that allegory. Is not that good .'' 
 
 Johns. Yes, that grasping of a storm with the eye is admir- 
 able. 
 
 , Phys. But yet some rumours great are stirring ; and if Lorenzo 
 should, prove false (which none but the great gods can tell), you 
 
 then perhaps would find that \Whtspers. 
 
 , Bayes. Now he whispers. 
 
 Ush. Alone do you ,say .■■ 
 
 ' yPhys. No, attended with the noble [Whispers. 
 
 , Bayes. "Again. 
 
 Ush. Who, he in grey .'' 
 
 Phys. Yes, and at the head of [Whispers. 
 
 Bayes. Pray niark. ! 
 
 I Ush. Then, sir, rnost certain 'twill in time appear, 
 These are the reasons that have mov'd him to't ; 
 First, he [ Whispers. 
 
 Baye^^ Ndw the other whispers. 
 
 Ush. Secondly, they [ Whispers. 
 
 Bayes. At it still. 
 
 Ush. Thirdly, and lastly, both he and they [Whispers. 
 
 Bayes. Now they both whisper. [Exeunt whispering. 
 
 Now, gentlemen, pray tell me true, and without flattery, is not 
 this a very odd beginning of a play .' 
 
88 THE REHEARSAL. ' [act ji. 
 
 yohts. In troth, I tbiak rt is, sir. But why two king^s of the 
 same place ? , ; 
 
 Baj/es. Why, because it's new, and that's it I aim at. I despise 
 your Jonson and Be'aumorit, that borrowed all they writ from 
 nature : I am for fetchi'ng it purely out of my own fancy, I. 
 
 Smith. But what think you of Sir John Suckling? 
 
 Bayes. By gad, I am a better poet than he. 
 
 Smith. Well, sir, but pray why all this whispering ? , 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir (besides that it is new, as I told you before), 
 because they are supposed to be politicians, and matters of 
 state ought not to be divulg'd. 
 
 Smith. But then, sir, why ' 
 
 Bayes. Sir, if you'll but respite your curiosity till the end of 
 thfe fifth act, you'll find it a piece of patience not ill recompensed.' 
 
 \Goes,to the door. 
 
 Johns. How dost thou like this, Frank .? Is it not just as I 
 told thee.? , * , 
 
 Smith. Why, I never did before this see anything in nature,' 
 and all that (as Mr. Bayes says) so foolish, but I could give some 
 guess at what moved the fop to do it ; but this, I confess, does go 
 beyond my reach. 
 
 Johns. It is all alike: Mr. WintershuU* has informed me of 
 this play already. And I'll tell thee, Frank, thou shalt not see 
 one scene here worth one farthing, or like anything thou canst 
 imagine has ever been the practice of the world. And then, 
 when he comes to what he calls good language, it is, as I told ^ 
 thee, very fantastical, most abominably dull, and not one word , 
 to the purpose. 
 
 Smith. It dpes surprise me, I'm sure, very much. 
 
 Joh>is. Ay, but it won't do so long : by that time thou hast 
 seen a play or two, that I'll show thee, thou wilt be pretty vjell ', 
 acquainted with this new kind of foppery. 
 
 Smith. Plague on't, but there's no pleasure in him : he's too 
 gross a fool to be laugh'd at. 
 
 Enter Bayes. " ' 
 
 Johns. I'll swear, Mr. Bayes, you have done this scene most 
 admirably ; tho' I must tell you, sir, it is a very difficult matter 
 to pen a whisper well. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, gentlemen, when you come to write yourselves, on 
 my word, you'll find it so. 
 
 Johns. Have a care of what you say, Mr. Bayes ; for Mr. 
 Smith there, I assure you, has written a great many fine things 
 already. 
 
 * Mr. Waiiam WintershuU was a most excellent, judicious actor ; and ' 
 the best instructor of others ; he died in July, 1679. 
 
SCENE ii.J THE REHEARSAL. ' 8^ 
 
 Bayes. Has he, i'fackins ? why then pray, sir, how do yOu do 
 when you write ? 
 
 Smith. Faith, sir, for the most part, I am in pretty good health. 
 '_ ' Bayes. Ay, but I mean, what do you do when you write ? 
 
 Smith.- I take pen, ink,, and paper, and sit down. 
 -- Bayes. Now 1 write standing; that's one thing; and then 
 'another thing is, with what do you prepare yourself? 
 . ' Smith. Prepare myself ! what the devil does the fool mean ? 
 ■ \ Bayes. Why, I'll tell you, now, what I do. If I am to write 
 familiar things, as sonnets to Armida, and the like, I make use , 
 of stew'd prunes only : but, when I have a grand design in hand, 
 I ever take physic, and let blood ; for, when you would have 
 pure swiitness of thought, and fiery flights of fancy, you must 
 have a care of the pensive part. In fine, you must purge the 
 stomach. 
 
 ' Smith. By my troth, sir, this is a most admirable receipt for 
 vjriting., . > 
 
 Bayes. Ay, 'tis my secret ; and, in good earnest, I think one 
 ' of the best I have. 
 
 Smith. In good faith, sir, and that may very well be. 
 '■/Bayes. May be, sir? Egad, I'm sure on't : Experto crede 
 Roberto. But I must give you this caution by the way, be sure 
 you never take snuff,* when you write. 
 
 Smith. Why so, sir ? - 
 
 Bayes. Why, it spoil'd me once, egad, one of the sparkiShest 
 plays in all England. But a friend of mine, at Gresham College, 
 has promised to help me to some spirit of brains, and, egad, 
 that shall do my business. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter the two Kings, hand in hand. 
 
 Bayes. Oh, these are now the two kings of Brentford ; take 
 notice of their style, 'twas never yet upon the stage : but if you 
 like it, I could make a shift perhaps to show you a whole play, 
 writ all just so. 
 
 istKing. Did you observe their whispers, brother king ? 
 ind King. I did, and heard, besides, a grave bird sing. 
 That they intend, sweetheart, to play us pranks. 
 
 Bayes. This is now familiar, because they are both persons of 
 the same quality. 
 
 ' ■( Smith. S'death, this would make a man sick. 
 \st King. If that design appears, 
 
 I'll lug them by the ears, 
 Until I make 'em crack. 
 
 * He was a great taker of snuff ; and made most of it himself. 
 
90 ,, ''THE REHEARSAL. " .■ [Acril. 
 
 2nd King. And so will I, i'fack. ' . , 
 
 , \st King. You must begin, Mafoy. 
 
 ipd King. Sweet sir, Pardonnez moy^ 
 
 JBayes. :Mark that ; I make 'em both speak French, to show 
 their breeding. 
 
 Johns. Oh, 'tis extraordinary fine ! 
 
 7,iid King. Then spite of fate, we'll thus combined stand, 
 And, like two brothers, walk still hand in hand. 
 
 , \_Exeunt Reges. 
 
 Johns. This is a majestic scene indeed. 
 
 .Bayes. Ay, 'tis a crust, a lasting crust for your rogue-critics, 
 egad : I would fain see the proudest of 'em all but dare to 
 nibble at this ; egad, if they do, this shall rub their gums for 
 'em, I promise you. It was I, you must know, that hav? written 
 a whole play just in this very same style ; it was never acted yet. 
 
 Johns. How so ? , , . 
 
 Bayes. Egad, I can hardly tell you for laughing : ha,, ha, 1x3. ! 
 it is so pleasant a story : ha, ha, ha ! , 
 
 Smith. What is't .? 
 
 Bayes. Egad, the players refuse to act it. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Smith. That's impossible !, ' , , 
 
 Bayes. Egad, they did it, sir; point-blank refus'd it, egad; ha, 
 ha, ha ! , * 
 
 , Johns. Fie, that was rude. ^v 
 
 ^ay«j. Rude ! ay, egad, they are the rudest, ' unci villest' 
 .persons, and all that, in the whole world, egad. Egad, there'^ 
 no living with 'em. J have written, Mr. Johnsoii, I do verily 
 believe, a whole cartload of things, every whit as good as this ; 
 and yet, I vow to gad, these insolent rascals have turn'd 'em all 
 back upon my hands again. 
 
 Johns. Strange fellows indeed ! 
 , Smith. But pray,, Mr. Bayes, how came these two kings to 
 know of this whisper ? for, as I remember, they were not present 
 at it. \ . ' 
 
 Bayes: No, but that's the actors', fault, and not mine ; for the; 
 two kings, should (a plague take 'em) have popp'd both their heads > 
 in at the door, just as the other went off. , 
 
 Smith. That indeed would have done it. ,,' 
 
 Bayes. Done it ! ay, egad, these fellows are able to spoil the 
 best things in Christendom. I'll tell you, Mr. Johnson, I. vow. to 
 gad, I have been so highly disoblig'd by the peremptoriness of 
 these fellows, that I'm resolved hereafter to bend my thoughts 
 wholly for the service of the nursery, and mump your proud 
 players, egad. So, now Prince Prettyman comes in, and falls 
 asleep, making love to his mistress; which you laiow was, a 
 grand intrigue in a late play, v^ritten by a very honest gentleman, 
 8t knight.* , I , , 
 
 * "The Lost Lady," by Sir Robert Stapleton. 
 
SCfiNE III.] THE REHEARSAL. '. 91 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Eiiter Prince Prettyman. 
 
 Fret. How strange a captive am I grown of late ! 
 Shall I accuse my love, or blame my fate ! 
 My love, I cannot ; that is too divine : 
 And against fate what mortal dares repine ? * 
 
 Enter Chloris. 
 
 But here she comes. 
 
 Sure 'tis some blazing comet ! is it not ! [Lies down. 
 
 Bayesi Blazing comet ! mark that, egad, very fine ! 
 
 'Fret. But I am so surpris'd with sleep, I cannot speak the 
 
 rest. isieeps. 
 
 ^ayes. Does not that,, now, sui-prise you, to fall asleep in the 
 
 nick ? his spirits exhale with the heat of his passion, and all 
 
 that, and swop he falls asleep, as you see. Now here she must 
 
 make a simile. 
 
 Smith. Where's the necessity of that, Mr. Bayes ? 
 Bayes. Because she's surpris'd. That's a general rule ; you 
 must ever make a simile when you are surpris'd ; 'tis the new 
 way of writing. 
 
 Claris.* As some tall pine, which we on yEtna find 
 T' have stood the rage of many a boist'rous wind, 
 Feeling without that flames within do play. 
 Which would consume his root and sap away ; 
 He spreads his worsted arms unto the skies, 
 Silently grieves, all pale, repines and dies . 
 So shrouded up, your bright eye disappears. 
 Break forth, bright scorching sun, and dry my tears. 
 
 iExit. 
 yohns. Mr. Bayes, methinks this simile wants a little 
 ajjplication too. 
 
 Bayes. No, faith ; for it alludes to passion, to consuming, to 
 dying, and all that ; which, you know, are the natural effects of 
 
 ' * Compare this with Prince Leonidas in " Marriage A-la-mode." 
 t In imitation of this passage : — 
 
 ' ' As some fair tulip, by a storm opprest, 
 Shrinks up, and folds its silken arms to rest; 
 And, bending to the blast, all pale, and dead, 
 Hears from within the wind sing round its head : 
 So shrouded up youir beauty disappears ; 
 Unveil, my love, and lay aside your fears : 
 The storm, that caus'd your fright, is past and gone." 
 
 ' ' Conquest of Granada, " Part i.' p. 55. 
 
9z THE REHEARSAL. [act 1 1.. 
 
 an amour. But I'm afraid this scene has made you sad ; for, I 
 must confess, when I writ it, I wept myself. 
 
 Smith. No truly, sir, my spirits are almost exhal'd too, and 
 I am likelier to fall asleep. 
 
 Prince Prettyman starts up, and says — 
 
 Fret. It is resolved ! \Exit. 
 
 Bayes. That's all. ' \ 
 
 Smith. Mr. Bayes, may one be so bold as to ask you one 
 question, now, and you not be angry ? 
 
 Bayes. O Lord, sir, you may ask me anything ; what you 
 please ; I vow to gad, you do me a great deal of honour ■ you 
 do not know me, if you say that, sir. 
 
 Smith. Then pray, sir, what is it that this prince here has 
 resolved in his sleep ? ./ ■ 
 
 Bayes. Why, I must confess, that question is well enough^-; 
 asked, for one that is not acquainted with this new way of 
 writing. But you must know, sir, that to outdo all my fellow- 
 writers, ^whereas they keep their intrigo secret, till the very last' 
 scene before the dance ; I now, sir (do you mark me ?) — a — 
 
 Smith. Begin the play, and end it, without ever opening the 
 plot at all ? 1 , * . 
 
 Bayes. I do, so, that's the very plain truth on't : ha, h^, ha! 
 I do, egad. If they cannot find it out themselves, e'en let 'em 
 alone for Bayes, I warrant you. But here, now, is a scene of . 
 business : pray observe if; for I dare say you'll thipk it no un-' 
 wise discourse this, nor ill argued. To tell you true, 'tis a dis- : 
 course I overheard once betwixt two grand, sober, governing 
 persons. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Enter Gentleman-Usher and Physician. 
 
 Ush. Come, sir ; let's state the matter of fact, and lay our 
 heads together. 
 
 Phys. Right ; lay our heads together. I love to be merry 
 sometimes ; but when a knotty point comes, I lay my head close 
 to it, with a snuff-box in my hand ; and then 1 fegue it away, 
 i'faith. ' - 
 
 Bayes. I do just so, egad, always. 
 
 Ush. The grand question is, whether they heard us whisper? 
 which I divide thus. 
 
 Phys. Yes, it must be divided so indeed. 
 
 Smith. That's very complaisant, I swear, Mr. Bayes, to be of 
 another man's opinion, before he knows what it is. . • ' 
 
 Bayes. Nay, I bring in none here but well-bred persons, \ 
 assure you. 
 
• SCENE IV.] THE REHEARSAL. 93. 
 
 Ush.. I divide the question into whe'n tliey heard, what they 
 heard, and whether they heard or no. 
 
 JoJt4is. Most. admirably divided, I swear ! 
 Ush. As to the, when ; you say, just now : so that is answer'd. 
 Then, as for what ; why, that answers itself ; for what could 
 they hear, but what we talk'd of? so that, naturally, and of 
 necessity, we come to the last question, videlicet, whether they 
 heard or no. 
 
 Smith. This is a very wise scene. Mr. Bayes. 
 . ' Bayes. Ay, you have it right ; they are both politicians. 
 
 Ush. Pray, then, to proceed in method, let me ask you that 
 question. 
 Phys. No, you'll answer better ; pray let me ask it you. 
 Ush. Your will must be a law. 
 Phys. Come, then, what is't I must ask '> 
 Smith. This politician, I perceive, Mr. Bayes, has somewhat 
 a short memory. 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir, you must know, that t'other is the main 
 politician, and this is but his pupil. 
 
 Ush. You must ask me whether they heard us whisper. 
 Phys. Well, I do so. 
 Ush. Say it then. 
 
 Smith. Heyday ! here's the bravest work that ever I saw. 
 Johns. This is mighty methodical. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, sir ; that's the way ; 'tis the way of art ; there -is 
 nO other way, egad, in business. 
 ' Phys. Did they hear us whisper? 
 
 Ush. Why, tjuly, I can't tell ; there's much to be said upon the 
 word whisper f to whisper in Latin is susurrare, which is. as 
 much as to say, to speak softly ; now, if they heard us speak 
 softly, they heard us whisper ; but then comes in the quomocio, 
 the how J how did they hear us whisper? why as to that, there 
 are two ways : the one, by chance or accident ; the other, on , 
 purpose ; that is, with design to hear us whisper. 
 
 Phys. Nay, if they heard us that way, I'lli never give them 
 physic more. 
 
 Ush. ' Nor I e'er mpre will walk abroad before 'em. 
 Bayes. Pray mark this, for a great deal depends _upon it, 
 towards the latter end of the play. 
 
 Smith. I suppose that's the reason why you brought in this 
 scene, Mr. Bayes. 
 
 ■ Bayes. Partly, it was, sir ; but I confess I was not unwilling, 
 besides, to show the world a pattern, here, how men should talk 
 of business. 
 Johns. You have done it exceeding well indeed. 
 Bayes. Yes, I think this will do. 
 
 Phys. Well, if they heard us whisper, they will turn us out, 
 dnd nobody else will take us. 
 
94 , THE REHEARSAL. [act ir. 
 
 Smith. 'Not for politicians, I dare answer for it. 
 Phys. Let's then no more ourselves in vain bemoan : 
 
 We are not safe until we them unthrone. 
 Ush. 'Tis right ; 
 
 And, since occasion now seems debonair, 
 
 I'll seize on this, and you shall take that chair. 
 
 \They draw their swords, and sit in the two great 
 
 chairs up07i the stage. 
 
 Bayes. There's now an odd surprise ; the whole state's turned 
 
 quite topsy-turvy, without any pother or stir in the whole world, 
 
 egad.* / 
 
 Johns. A very silent change of government, truly, as ever I 
 heard of. 
 
 Sayes. It is so. , And yet you shall see me bring 'em in againi 
 by-and-by, in as odd a way every jot. 
 
 \_The Usurpers march out, flourishiftg their swords. 
 
 Enter Shirly. 
 
 Shir. Heyho ! heyho ! what a change is here ! heyday, heyday ! 
 I know not what to do, nor what to say.f {Exit. 
 
 * Such easy turns of state are frequent in our modern plays ; where we 
 see princes dethroned, and governments changed, by very feeble means, and 
 on slight occasions; particularly in "Marriage A-la-mode;'' a play writ 
 since the first publication of this farce. Where (to pass by the dulness of , 
 the state-part, the obscurity of the comic, the near resemb^nce Leonidas 
 bears to our Prince Prettyman, being sometimes a king's son, sometimes a 
 shepherd's ; and not to question how Amalthea comes to be a princess, ,her 
 brother, the Jcing's great favourite, being but a lord) it is worth our while to 
 observe, huw easily the fierce and jealous usurper is deposed, and the right > 
 heir placed on the ' throne ; and it is thus related by the said imaginary 
 princess : — 
 
 " Amalth. Oh, gentlemen ! if you have loyalty, 
 Or courage, show it now. Leonidas, 
 Broke on a sudden from his guards, and snatching 
 A sword from one, his back against the scaffold, , 
 Bravely defends himself ; and owns aloud 
 ^ He is our long lost king, found for this moment ; 
 
 ' But', if your valours help not, lost for ever. 
 Two of his guards mov'd by the sense of virtue. 
 Are turn'd for him ; and there they stand at bay. 
 Against a host of foes." — " Marriage A-la-rhode, " p. 6i. > 
 This shows Mr. Bayes to be a man of constancy, and firm to his resolution, 
 and not to be laughed out of his own method ; agreeable to what he says in 
 the next act ; "As long as I know my things are good, what care I what 
 they say?" 
 t " 1 know not'what to say, or what to think ! 
 I know not when I sleep, or when I wake ! " — 
 
 ' ' Love and Friendship, '' p. 46,' > 
 " My doubts and fears my reason do diismay : , 
 
 I know not what to do, or what to say." — "Pandora," p. 46. 
 
SCENE v.] ■ THE REHEARSAL. ^ 95 
 
 Johns. Mr. Bayes, in my opinion, now, that gentleman might 
 have said a littje more upon this occasion. 
 
 Bayes. No, sir, not at all ; for I underwrit his part on purpose 
 to set off the rest. 
 ■ Johns. Cry you mercy, sir. 
 
 Smith. But pray, sir, how came they to depose the kings so 
 easily? , , , 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir, you must know, they long had a design to 
 do It before J but never could put it in practice till now : and to 
 teir you true, that's one reason why I made 'em whisper so at 
 first. 
 ' Smith. Oh, very well ; now I'm fully satisfied. 
 
 Bayes. KnA then to show you, sir, it was not done so very 
 easily neither, in the next scene you shall see some fighting. 
 
 Smith. Oh, oh ; so then you make the struggle to be after the 
 business is done ? 
 
 Bayes. Ay. 
 
 Smith. Oh, I conceive you : that, I swear, is very natural. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 Enter four Men at One door, and four at another, with 
 their swords dr'awn. 
 
 1st Sold. Stand. Who goes there ? 
 
 2ud Sold. A friend. 
 
 1st Sold. What friend? 
 
 2nd Sold. A friend to the house. 
 
 1st Sold. Fall on ! [They all kill one another. 
 
 {Music strikes. 
 . Bayes. Hold, hold. \To the music. It ceases. 
 
 Now, here's an odd surprise ; all these dead men you shall see 
 rise up presently, at a cei'tain note that I have, in effautflat, 
 and fall a-dancing. Do you hear, dead men ? remember your 
 note in effautflat. 
 
 Play on. ' \To the music. 
 
 Now, now, now ! \The ?misic plays his note, and the d^ad men 
 
 rise ; but cannot get in order. 
 O Lord ! O Lord,! Out, put, out ! did ever men spoil a good 
 thing so ! no figure, no ear, no time, nothing. Udzookers, you 
 dance worse than the angels in " Harry the Eighth," or the fat 
 spirits in the " Tempest," egad. 
 
 , 1st Sold. Why, sir, 'tis impossible to do anything in tiiiie, to 
 this tune. , 
 
 Bayes. O Lord, O Lord ! .impossible ! Why* gentlemen, if 
 there be a!ny faith in, a person that's a Christian, I sat up two 
 whole nights in composing this air, and apting it for the 
 business ; for, if you observe, there are two several designs in 
 
96 THE REHEARSAL. [act hi. 
 
 this tune f it begins swift, and ends slow. You talk of time, and 
 time ; you shall see me do it. Look you, now : here I am dead. 
 
 \Lies down fiat u^on his face. 
 Now mark my note effautflat. Strike up, music. 
 Now. \_As he rises up hastily, he falls down againj 
 
 Ah, gadzookers ! I have broke my nose. 
 
 Johns. By my troth, Mr. Bayes, this is a very unfortunate 
 note of yours, in effaut. 
 
 Bayes. A plague on this old stage, with your nails, and' 
 your tenter-hooks, that a gentleman can't come to teach-yOu to 
 act, but he must break his nose, and his face, and the devil and 
 all. Pray, sir, can you help me to a wet piece of brown paper ? 
 
 Smith. No, indeed, sir, I don't usually carry any about me. 
 
 2nd Sold. Sir, I'll go get you some within presently. 
 
 Bayes. Go, go, then ; I follow you. Pray dance out the dance, 
 and I'll be with you in a moment. Remember you dance like 
 horse-men. \_Exii BAYES. 
 
 Smith. Like horse-men ! what a plague can that be ?- 
 
 They dance the dance, but can make nothing of it, 
 
 \st Sold. A devil ! let's try this no longer. Play my dance 
 
 that Mr. Bayes found fault with so. [Dance, and Exeimti 
 
 Smith. What can this fool be doing all this while about nis 
 
 nose 
 
 Johns. Prithee let's go see. \_Exeuit.t. 
 
 ACT HI.— Scene I. 
 Bayes with a paper on his nose, and the two Gentlemen. 
 
 Bayes. Now, sirs, this I do, because my fancy, in this play, 
 is, to end every act with a dance. 
 
 Smith. Faith, that fancy is very good ; but I should hardly 
 have broke my nose for it, tho'. 
 
 Johns. That fancy I suppose is new too. 
 
 Bayes. Sir, all. my fancies are so. I tread upon no man's 
 heels ; but make my flight uppn my own wings, I assure you. ► 
 Now, here comes in a scene of sheer wit, without any mixture 
 in the whole world, egad ! between Prince Prettynian and his 
 tailor : it might properly enough be call'd a prize of wit ;,,for. 
 you shall see them come in one upon another snip-snap, hit for 
 hit, as fast as can be. First, one speaks, then presently t'other's 
 upon him, slap, with a repartee ; then he at him again, dash 
 with a new conceit ; and so eternally, eternally, egad, till they go 
 quite off the stage. {Goes to call the Players, 
 
SCENE I.] THE REHEARSAL. 97' 
 
 Smith. What a plague does this fop mean, by his snip snap, 
 hit for hit, and dash ! " 
 
 Johns. Mean ! why, he never meant anything in's life ; 
 what dost talk of meaning for ? 
 
 Enter Bayes. 
 Bnyes. Why don't you come in ? 
 
 ' Enter Prince Prettyman and Tom Thimble.* 
 
 This scene will make you die with laughing, if it be well acted, 
 for 'tis as full of drollery as ever it can hold. 'Tis like an 
 orange stufFd with cloves, as for conceit. 
 
 Pret. But prithee, Tom Thimble, why wilt thou needs marry > 
 if nine tailors make but one man, what work art thou cutting 
 out here for thyself, trow ? 
 
 Bayes. Good. 
 
 Thim. Why, an't please your highness, if I can't make up all 
 the work I cut out, I shan't want journeymen enow to help me, 
 I warrant you. 
 
 Bayes^ Good again. 
 
 Pret. I . am afraid thy journeymen, tho', Tom, won't work 
 by the day. 
 
 Bayes. Good still. 
 
 Thim. However, if my wife sits but as I do, there will be no 
 great danger : not half so much as when I trusted you, sir, for 
 your coronation-suit. 
 
 Bayes. Very good, i'faith. 
 
 Pret. Why the times then liVd upon trust ; it was the fashion. 
 You would not be out of time, at such a time as that, sure : a 
 tailor, you know, must never be out of fashion. 
 
 Bayes. Right. 
 
 Thim. I'm sure, sir, I made your clothes in the court-fashion, 
 for you never paid me yet. 
 
 Bayes. There's a bob forthe court.f 
 
 Pret. Why, Tom, thou art a sharp rogue when then art angry, 
 I see : thou pay'st me now, methinks. 
 
 Bayes. There's pay upon pay ! as good as ever was written, 
 , egad ! 
 
 • Prince Prettyman and Tom Thimble ; Failer, and Bibber his tailor, in 
 the "Wild Gallant," pp. 5, 6. 
 t "Nay, if that be all, there's no .such haste. The courtiers are not so 
 - forward to pay their debts." — "Wild Gallant," p. 9. 
 
 D 
 
98 THE REHEARSAL. [Act hi. 
 
 Thim. Ay, sir, in your own coin ; you give me nothing but 
 words.* 
 
 Bayes. Admirable ! 
 
 Pret. Well, Tom, I hope shortly I shall have another coin for 
 thee ; for now the wars are coming on, I shall grow to be a man 
 of metal. 
 
 Bayes. Oh, you did not do that half enough. 
 
 Johns. Methinks he does it admirably. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, pretty well ; but he does not hit me in't : he does 
 not top his part.f 
 
 Thim. That's the way to be stamp' d yourself, sir. I shall see 
 you come home, like an angel for the king's evil, with a hole 
 bor'd thro' you. {Exeunt. 
 
 Bayes. Ha, there he has hit it up to the hilts, egad ! How do 
 you like it now, gentlemen ? is not this pure wit ? 
 
 Smith. 'Tis snip-snap, sir, as you say ; but methinks not 
 pleasant, nor to the purpose ; for the play does not go on, 
 
 Bayes. Play does not go on ! I don't know what you mean': 
 why, is not this part of the play ? 
 
 Smith. Yes ; but the plot stands still. 
 
 Bayes. Plot stand still ! why, what a devil is the plot good 
 for, but to bring in fine things .' 
 
 Smith. Oh, I did not know that before. 
 
 Bayes, No, I think you did not, nor many things more, that I 
 am master of Now, sir, egad, this is the bane of all us writers ; 
 let us soar but never so little above the common pitch, egad, 
 all's spoil'd, for the vulgar never understand it ; they can never 
 conceive you, sir, the excellency of these things. 
 
 Johns. 'Tis a sad fate, I must confess ; but you write on still 
 for all that ! 
 
 Bayes. Write on ? Ay, egad, I warrant you. 'Tis not their 
 talk shall stop me ; if they catch me at that lock, I'll give them 
 leave to hang me. As long as I know my things are good,' 
 what care I what they say ? What, are they gone without sing- 
 ing my last new song ? 'sbud would it were in their bellies- I'll : 
 tell you, Mr. Johnson, if I have any skill in these matters, f vow 
 to gad this song is peremptorily the .very best that ever yet was 
 
 * " Take a little Bibber, 
 
 And tiirow him in the river; 
 
 And if he will trust never, 
 
 Then there let him lie ever. 
 Bibber. Then say I, 
 
 Take a little Failer, 
 
 And throw him to the jailer, 
 
 And there let him lie 
 
 Till he has paid his tailor." — "Wild Gallant," p. 12. 
 t A great word with Mr. Edward Howard. 
 
SCENE I.] THE REHEARSAL. g^ 
 
 written : you must know it was made by Tom Thimble's first 
 wife after she was dead. 
 
 Smith. How, sir, after she was dead ? 
 
 Bayes. Ay, sir, after she was dead. Why, what have you to 
 say to that .? . 
 
 Johns. Say ? why nothing, He were a devil that had any- 
 thing -to say to that. 
 
 Bayes, Right. 
 
 Smith. How did she come to die, pray, sir ? 
 
 Bayes. Phoo ! that's no matter ; by a fall : but here'r, the 
 conceit, that upon his knowing she was kill'd by an accident, he 
 supposes, with a sigh, that she died for love of hira. 
 
 Johns. Ay, ay, that's well enough; let's hear it, Mr. Bayes. 
 
 Bayes. 'Tis to the tune of " Farewell, fair Armida ;" on seas, 
 and in battles, in bullets, and all that. 
 
 Song.* 
 
 In swords, pikes, and bullets, 'tis safer to be. 
 
 Than in a strong castle, remoted from thee : 
 
 My death's bruise pray think you gave me, tho' a fall 
 
 Did give it me more from the top of a wall : 
 
 For then if the moat on her mud would first lay, 
 
 And after before you my body convey : 
 
 The blue on my breast when you fiappen to see. 
 
 You'll say with a sigh, there's a true blue for me. 
 
 Ha-, rogues ! when I am merry, I write these things as fast as 
 hops, egad ; for, you must know, I am as pleasant a cavaUer 
 - as ever you saw ; I am, i'faith. 
 ■ Smith. But, Mr. Bayes, how comes this song in here ? for 
 methinks there is no great occasion for it. 
 
 Bayes. Alack, sir, you know nothing ; you must ever interlard 
 your plays with songs, ghosts, and dances, if you mean to — 
 a — 
 
 Johns. Pit, box, and gallery,t Mr. Bayes. 
 
 • In imitation of this : — 
 
 "On seas, and in battles, through bullets and fira, 
 The danger is less, than in hopeless desire ; 
 My death's wound you gave me, tho' far off I bear 
 My fall from your sight, not to cost you a tear : 
 But if the kind flood on a wave would convey. 
 And under your window my body would lay ; 
 When the wound on my breast you happen to see. 
 You'll say with a sigh, it was given by me." 
 This is the latter part of a song, made by Mr. Bayes on the death of 
 Captain Digby, son of George, Earl of Bristol, who was a passionate admirer 
 of the Duchess Dowager of Richmond, called by the author Armida. He 
 lost his life in a sea-fight against the Dutch, the 28th of May, 1672. 
 1 Mr, Edward Howard's words. 
 
 D 3 
 
loo THE REHEARSAL. [act hi. 
 
 Bayes. Egad, and you have nick'd it. Harkyou, Mr. Johnson, 
 you know I don't flatter ; egad, you have a great deal of wit. 
 
 Johns. O Lord, sir, you do me too much honour. 
 
 Bayes. Nay, nay, come, come, Mr. Johnson, i'faith this must 
 not be said amongst us that have it. I know you have wit, by 
 the judgment you make of this play ; for that's the measure we 
 go by : my play is my touchstone. When a man tells me such 
 a one is a person of parts : is he so ? say I ; what do I do, but 
 bring hira presently to see this play : if he likes it, I know what 
 to think of him ; if not, your most humble servant, sir ; I'Jl no 
 more of him, upon my word, I thank you. I am Clara voyant, 
 egad. Now here we go on to our business. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter the two Usurpers,* hand in hand. 
 
 Ush. But what's become of Volscius the Great ; 
 
 His presence has not grac'd our court of late. 
 Phys. I fear some ill, from emulation sprung, 
 
 Has from us that illustrious hero wrung. 
 Bayes, Is not that majestical ? 
 
 Smith. Yes, but who the devil is that Volscius ? * 
 
 Bayes. Why, that's a prince I make in love with Parthenope. 
 Smith. I thank you, sir. 
 
 Enter Cordelio. 
 
 Cor. My lieges, news from Volscius the prince. 
 
 Ush. His news is welcome, whatsoe'er it be.f 
 
 Smith. How, sir, do you mean whether it be good or bad ? 
 
 Bayes. Nay, pray, sir, have a little patience : gadzookers, 
 you'll spoil all my play. Why, sir, 'tis impossible to answer 
 every impertinent question you ask. 
 
 Smith. Cry you mercy, sir. 
 
 Cor. His highness, sirs, commanded me to tell you, 
 That the fair person whom you both do know, 
 Despairing of forgiveness for her fault, 
 In a deep sorrow, twice she did attempt 
 Upon her precious life ; but, by the care 
 Of standers-by, prevented was. 
 
 Smith. Why, vi^hat stuffs here? 
 
 Cor. At last, 
 Volscius the Great this dire resolve embrac'd : 
 His servants he into the country sent, 
 
 * See the two kings in "The Conquest of Granada." 
 \" Albert. Curtius, I've something to deliver to your ear. 
 
 Cur. .-Vnytliing froni Alberto is welcome."— "Amorous Prince," p. 39. 
 
SCENE in.] THE REHEARSAL. i6i 
 
 And he himself to Piccadilly went ; 
 
 Where he's inform'd by letters that she's dead. 
 
 Ush. Dead ! is that possible ? dead ! 
 
 Phys. O ye gods ! lExeunf. 
 
 Bsyes. There's a smart expression of a passion : O ye gods ! 
 that's one of my bold strokes, egad. 
 
 Smith. Yes ; but who's the fair person that's dead ? 
 
 Bayes. That you shall know anon, sir. 
 
 Smith. Nay, if we know at all, 'tis well enough. 
 
 Bayes. Perhaps you may find, too, by-and-by, for all this, that 
 she's not dead neither. 
 
 Smith. Marry, that's good news indeed. 1 am glad of that 
 with all my heart. 
 
 Bayes. Now here's the man brought in that is supposed to 
 havekill'd her. \A great shout within. 
 
 Scene III. 
 Enter Amaryllis, with a book in her hand, and attendants, 
 Ama. What shout triumphant's that ? 
 
 Enter a Soldier. 
 
 Sold. Shy maid, upon the river brink, near Twic'nam town, 
 the false assassinate is ta'en. 
 
 Ama. Thanks to the powers above for this deliverance. I 
 hope, 
 
 Its slow beginning will portend 
 A forward exit to all future end. 
 
 Bayes. Pish ! there you are out ; to all future end ! no, no ; to 
 all future end ! You must lay the accent upon " end," or else 
 you lose the conceit. 
 
 Smith. I see you are very perfect in these matters. 
 ' Bayes. Ay, sir, I have been long enough at it, one would 
 think, to know something. 
 
 Enter Soldiers, dragging in an old Fisherman. 
 
 Ama. Villain, what monster did corrupt thy mind 
 T' attack the noblest soul of human kind .' 
 Tell me who set thee on. 
 
 Fish. Prince Prettyman. 
 
 Ama. To kill whom ? 
 
 Fish. Prince Prettyman. 
 
 Ama. What ! did Prince Prettyman hire you t; kill Prince 
 Prettyman ? 
 
 Fish. No ; Prince Volscius. 
 
 Ama. To kill whom ? 
 
162 
 
 THE REHEARSAL. [act ill 
 
 Fish. Prince Volscius. 
 
 Ama. What! did Prince Volscius hire you to kill Prince 
 Volscius ? 
 
 Fish. No, Prince Prettyman. 
 
 Ama. So drag him hence, 
 
 Till torture of the rack produce his sense. {ExdUnU 
 
 Bayes. Mark how I make the horror of his guilt confound his 
 intellects ; for he's out at one and t'other : and that's the design 
 of this scene. 
 
 Smith. I see, sir, you have a several design for every scene. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, that's my way of writing ; and so, sir, I can dis- 
 patch you a whole play, before another man, egad, can make an 
 end of his plot. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 So now enter Prince Prettyman in a rage. Where the devil 
 is he } why, Prettyman } why, where I say ? O fie, fie, fie, fie ! 
 all's marr'd, I vow to gad, quite marr'd. 
 
 Enter PRETTYMAN. 
 
 Phoo, phoo ! you are come too late, sir ; now yoa may go out 
 again, if you please. I vow to gad, Mr. — a — I would not give 
 a button for my play, now you have done this. , 
 
 Pret. What, sir ? 
 
 Bayes. What, sir ! why, sir, you should have come out in 
 choler, rouse upon the stage, just as the other went off. Must a 
 man be eternally telling you of these things ? 
 
 Johns. Sure this must be some very notable matter that he's 
 so angry at. 
 
 Smith. I am not of your opinion. 
 
 Bayes. Pish ! come let's hear your -part, sir. 
 
 Pret. " Bring in my father : why d'ye keep him from me ? , 
 Altho' a fisherman, he is my father": 
 Was ever son yet brought to this distress, 
 To be, for being a son, made fatherless ! 
 Ah ! you just gods, rob me not of a father : 
 The being of a son take from me rather. \Exit. 
 
 Smith. Well, Ned, "what think you now ? '' 
 
 Johns. A devil, this is worst of all : Mr. Bayes, pray what's 
 the meaning of this scene ? 
 
 Bayes. O cry you mercy, sii : I p:"otest I had forgot to tell 
 you. Why, sir, you must know, that long before the beginning. 
 of this play, this prince was taken by a fisherman. 
 
 Smith. How, sir, taken prisoner ? 
 
 Bayes. Taken prisoner ! O Lord, what a question's there ! 
 
 * See the Prince in " Marrisge A-la-mode.'' 
 
SCENE v.] THE REHEARSAL. 103 
 
 did ever any/man ask such a quetions ? Plague on him, he has 
 put the plot quite out of my head with this — this — question ! 
 what was I going to say ? 
 
 -Jolms. Nay, Heaven knows : I- cannot imagine. 
 
 Bayes. Stay, let me see : taken ! O 'tis true. Why, sir, as I 
 . was going to say, his highness here, the prince, was taken in a 
 cradle by a fisherman, and brought up as his child ! 
 
 Smith. Indeed! 
 
 Bayes. Nay, prithee, hold thy peace. And so, sir, this mur- 
 der being committed by the river-side, the fisherman, upon 
 suspicion, was seiz'd, and thereupon the prince grew angry. 
 
 Smith. So, so ; now 'tis very plain. 
 
 Johns. But, Mr. Bayes, is not this some disparagement to a 
 prince, to pass for a fisherman's son ? Have a care of that, I 
 pray, 
 
 -Bayes. No, no, not at all ; for 'tis but for- a while : I shall fetch 
 him off again presently, you shall see. 
 
 Enter Prettyman a7td Thimble.. 
 
 Pret. By all the gods, I'Jl set the world on fire, 
 Rather than let 'em ravish hence my sire. 
 
 Thim. Brave Prettyman, it is at length reveal'd, 
 That he is not thy sire who thee conceal'd, 
 
 Bayes. Lo, you now ; there, he's off again. 
 
 Johns. Admirably done, i'faith ! 
 
 Bayes. Ay, now the plot thickens very much upon us. 
 
 .P}'et. What oracle this darkness can evince ! 
 
 Sometimes a fisher's son, sometimes a prince. 
 
 It is a secret, great as is the world ; 
 
 In which I, like the soul, am toss'd and hurl'd. 
 
 The blackest ink of Fate sure was my lot, 
 
 And when she writ my name, she made a blot. [Exit. 
 
 Bayes: There's a blustering veise for you now. 
 
 Smith. Yes, sir ; but why is he so mightily troubled to find he 
 is not a fisherman's son ? 
 
 Bayes. Phoo ! that is not tecause he has a mind to be his 
 .son, but for fear he should be thought to be nobody's son at all. 
 
 Smith. Nay, that would trouble a man, indeed. 
 
 Bayes., So, let me see. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 Enter Prince Volscius, going out of town. 
 
 Smiths I thought he had been gone to Piccadilly. 
 Bayes. Yes, be gave it out so ; but that was only to cover his 
 design. 
 Johns. What design ? 
 
104 THE REHEARSAL. [act hi. 
 
 Bayes. Why, to head the army that lies conceal'd for him at 
 Knightsbridge. 
 
 Johns. I see here's a great deal of plot, Mr. Bayes. 
 
 Bayes. Yes, now it begins to break : but we shall have a 
 world of more business anon. 
 
 Enter Prince Volsctus, Cloris, Amaryllis, and Harry, 
 ■with a riding-cloak and boots. 
 
 Ama. Sir, you are cruel thus to leave the town, 
 And to retire to country solitude. 
 
 Clo. We hop'd this summer that we should at least 
 Have held the honour of your company. 
 
 Bayes. Held the honour of your company ; prettily express'd : 
 held the honour of your company ! gadzookers, these fellows will 
 never take notice of anything. 
 
 yohns. I assure you, sir, I admire it extremely ; I don't know 
 what he does. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, ay, he's a little envious ; but 'tis no great matter. 
 Come. 
 
 Ama. Pray let us two this single boon obtain ! 
 
 That you will here, with poor us, still remain ! 
 Before your horses come, pronounce our fate, » 
 For then, alas, I fear 'twill be too late. 
 
 Bayes. Sad ! 
 
 Harry, my boots ; for I'll go range among 
 
 Vols. My blades encamp'd, and quit this urban throng.* 
 
 Smith. But pray, Mr. Bayes, is not this a little difficult, that 
 you were saying e'en now, to keep an army thus conceal'd in 
 Knightsbridge ? 
 
 Bayes. In Knightsbridge ? stay. 
 
 Johns. No, not if the inn-keepers be his friends. 
 
 Bayes. His friends! ay, sir, his intimate acquaintance; or 
 else indeed I grant it could not be. 
 
 Smith. Yes, faith, so it might be very easy. 
 
 Bayes. Nay, if I do not make all things easy, egad, I'll give 
 you leave to hang me. Now you would think that he's going 
 out of town ; but you shall see how prettily I have contriv'd to 
 stop him presently. 
 
 Smith. By my troth, sir, you have so amaz'd me, that I know 
 not what to think. 
 
 * ' ' Let my horses be brought ready to the door, for I'll go out of town this 
 evening. 
 
 Into the country I'll with speed, 
 
 With hounds and hawks my fancy feed, &c. 
 
 Now I'll away, a country life 
 
 Shall be my mistress, and my wife,'" 
 
 "English Monsieur," pp. 36, 38, zq. 
 
SCENE v.] THE REHEARSAL. 105 
 
 Enter Parthenope. 
 
 Vols. Bless me ! how frail are all my best resolves ! 
 How, in a moment, is my purpose chang'd ! 
 Too soon I thought myself secure from love. 
 Fair madam, give me leave to ask her name,* 
 Who does so gently rob me of my fame : 
 For I should meet the army out of town, 
 And if I fail, must hazard my renown. 
 Par. My mother, sir, sells ale by the town-walls ; 
 
 And me her dear Parthenope she calls. 
 Bayes. Now that's the Parthenope I told you of. 
 Johns, Ay, ay, egad, you are very right. 
 Vols. Can vulgar vestments high-born beauty shroud ? 
 Thou bring'st the morning pictur'd in a cloud.t 
 Bayes. The morning pictur'd in a cloud ! ah, gadzookers, what 
 a conceit is there ! 
 Par. Give you good even, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Vols. O inauspicious stars ! that I was born 
 
 To sudden love, and to more sudden scorn ! 
 Ama. ) How ! Prince Volscius in love ? ha, ha, ha ! % 
 Clo. ) [Exeunt laughinj^. 
 
 Smith. Sure, Mr. Bayes, we have lost some jest here, that they 
 laugh at so. 
 
 - Bayes. Why, did you not observe ? he first resolves to go out 
 of town, and then as he's pulling on his boots, falls in love with 
 her ; ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Smith. Well, and where lies the jest of that ? 
 
 Bayes. Ha.' [7><r«j /£> JOHNS. 
 
 Johns. Why, in the boots : where should the jest lie ? 
 
 , Bayes. Egad, you are in the right : it does lie in the boo's 
 
 [Turns to Smith. 
 Your friend and I know where a good jest lies, though you don't, 
 sir. 
 
 Smith. Much good do't you, sir. 
 
 Bayes. Here now, Mr. Johnson, you shall see a combat 
 betwixt love and honour. An ancient author has made a whole 
 play on't ;§ but I have dispatch'd it all in this scene. 
 
 Volscius sits down to pull on his boots : Bayes stands by, and 
 over- acts the part as he speaks it. 
 
 Vols. How has my passion made me Cupid's scoff ! 
 This hasty boot is on, the other off, 
 
 * "And what's this maid's name?" — "English Monsieur," p. 40 
 t "I bring the morning pictur'd in a cloud." — "Siege of Rhodes," parti, 
 p. 10. 
 X " Mr. Comely in love." — " EngUsh Monsieur," p. 49. 
 5. Sir William D'Avenant's play of "Love and Honour." 
 
lo6 THE REHEARSAL. t^-CT III. 
 
 And sullen lies, with amorous design, 
 To quit loud fame, and make that beauty mine. 
 Smith. Prithee, mark what pains Mr. Bayes takes to act this 
 speech himself! 
 
 Joh?ts. Yes, the fool, I see, is mightily transported with it. 
 Vols. My legs the emblem of my various thought 
 Show to what sad distraction I am brought. 
 Sometimes with stubborn honour, like this boot, 
 My mind is guarded, and resolv'd to do't : 
 Sometimes again, that very mind, by love 
 Disarmed, like this other leg does prove. 
 Shall I to honour or to love give way ? 
 Go on, cries honour ;* tender love says, nay ; 
 Honour aloud commands, pluck both boots on ; 
 But softer love does whisper, put on none. 
 What shall I do ! what conduct shall I find. 
 To lead me thro' this twilight of my mind .' 
 For as bright day, with black approach of night 
 Contending, makes a doubtful puzzling light ; 
 So does my honour and my love together 
 Puzzle me so, I can resolve for neither. 
 
 [Goes out hopping, with one boot on, and totken-off. 
 Johns. By my troth, sir, this is as difficult a combat as ever I 
 saw, and as equal ; for 'tis determin'd on neither side. 
 
 Bttyes. Ay, is't not now egad, ha ? for to go off hip-hop, hip- 
 hop, upon this occasion, is a thousand times better than any 
 conclusion in the world, egad. 
 
 Johns. Indeed, Mr. JBayes, that hip-hop, in this place, as you 
 say, does a very great deal. 
 
 Bayes. Oh, all in all, sir ! they are these little things that mar, 
 or set you off a play ; as I remember once in a play of mine, I 
 set off a scene, egad, beyond expectation, only with a petticoat, 
 and the gripes .f 
 Smith. Pray how was that, sir .? 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir, I contriv'd a petticoat to be brought in upon 
 a chair (nobody knew how) into a prince's chamber, whose 
 father was not to see it, that came in by chance. 
 
 Johns. By-my-life, that was a notable contrivance indeed. 
 Smith. Ay, but Mr. Bayes, how could you contrive the stomach- 
 ache? 
 
 Bayes. The easiest i' th' world, egad : I'll tell you how. I 
 made the prince sit down upon the petticoat, no more than so, 
 and pretended to his father that he had just then got the gripes : 
 whereupon his father went out to call a physician, and his 
 man ran away with the petticoat. 
 
 " " But honours says not so." — "Siege of Rhodes," part i. p. 19. 
 t " Love in a Nunnery, " p. 34. ' 
 
SCENE v.] THE REHEARSAL. ' 107 
 
 Smith. Well, and what follow'd upon that ? 
 
 Bayes. Nothing, no earthly thing, I vow to gad, 
 
 Johns. On my word, Mr. Bayes, there you hit it. 
 
 Bayes. Yes, it gave a world of content. And then I paid 'em 
 away besides ; for it made them all talk beastly : ha, ha, ha, 
 beastly ! downright beastly upon the stage, egad, ha, ha, ha ! 
 but with an infinite deal of wit, that I must say. 
 
 Johns. That, ay, that, we know well enough, can never fail 
 you. 
 
 Bayes. No, egad, can't it. Come, bring in the dance. 
 
 \_Exit to call the Players. 
 
 Smith. Now, the plague take thee for a silly, confident, un- 
 natural, fulsome rogue. 
 
 Enter Bayes and Players. 
 
 Bayes. Pray dance well before these gentlemen ; you are 
 commonly so lazy, but you should be light and easy, tah, tah, 
 tah. {All the while they dance, Bayes puts them, out 
 
 with teaching them. 
 Well, gentlemen, you'll see this dance, if I am not deceiv'd, take 
 very well upon the stage, when they are perfect in their motions, 
 and all that. 
 
 Smith. I don't know how 'twill take, sir ; but I am sure you 
 sweat hard for't. 
 
 Bayes. Ay. sir, it costs me more pains and trouble to do these 
 things than almost the things are worth. 
 
 Smith. By my troth, I think so, sir. 
 
 Bayes. Not for the things themselves ; for I could write you, 
 sir, forty of 'em in a day : but, egad, these players are such dull 
 persons, that if a man be not by 'em upon every point, and at 
 every turn, egad, they'll mistake you, sir, and spoil all. 
 
 Enter a Player. 
 
 What, is the funeral ready .■' 
 
 Play. Yes, sir. 
 
 Bayes. And is the lance fill'd with wine ? 
 
 Play. Sir, 'tis just now a-doing. 
 
 Bayes. Stay, then, I'll do it myself. 
 
 Smith. Come, let's go with him. 
 
 Bayes. A match. But, Mr. Johnson, egad, I am not hke other 
 persons; they care not what becomes of their things, so they 
 can but get money for 'em : now, egad, when I write, if it be not 
 just as it should be in every circumstance, to every particular, 
 egad, I am no more able to endure it, I am not myself, I'm out 
 "of my wits, and all that ; I'm the strangest person in the whole 
 world : for what care I for money ? I write for reputation. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
loS THE REHEARSAL. [act iv. 
 
 ACT IV.— Scene I. 
 Bayes, and the two Gentlemen. 
 
 Bayes. Gentlemenj because I would not have any two things 
 alike in this play, the last act beginning with a witty scene of 
 mirth, I make this to begin with a funeral. 
 ' Smith. And is that all your reason for it, Mr. Bayes ? 
 
 Bayes. No, sir, I have a precedent for it besides. A person of 
 honour, and a scholar, brought in his funeral just so ; * and he 
 was one, let me tell you, that knew as weH what belong'd to ;i 
 funeral as any man in England, egad . 
 
 Johns. Nay, if that be so, you are safe. 
 
 Bayes. Egad, but I have another device, a frolic, which I . 
 think yet better than all this ; not for the plot or characters (for, 
 in ray heroic plays, I make no difference as to those matters), 
 but for another contrivance. 
 
 Smith. What is that, I pray 'i 
 
 Bayes. Why, I have design'd a conquest that cannot possibly, 
 egad, be acted in less than a whole week ; and I'll speak a bold 
 word, it shall drum, trumpet, shout, and battle, egad, with any 
 the most warlike tragedy we have, either ancient or modern. f 
 
 Johns. Ay, marry, sir, there you say something. 
 
 Smith. And pray, sir how have you order'd this same frolic of 
 yours t 
 
 Bayes. Faith, sir, by the rule of romance ; for exarnple, they 
 divide their things into three, four^ five, six, seven, eight, or as. 
 many tomes as they please. Now I would very fain know what 
 should hinder me from doing the same with my things, if I 
 please .' 
 
 Johns. N ay, if you should not be master of your own works, 
 'tis very hard. 
 
 ' Bayes. That is my sense. And then, sir, this contrivance of 
 mine has something of the reason of a play in it too ; for as 
 every one makes you five acts to one play, what do I, but make 
 five plays to one plot : by which means the auditors have every 
 day a new thing. 
 
 • Col. Henry Howard, son of Thomas, Earl of Berkshire, made a play 
 called the "United Kingdoms," which began with a fnneral ; and had also 
 two kings in it. This gave the duke a just occasion to set up two kings in 
 Brentford, as it is generally believed ; tho' others are of opinion, that his 
 grace had our two brothers, King Charles and the Duke of York, in his 
 thoughts. It was acted at the Cockpit, in Drury Lane, soon after the 
 Restoration ; but mi;carrying on the stage, the author had the modesty not 
 to print it ; and therefore, the reader cannot reasonably expect any par- 
 ticular passages of it. Others say, that they are Boabdelin and Abdalla, the 
 two contending kings of Granada ; and Mr. Dryden has, in most' of his 
 serious plays, two contending kings of the same place, 
 
 t 1' Conquest of Granada," in two parts. 
 
SCENE I.] THE REHEARSAL. 109 
 
 Johns. Most admirably good, i'faith ! and must certainly take, 
 because it is not tedious. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, sir, I know that ; there's the main point. And 
 then upon Saturday to make a close of all (for I ever begin upon 
 a Monday), I make you, sir, a sixth play that sums up tlje whole 
 matter to 'em, and all that, for fear they should have forgot it. 
 
 Johns. That consideration, Mr. Bayes, indeed I think will be 
 very necessary. 
 
 Smith. And when comes in your share, pray, sir .' 
 
 Bayes. The third week. 
 
 Johns. I vow you'll get a world of money. 
 
 Bayes. Why, faith, a man must live ; and if you don't thus 
 pitch upon some new device, egad, you'll never do't ; for this 
 age (take it o' my word) is somewhat hard to please. But there 
 is one pretty odd passage in the last of these plays, which may 
 be executed two several ways, wherein I'd have your opinion, 
 gentlemen. 
 
 Johns. What is't, sir. 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir, I make a male person to be in love with a 
 female. 
 
 Smith. Do you mean that, Mr. Bayes, for a new thing.' 
 
 Bayes. 'Yes, sir, as I have order'd it. You shall hear : he 
 having passionately lov'd her through my five whole plays, 
 finding at last that she consents to his love, just after that his 
 mother had appeared to him like a ghost, he kills himself : that's 
 one way. The other is, that she coming at last to love him, 
 with as violent a passion as he lov'd her, she kills herself. Now 
 my question is, which of these two persons should suffer upon 
 this occasion ? 
 
 Johns. By my troth, it is a very hard case to decide. 
 
 Bayes. The hardest in the world, egad, and has puzzled this 
 pate very much. What say you, Mr. Smith ? 
 
 Smith. Why truly, Mr. Bayes, if if might stand with your 
 justice now, I would spare 'em both. 
 
 Bayes. Egad, and I think — ha — why then, I'll make him 
 hinder her from killing herself. Ay, it shall be so. Come, 
 come, bring in the funeral. 
 
 Enter a Funeral, with the two Usurpers and Attendants. 
 
 Hay it dowij there ; no, no, here, sir. So now speak. 
 K. Ush. Set down the funeral pile, and let our grief 
 
 Receive from its embraces some relief. 
 .A'. Phys. Was't not unjust to ravish hence her breath, 
 
 And in life's stead, to leave us nought but death ? 
 The world discovers now its emptiness. 
 And by her loss demonstrates we have less. 
 Bayes. Is not this good language now ? is not that elevate ? 
 
no THE REHEARSAL. [act iv. 
 
 'tis my noil ultra, egad ; you must know they were both in love 
 with her. 
 
 Smith. With her ! with whom ? 
 
 Bayes. Why, this is Lardella's funeral. 
 
 Smith. Lardella ! ay, who is she .'' 
 
 ^ayes. Why, sir, the sister of Drawcansir ; a lady that was 
 drown'd at sea, and had a wave for her winding-sheet.* 
 
 K. Ush. Lardella, O Lardella, from above 
 
 Behold the tragic issues of our love : 
 Pity us, sinking under grief and pain, 
 For thy being cast away upon the main. 
 
 Bayes. Look you now, you see I told you true. 
 
 Smith. Ay, sir, and I thank you for it very kindly. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, egad, but you will not have patience ; honest Mr. 
 — a — you will not have patience. 
 
 Johns. Pray, Mr. Bayes, who is that Drawcansir ? 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir, a fierce hero, that frights his mistress, snubs 
 up kings, baffles armies, and does what he will, without regard 
 to numbers, good manners, or justice.f 
 
 Johns. A very pretty character ! 
 
 Smith. But, Mr. Bayes, I thought your heroes had ever been 
 men of great humanity and justice. ^ 
 
 Bayes. Yes, they have been so ; but for my part, I prefer that 
 one quality of singly beating of whole armies, above all your 
 moral virtues put together, egad. You shall see him come in 
 presently. Zookers, why don't you read the paper ? 
 
 [To the Players.. 
 
 K. Phys. O, cry you mercy. {Goes to take the paper. 
 
 Bayes. Pish ! nay you are such a fumbler. Come, I'll- read it 
 myself. {Takes the paper from off the coffin. 
 
 Stay, it's an ill hand, I must use my spectacles. This now. is 
 a copy of verses, which I make Lardella compose just as she is 
 dying, with design to have it pinn'd upon her coffin, and so read 
 by one of the usurpers, who is her cousin. 
 
 Smith. A very shrewd design that, upon my word, Mr. Bayes. 
 
 Bayes. And what do you think now, I fancy her to make love 
 like, here, in this paper ? 
 
 Sinith. Like a woman : what should she make love like } 
 
 Bayes. O' my word you are out tho', sir ; egad you are. 
 
 Smith. What then, like a man ? 
 
 Bayes. No, sir ; like a humble-bee. 
 
 Smith. I confess, that I should not have fancy'd. 
 
 " " On seas I bore thee, and on seas I died, * 
 
 I died : and for a winding-slieet, a wave 
 
 I fiad ; and all tlie ocean for my grave. " 
 
 "Conquest of Granada," part ii. p. 113. 
 t Almanzor in the "Conquest of Granada." 
 
SCENE I.] THE REHEARSAL. ■ in 
 
 _ Bayes. It may be so, sir ; but it is tho', in order to the opi- 
 nion of some of our ancient philosophers, who held the transmi- 
 gration of the soul. 
 Smith. Very fine. 
 
 Bayes. I'll read the title : " To my dear Couz, King Physician." 
 Smith. That's a little too familiar with a king, tho', sir, by 
 your favour, for a humble-bee. 
 
 Bayes. Mr. Smith, in other things, I grant your knowledge 
 may be above me ; but as for poetry, give me leave to say I 
 understand that better : it has been longer my practice ; it has 
 indeed, sir. 
 
 Smith. Your servant, sir. 
 
 Bayes. Pray mark it. \Reads. 
 
 „ ~ : " Since death my earthly part will thus remove, 
 
 I'll come a humble-bee to your chaste love : 
 With silent wings I'll follow you, dear couz ; 
 Or else, before you, in the sunbeams, buz. 
 And when to melancholy groves you come, 
 Ah airy ghost, you'll know me by my hum ; 
 For sound, being air, a ghost does well become ." * 
 Smith (after a pause). Admirable! 
 Bayes. " At night, into your bosom I will creep. 
 And buz but softly if you chance to sleep : 
 Yet in your dreams, I will pass sweeping by, 
 And then both hum and buz before your eye." 
 - .Johns. By my troth, that's a very great promise. 
 
 Smith. Yes, and a most extraordinary comfort to boot. 
 " Bayes. " Your bed of love from dangers I will free ; 
 But most from love of any futnre bee. 
 And when with pity your heart-strings shall crack, 
 With empty arms I'll bear you on my back." 
 
 * In ridicule of , this : — 
 
 "My earthly part, 
 Which is ray tyrant's right, death will remove ; 
 I'll come all soul and spirit to yourlove. 
 With silent steps I'll follow you all day ; 
 Or else before you in the sunbeams play. 
 ■ I'll lead you hence to melancholy groves, 
 And there repeat the -scenes of our past loves ; 
 At night, I will within your curtains peep, 
 With empty arms embrace you, while you sleep. 
 In gentle dreams I often will be by, 
 And sweep along before your closing eye. 
 All dangers from your bed 1 will remove ; 
 But guard it most from any future love. 
 And when at last in pity you will die, 
 I'll watch your birth of immortality : 
 Then, turtle like, I'll to my mate repair, 
 And teach you your first flight in open air." — 
 
 "Tyrannic Love," p. 25. 
 
112 THE REHEARSAL. [act iv. 
 
 Smith. A pick-a-pack, a pick-a-pack. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, egad, but is not that tuani now, ha? is it not 
 tuant ? Here's the end. 
 
 " Then at your birth of immortahty, 
 Like any winged archer hence I'll fly, 
 And teach you your first fluttering in the sky." 
 Johns. Oh, rare ! this is the most natural, refined fancy that 
 ever I heard, I'll swear. 
 
 Bayes. Yes, I think, for a dead person, it is a good way 
 enough of making love ; for, being divested of her terrestrial 
 part, and all that, she is only capable of these little, pretty, 
 amorous designs that are innocent, and yet passionate. Come, 
 draw your swords. 
 K. Phys. Come, sword, come sheath thyself within this breast,- 
 
 Which only in Lardella's tomb can rest. 
 K. Ush. Come, dagger, come and penetrate this heart. 
 Which cannot from Lardella's love depart. 
 
 Enter Pallas. 
 
 Pal. Hold, stop your murd'ring hands 
 At Pallas's commands : 
 For the supposed dead, O kings. 
 Forbear to act such deadly things. 
 Lardella lives ; I did but try 
 If princes for their loves could die. 
 Such celestial constancy 
 Shall, by the gods, rewarded be : 
 And from these funeral obsequies, 
 A nuptial banquet shall arise. 
 
 [ The coffin opens, and a banquet is discovered. 
 Bayes. So, take away the coffin. Now 'tis out. This is the 
 very funeral of the fair person which Volscius sent word was 
 dead ; and Pallas, you see, has turned it into a banquet. 
 Smith. Well, but where is this banquet .-' 
 Bayes, Nay, look you, sir ; we must first have a dance, for joy 
 that Lardella is not dead. Pray, sir, give me leave to bring in 
 my things properly at least. 
 
 Smith. That, indeed, I had forgot ; I ask your pardon. 
 Bayes. Oh, d'ye so, sir ? I am glad you will confess yourself 
 once in an error, Mr. Smith. 
 
 {Patice!\ 
 
 K. Ush. Resplendent Pallas, we in thee do find 
 The fiercest beauty, and a fiercer mind : 
 And since to thee Lardella's life we owe, 
 We'll supple statues in thy temple grow. 
 
SCENE I.] THE REHEARSAL. 113 
 
 K. Phys. Well, since alive Lardella's found, 
 
 Let in full bowls her health go round. 
 
 {The two Usurpers take each of them 
 a bowl in their hands. 
 K. Ush. But Where's the wine ? 
 Pal. That shall be mine. 
 
 Lo, from this conquering lance 
 Does flow the purest wine of France : 
 
 \Fills the bowls out of her lance. 
 And to appease your hunger, I 
 Have in my helmet brought a pie :, 
 Lastly, to bear a part with these, 
 
 Behold a buckler made of cheese.* {Vanish Pallas. 
 Bayes. That's the banquet. Are you satisfied now, sir } 
 , Johns. By my troth now, that is new, and more than I 
 expected. 
 
 Bayes. Yes, I knew this would please you ; for the chief art in 
 poetry is to elevate your expectation, and then bring you off 
 some extraordinary way. 
 
 Enter Drawcansir. 
 
 K. Phys. What man is this that dares disturb our feast .' 
 
 Draw. He that dares drink, and for that drink dares die ; 
 And knowing this, dares yet drink on, am I.t 
 
 Johns. That is, Mr. Bayes, as much as to say, that though he 
 would rather die than not drink, yet he would fain drink for all 
 that too. 
 
 Bayes. Right ; that's the conceit on't. 
 
 Johns. 'Tis a marvellous good one, I swear. 
 
 Bayes. Now, there are some critics that have advis'd me to 
 put out the second dare, and print must in the place on't ;J but, 
 egad, I think 'tis better thus a great deal. 
 
 Johns. Whoo ! a thousand times. 
 
 Bayes. Go on then. 
 
 K. Ush. Sir, if you please, we should be glad to know. 
 
 How long you here will stay, how soon you'll go ? 
 
 Bayes. Is not that now like a well-bred person, egad .' so 
 modest, so gent ! 
 
 Smith. O very like. 
 
 * See the scene in the "Villain.'' Where the host furnishes his guests 
 with a collation out of his clothes ; a capon from his helmet, a tansey out of 
 the lining of his cap, cream out of his scabbard, &c. 
 t In ridicule of this : — 
 
 " Almah. Who dares to interrupt my private walk ? 
 Alman. He who dares love, and for that love must die ; 
 And, knowing this, dares yet love on, am I. " 
 
 "Granada," part ii. pp. 114, 115. 
 X It was at first, "dares die." — Ihid. 
 
ti4 THE REHEARSAL. [act IV. 
 
 Draw. You shall not know how long I here will stay ; 
 But you shall know I'll take your bowls away.* 
 
 [Snatches the bowls out of the kings' hands and 
 
 drinks them off. 
 Smith. But, Mr. Bayes, is that, too, modest and gent ? 
 Bayes. No, egad, sir, but 'tis great. / 
 
 K. Ush. Tho', brother, this grum stranger be a clown. 
 
 He'll leave us sure a little to gulp down. 
 Draw. Whoe'er to gulp one drop of this dare think, 
 I'll stare away his very power to drink.f 
 
 [The two Kings sneak off the stage with 
 
 their attendants. 
 
 I drink, I huff, I strut, look big and stare ; 
 
 And all this I can do because I dare.J [Exit. 
 
 Smith. I suppose, Mr. Bayes, this is the fierce hero you 
 
 spoke of.' 
 
 Bayes. Yes ; but this is nothing. You shall see him in the 
 last act win above a dozen battles, one after another, egad, as 
 fast as they can possibly come upon the stage. 
 
 Johns. That will be a fight worth the seeing, indeed. 
 Smith. But pray, Mr. Bayes, why do you make the kings let 
 him use them so scurvily ? ,, 
 
 Bayes. Phoo ! that's to raise the character of Drawcansir. 
 Johns. O' my word, that was well thought on. 
 Bayes. Now, sirs, I'll show you a scene indeed ; or rather, 
 indeed, the scene of scenes. 'Tis an heroic scene. 
 Smith. And pray, what's your design-in this scene ? 
 Bayes. Why, sir, my design is gilded truncheons, -forc'd con- 
 ceit, smooth verse and a rant ; in fine, if this scene don't take, 
 egad, I'll write no more. Come, come in, Mr. — a — nay, 
 come in as many as you can. Gentlemen, I must desire you 
 to remove a little, for I must fill the stage. 
 Smith. Why fill the stage ? 
 
 Bayes. Oh, sir, because your heroic verse never sounds well 
 but when the stage is full. 
 
 " " Almau. I would not now, if thou wouldst beg me, stay ; 
 But I will take my Almahide away. " — 
 
 "Conquest of Granada," p. 32. 
 t In ridicule of this ; — 
 " Aim an. Thou dar'st not marry her, while I'm in sight ; 
 
 With a bent brow, thy priest and thee I'll friglit : 
 
 And, in that scene, which all thy hopes and wishes should 
 
 content. 
 The thoughts of me shall make thee impotent." — Ibidi p. £. 
 X " Spite of myself, I'll stay, fight, love, despair ; 
 
 And all this I can do, because I dare." — "Tyrannic Love," part ii. p. 89. 
 
SCENE II,] THE REHEARSAL. 115 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter Prince Prettyman and Prince A'olscius. 
 
 Nay, hold, hold ; pray by your leave a little. Look you, sir, the 
 drift of this scene is somewhat more than ordinary ; for I make 
 'em both fall out because they are not in love with the same 
 woman. 
 
 Smith. Not inlove? You mean, I suppose, because they are 
 in love, Mr. Bayes ? 
 
 Bayes. No, sir ; I say not in love ; there's a new conceit for 
 you. Now speak. 
 
 Pret. Since fate. Prince Volscius, now has found the way 
 
 For our so long'd-for meeting here this day, 
 
 Lend thy attention to my grand concern. 
 Vols. I gladly would that story Irom thee learn ; 
 
 But thou to love dost, Prettyman, incline ; 
 
 Yet love in thy breast is not love in mine. 
 Bayes. Antithesis ! thine and mine. 
 Pret. Since love itself s the same, why should it be 
 
 Diffring in you from what it is in me ? 
 Bayes. Reasoning ! egad, I love reasoning in verse. 
 Vols. Love takes, cam^leon-like, a various dye 
 
 From every plant on which itself doth lie. 
 Bayes. Simile ! 
 Pret. Let not thy love the course of nature fright : 
 
 Nature does most in harmony delight. 
 Vols. How weak a deity would nature prove. 
 
 Contending with the powerful god of love ! 
 - Bayes. There's a great verse ! 
 Vols. If incense thou wilt offer at the shrine 
 
 Of mighty Love, burn it to none but mine. 
 
 Her rosy lips eternal sweets exhale ; 
 
 And her bright flames make all flames else look pale. 
 Bayes. Egad, that is right. 
 Pret. Perhaps dull incense may thy love suffice ; 
 
 But mine must be ador'd with sacrifice. 
 
 All hearts turn ashes, which her eyes control : 
 
 The body they consume, as well as soul. 
 Vols. My love has yet a power more divine ; 
 
 Victims her altars burn not, but refine ; 
 
 Amidst the flames they ne'er give up the ghost. 
 
 But, with her looks, revive still as they roast. 
 
 In spite of pain and death they're kept r.livc ; 
 
 Her fiery eyes make 'em in fire survive. 
 Bayes. That is as well, egad, as I can do. 
 Vols. Let my Parthenope at length prevail. 
 
1 16 THE REHEARSAL. [act iv. 
 
 Bayes. Civil, egad. 
 
 Pret. ril sooner have a passion for a whale ; 
 
 In whose vast bulk, tho' store of oil doth lie, 
 We find more shape, more beauty in a fly. 
 Smith. That's uncivil, egad, 
 
 Bayes. Yes ; but as far-fetched a fancy, tlio', egad, as e'er 
 you saw. 
 
 Vols. Soft, Prettyman, let not thy vain pretence 
 Of perfect love defame love's excellence : 
 Parthenope is, sure, as far above 
 All other loves, as above all is Love. 
 Bayes. Ah ! egad, that strikes me. 
 Pret. To blame my Cloris, gods would not pretend — 
 Bayes. Now mark — 
 
 Vols. Were all gods join'd, they could not hope to mend 
 My better choice : for fair Parthenope 
 Gods would themselves un-god themselves to see. * 
 Bayes. Now the rant's a-coming. 
 Pret. Durst any of the gods be so uncivil, 
 
 Pd make that god subscribe himself a devil.t 
 Bayes. Ay, gadzookers, that's well writ ! 
 
 {Scratching his head, his peruke falls ojf. 
 Vols. Could'st thou that god from heaven to earth translate, 
 He could not fear to want a heav'nly state ; 
 Parthenope, on earth, can heav'n create. 
 Pret. Cloris does heav'n itself so far excel. 
 
 She can transcend the joys of heav'n in hell. 
 Bayes. There's a bold flight for you now ! 'sdeath, I have lost 
 my peruke. Well, gentlemen," this is what I never yet saw any 
 one could write, but myself. Here's true spirit and flame all 
 through, egad. So, so, pray clear the stage. 
 
 \He puts 'em off the stage: 
 Johns. I wonder how the coxcomb has got the knack of 
 writing smooth verse thus. 
 
 Smith. Why, there's no need of brain for this : 'tis but 
 
 scanning the labours on the finger ; but where's the sense of it ? 
 
 Johns. Oh ! for that he desires to be excus'd : he is too proud 
 
 * In ridicule of this : — ' 
 
 "Max, Thou liest. There's not a god inhabits there, 
 
 But, for this Christian, would all heaven forswear : 
 Even Jove would try new shapes her love to win, 
 And in new birds, and unknown beasts would sin ; 
 At least, if Jove could love like Maximin." — 
 
 ' ' Tyrannic Love," p. 17. 
 t " Some god now, if he dare relate what pass'd ; 
 
 Say, but he's dead, that god shall mortal be." — Ibid. p. 7. 
 '.' Provoke my rage no farther, lest I be 
 
 Reveng'd at once upon the gods, and thee." — Hid. p. 8. 
 " What had the gods to do with me, or mine." — Ibid. p. 57. 
 
SCENE I.] THE REHEARSAL. < u; 
 
 a man to creep servilely after sense, I assure yqu* But pray, 
 Mr. Bayes, why is this scene all in verse ? 
 
 Bayes. Oh, sir, the subject is too great for prose. 
 
 Smith. Well said, i'faith ; I'll give thee a pot of ale for that 
 answer ; 'tis well worth it. 
 
 Bayes. Come, with all my heart. 
 I'll make that god subscribe himself a devil ; 
 That single line, egad, is worth all that my brother poets ever 
 
 writ. 
 Let down the curtain. ' {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT. v.— Scene I. 
 
 Bayes, and the two Gentlc7nen. 
 
 Bayes. Now, gentlemen, I will be bold to say, I'll show you 
 the greatest scene that ever England saw : I mean not for words, 
 for those I don't value ; but for state, show and magnificence. 
 In fine, I'll justify it to be as grand to the eye every whit, egad, 
 as that great scene in " Harry the Eighth," and grander too, 
 egad ; for instead of two bishops, I bring in here four cardinals. 
 
 [ The curtain is drawn up, the two usurping Kings appear 
 hi state with the four Cardinals, Prince Pretty- 
 man, Prince Volscius, Amaryllis, Cloris, Par- 
 THENOPE, 6-r., before them, Heralds and Sergeanisat- 
 arms, with maces. 
 
 Smith. Mr. Bayes, pray what is the reason that two of the 
 cardinals are in hats, and the other in caps ? 
 
 Bayes. Why, sir, because By gad I won't tell you. Your 
 
 country friend, sir, grows so troublesome — 
 
 K. ilsh. Now, sir, to the business of the day. 
 
 K. Phys. Speak, Volscius. 
 
 Vols. Dread sovereign lords, my zeal to you must not invade 
 my duty to your son ; let me entreat that great Prince Pretty- 
 man first to speak ; whose high pre-eminence in all things, that 
 do bear the name of good, may justly claim that privilege. 
 
 Bayes. Here it begins to unfold ; you may perceive, now, that 
 he is his son. 
 
 Johns. Yes, sir, and we are very much beholden to you for 
 that discovery. 
 
 * " Poets, like lovers, should be bold, and dare ; 
 They spoil their business with an over-care : 
 And he, who servilely creeps a.fter sense. 
 Is safe ; but ne'er can reach to excellence." — 
 
 " Prologue to Tyrannic Love." 
 
n8 THE REHEARSAL. [act v. 
 
 Pret. Royat father, upon my knees I beg, 
 
 That the illustrious Volscius first be heard. 
 Vols. That preference is only due to Amaryllis, sir. 
 Bayes. I'll make her speak very well, by-and-by, you shall see. 
 Ama. Invincible sovereigns — — [Soft mtisi'c. 
 
 K. Ush. But stay, what sound is this invades our ears .'* 
 K. Phys. Sure 'tis the.music of the moving spheres." 
 Pret. Behold, with wonder, yonder comes from far 
 A god-like cloud, and a triumphant car ; 
 In which our two right kings sit one by one, 
 With virgins' vests, and laurel garlands on. 
 K. Ush. Then,' brother Phys., 'tis time we should be gone. 
 
 \The two Usurpers steal out of the throne, and go away. 
 Bayes. Look you now, did not I tell you, that this would be as 
 easy a change as the other .' 
 
 Smith. Yes, faith, you did so ; tho' I confess I could not 
 believe you : but you have brought it about, I see. 
 
 {The two right kings of Brentford descend in the 
 clouds, singing, in white garments j and three 
 fiddlers sitting before them, in green. 
 Bayes. Now, because the two right kings descend from above, 
 I make 'em sing to the tune and style of our modern spirits. . 
 1st King. Haste, brother king, we are sent from above, * 
 2nd King. Let us move, let us move ; 
 Move to remove the fate 
 Of Brentford's long united state.f 
 
 ' ' What various noises do my ears invade ; 
 
 .And have a concert of confusion made?" — " Siege of.Rhodes," p. 4, 
 f In ridicule of this : — 
 
 " Naker. Hark, my Damilcar, we are call'd below. 
 Dam. Let us go, let us go : 
 
 Go to relieve the care, 
 
 Of longing lovers in despair. 
 Naker. Merry, merry, merry, we sail from the east, 
 
 Half tippled at a rainbow feast. 
 Dam. In the bright moonshine, while winds whistle loud, 
 
 Tivy,, tivy, tivy, we mount and we fly. 
 
 All racking along in a downy white cloud ; 
 
 And lest our leap from the sky should prove too far. 
 
 We slide on the back of a new-falling star. 
 Naker. And drop from above. 
 
 In a jelly of love. 
 Dam. But now the sun's down, and the element's red, 
 
 The spirits of fire against us make heart. 
 Naker. They muster, they muster, like gnats in the air : 
 
 Alas ! I must leave thee, my fair ; 
 
 And to my light-horsemen repair. 
 Dam. O stay ! for you need not to fear 'em to-night ; 
 
 The wind Is for us, and blows full in their sight : • 
 
 And o'er the wide ocean we fight. 
 
SCENE I.] THE REHEARSAL. 119 
 
 \st King. Tarra, ran, tarra, full east and by south. 
 "2,11(1 King. We sail with thunder in our mouth, 
 In scorching noon-day, whilst the traveller stays ; 
 Busy, busy,' busy, busy, we bustle along, 
 Mounted upon warm Phoebus's rays, 
 'Through the heavenly throng, 
 
 Hasting to those 
 Who will feast us at night with a pig's petty-toes. 
 \st King. And we'll fall with our plate 
 
 In an ollio of hate. 
 ind King. But now supper's done, the servitors try, 
 
 Like soldiers, to storm a whole half-moon pie. 
 \st King. They gather, they gather hot custards in spoons : 
 But alas, I must leave these half-moons, 
 And repair to my trusty dragoons. 
 ■2nd King. Oh, stay, for you need not as yet go astray : 
 The tide, like a friend, has brought ships in our way, 
 And on their high ropes we will play 
 Like maggots in filberts we'll snug in our shell. 
 We'll frisk in our shell, 
 We'll frisk in our shell. 
 And farewell. 
 1st King. But the ladies have all inclination to dance, 
 
 And the green frogs croak, out a coranto of France. 
 Bayes. Is not that pretty, now ? The fiddlers are all in green. 
 Smith. Ay, but they play no coranto. 
 Johns. No, but they play a tune that's a great deal better. 
 Bayes. No coranto, quoth-a ! that's a good one, with all my 
 heart. Come, sing on. 
 
 2nd King. Now mortals that hear 
 
 How we tilt and career, 
 With wonder will fear - 
 The event of such things as shall never appear. 
 
 Like leaves in the autumn, our foes will fall down. 
 
 And hiss in the water .... 
 Both. And hiss in the water, and drown. 
 Naker. But their men lie securely intrench'd in a cloud, 
 
 And a trumpeter-hornet to battle sounds loud. 
 Dam. Now mortals that spy 
 
 How we tilt in the sky, 
 
 With wonder will gaze ; 
 
 And fear such events as will ne'er come to pass. 
 Naker. Stay you to perform what the man will have done. 
 Dam. Then call me again when the battle is won. 
 Both, So ready arid quick is a spirit of air. 
 
 To pity the lover, and succour the fair, 
 
 That silent and swift, that little soft god, 
 
 Is here with a wish, and is gone with a nod." — 
 
 "Tyrannic Love," |ip. 24, 25. 
 
120 THE REHEARSAL. [ACT V. 
 
 \st King. Stay you to fulfil what the gods have decreed. 
 
 ind King. Then call me to help you, if there shall be need. 
 
 \st King. So firmly resolv'd is a true Brentford king, 
 
 To save the distress'd, and help to 'em to bring, 
 That ere a full pot of good ale you can swallow, 
 He's here with a whoop, and gone with a holla. 
 [Bayes fillips his finger, and sings after them. 
 
 Bayes. " He's here with a whoop, and gone with a holla." 
 This, sir, j^ou must know, I thought once to have brought in 
 with a conjuror.* 
 
 Johns. Ay, that would have been better. 
 
 Bayes. No, faith, not when you consider it ; for thus it is more 
 compendious, and does the thing every whit as well. 
 
 Smith. Thing ! what thing ? 
 
 Bayes. Why, bring 'em down again into the throne, sir. What 
 thing would you have ? 
 
 Smith. Well, but methinks the sense of this song is not very 
 plain ! 
 
 Bayes. Plain ! why, did you ever hear any people in clouds 
 speak plain .' They must be all for flight of fancy at its full 
 range, without the least check or control upon it. When once 
 you tie up spirits and people in clouds, to speak, plain, you 
 spoil all. 
 
 Smith, Bless me, what a monster'sthis ! 
 
 \The two Kings light out of the clouds, and 
 step into the throne. 
 
 \st King. Come, now to serious counsel we'll advance. 
 
 ■2.nd King. I do agree ; but first, let's have a dance. 
 _Bayes. Right. You did that very well, Mr. Cartwright. But 
 first, let's have a dance. Pray remember that ; be sure you do 
 it always just so : for it must be done as if it were the effect of 
 thought and premeditation. But first, let's have a dance ; pray 
 remember that. 
 
 Smith. Well, I can hold no longer, I must gag this rogue, 
 there's no enduring of him. 
 
 Johns. No, prithee make use of thy patience a little longer, 
 let's see the end of him now. , [Dance a grand dance. 
 
 Bayes. This, now, is an ancient dance, of right belonging to 
 the Kings of Brentford ; but since derived, with a little alteration, 
 to the Inns of Court. 
 
 An Alarm. Enter two Heralds. 
 
 l.'it King. What saucy groom molests our privacies ? 
 1st Her. The army's at the door, and in disguise. 
 Desires a word with both your majesties. 
 
 • See "Tyrannic Love," act iv. so. i. 
 
SCENE I.J THE REHEARSAL. 121 
 
 ind Her. Having from Knightsbridge hither marched by- 
 stealth. 
 
 2nd King. Bid 'em attend awhile, and drink our health. 
 
 Smith. How, Mr. Bayes, the army in disguise ! 
 
 Bayes. Ay, sir, for fear the usurpers might discover them, that 
 went out but just now. 
 
 Smith. Why, what if they had discover'd them ? 
 
 Bayes. Why, then they had broke the design. 
 
 Yst King. Here take five guineas for those warlike men. 
 
 7.nd King. And here's five more, that makes the sum just ten. 
 
 \st Her. We have not seen so much, the Lord knows when. 
 
 \Exeunt Heralds. 
 
 1st King. Speak on, brave AmaryUis. 
 
 A7na. Invincible sovereigns, blame not my modesty, if at this 
 grand conjuncture [Drum beats behind the stage. 
 
 1st King. What dreadful noise is this that comes and goes ? 
 
 Enter a Soldier with his sword drawn. 
 
 Sold. Haste hence, great sirs, your royal persons save, 
 For the event of war no mortal knows :* 
 The army, wrangling for the gold you gave. 
 First fell to words, and then to handy-blows. \Exit. 
 Bayes. Is not that now a pretty kind of a stanza, and a hand- 
 some come-off? 
 
 2.nd King. O dangerous estate of sovereign power ! 
 Obnoxious to the change of every hour. 
 \st King. Let us for shelter in our cabinet stay ; 
 
 Perhaps these threatning storms may pass away. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 Johns. But, Mr. Bayes, did not you promise us just now, to 
 make Amaryllis speak very well .■' 
 
 Bayes. Ay, and so she would have done, but that they hinder'd 
 her. 
 
 Smith. How, sir, whether you would or no ? 
 Bayes. Ay, sir, the plot lay so, that I vow to gad, it was not 
 to be avoided. 
 
 Smith. Marry, that was hard. 
 Johns. But, pray, who hinder'd her ? 
 
 In ridicule of this : — 
 
 " Wiiat new misfortunes do these cries presage? 
 ist Mess. Haste all you can, their fury to assuage : 
 
 You are not safe from their rebellious rage. 
 znd Mess. This minute, if you grant not their desire, 
 
 They'll seize your person, and your palace fire." — 
 
 "Granada," part ii. p. 71. 
 
122 THE REHEARSAL. [ACT V. 
 
 Btiyes. Why, the battle, sir, that's just coming in at the door : 
 and I'll tell you now a strange thing; tho' I don't pretend to do 
 more than other men, egad, I'll give you both a whole week to 
 guess how I'll represent this battle. 
 
 Smith. I had rather be bound to fight your battle, I assure 
 you, sir. 
 
 Bayes. Whoo ! there's it now : fight a battle ! there's the 
 common error. I knew presently where I should have you. 
 Why, pray, sir, do but tell me this one thing : can you think it 
 a decent thing, in a battle before ladies, to have men run their 
 . swords thro' one another, and all that ? 
 
 Johns. No, faith, 'tis not civil. 
 
 Bayes. Right ; on the other side, to have a long relation of 
 squadrons here, and squadrons there : what is it, but dull pro- 
 lixity ? 
 
 Johns. Excellently reason'd, by my troth ! 
 
 Bayes. Wherefore, sir, to avoid both those indecorums, I sum 
 up the whole tiattle in the representation of two persons only, 
 no more : and yet so lively, that, I vow to gad, you would swear 
 ten thousand men were at it really engag'd. Do you mark 
 me? 
 
 Smith. Yes, sir : but I think I should hardly swear tho', for all 
 that. •' 
 
 Bayes. By my troth, sir, but you would tho', when you see it-: 
 for I make 'em both come out in armour cap-a-pie, with their 
 swords drawn, and hung with a scarlet ribbon at their wrist ; 
 which, you know, represents fighting enough. 
 
 Johns. Ay, ay ; so much, that if I were in your place, I would 
 make 'em go out again, without ever speaking one word. 
 
 Bayes. No, there you are out ; for I make each of 'em hold a 
 lute in his hand. 
 
 Smith. How, sir, instead of a buckler ? 
 
 Bayes. O Lord, O Lord ! instead of a buckler ? pray, sir, do 
 you ask no more questions. I make 'em, sirs, pla^ the battle in 
 recitativo. And here's the conceit just at the very same instant 
 that one sings, the other, sir, recovers you his sword, and puts 
 himself into a warlike posture : so that you have at once your 
 ear entertain'd with music and good language, and your eye 
 satisfied with the garb and accoutrements of war. 
 
 Smith. I confess, sir, you stupefy me. 
 
 Bayes. You shall see. 
 
 Johns. But, Mr. Bayes, might not we have a little fighting 1 
 for I love those plays where they cut and slash one another upon 
 the stage for a whole hour together. 
 
 Bayes. Why, then, to tell you true, I have contri\''d it both 
 ways : but you shall have my recitativo first. 
 
 Johns. Ay, now you are right ; there is nothing that can be 
 objected against it. 
 
SCENE I.] THE- REHEARSAL. 123 
 
 Bayes-. True : and- so, egad, I'll make it too a tragedy in a 
 trice.* 
 
 Enter at several doors the General and Lieutenant- 
 General, arm'd cap a-pie, with each of them a lute in his 
 hand,- and a sword drawn, and hung with a scarlet ribbo?i 
 at his wrist.-^' 
 
 Lieiit.-Gen. Villain, thou liest ! 
 
 Gen. Arm,' arm, Gonsalvo,! arm, what, ho ! 
 
 The lie no flesh can brook, I trow. . 
 Lieut.-Gen. Advance from Acton with the musqueteers. 
 Gen. Draw down the Chelsea cuirassiers. § 
 ■ Lieut-Gen. The band you boast of Chelsea cuirassiers. 
 
 Shall, in my Putney pikes, now meet their peers. II 
 Gen: Chiswickians, aged and renown'd in fight, 
 
 Join with the Hammersmith brigade. 
 Lieut.-Gen. You'll find my Mortlake boys will do them right, 
 
 Unless by Fulham numbers over-laid. 
 Gen. Let the left wing of Twick'nam foot advance, 
 
 And line that eastern hedge. 
 Lieut.-Gen. The horse I rais'd in Petty-France 
 Shall try their chance, 
 
 And scour the meadows, overgrown with sedge. 
 Gen. Stand : give the word, 
 Lieut.-Gen. Bright sword. 
 Gen. That may be thine. 
 
 But 'tis not mine. 
 
 * "Aglaura," and the "Vestal Virgin," are so contrived by atittle alteration 
 towards the latter end of them, that they have been acted both ways, either 
 as tragedies or comedies. 
 
 f There needs nothing more to explain the meaning of this battle, than 
 the perusal of the first part of the "Siege of Rhodes," which was performed 
 in recitative music, by seven persons only ; and the passage out of the 
 " Playhouse to be Let," 
 \ The " Siege of Rhodes" begins thus : — 
 
 "Admiral. Kx\a, arm, Valerius, arm." 
 § The third entry thus : — 
 
 " Solym. Pyrrhus, draw down our army wide | 
 
 Then, from the gross, two strong reserves divide, 
 And spread the wings. 
 As if we were to fight. 
 In the lost Rhodians' sight. 
 With all the western kings. 
 - Each with Janizaries line ; 
 
 The right and left to Haly's sons assign ; 
 The gross, to Zangiban ; 
 The main artillery 
 To Mustapha shall be ; 
 Bring thou the rear, we lead the van.'' 
 II "More pikes I more pikes I to reinforce 
 
 That squadron, and repulse the horse."—" Playhouse to be Let," p. 72. 
 
124 THE REHEARSAL. [act V. 
 
 LieiU.-Gen. Give fire, give fire, at once give fire, 
 
 And let tho'se-recreant troops perceive mine ire.* 
 
 Gen. Pursue, pursue ; they fly 
 
 That first did give the lie. \Exeukt. 
 
 Bayes. This now is not improper, I think ; because the 
 spectators know all these towns, and may easily conceive them 
 to be within the dominions of the two Kings of Brentford. 
 
 Johns. Most exceeding well design'd ! 
 
 Bayes. How do you think I have contriv'd to give a stop to 
 this battle ? 
 
 Smith. How ? 
 
 Bayes. By an eclipse ; which, let me tell you, is a kind of 
 fancy that was yet never so much as thought of, but by myself, 
 and one person more, that shall be nameless. 
 
 Enter Lieutenant-General. 
 
 Lieut.-Gen. What midnight darkness does invade the day, 
 ■ And snatch the victor from his conquer'd prey .■' , 
 Is the sun weary of this bloody fight. 
 And winks upon us with the eye of light ! 
 'Tis an eclipse ! this was unkind, O moon. 
 To clap between me and the sun so soon. 
 Foolish eclipse ! thou this in vain hast done ; 
 My brighter honour had eclips'd the sun : 
 But now behold eclipses two in one. \E.xit. 
 
 Johns. This is an admirable representation of a battle as ever 
 I saw. 
 
 Bayes. Ay, sir ; but how would you fancy now to represent an 
 eclipse ? 
 
 Smith. Why, that's to be suppos'd. 
 
 Bayes. Suppos'd ! ay, you are ever at your suppose : ha, ha, 
 ha! why, you may as well suppose the whole play. No, it 
 must come in upon the stage, that's certain ; but in some odd 
 way, that may delight, amuse, and all that. I have a conceit 
 for't, that I am sure is new, and I believe to the purpose. 
 Johns. How's that? 
 Bayes. Why, the truth is, I took the first hint of this out of a 
 
 * ' ' Point all the cannon, and play fast ; , 
 
 Their fury is too hot to last. 
 
 That rampire shaltes ; they fly into the town. 
 Pyr. March up with those reserves to that redoubt ; 
 
 Faint slaves, the Janizaries reel ! 
 
 They bend ! they bend ! and seem to feel 
 
 The terrors of a rout. 
 Must. Old Zanger halts, and reinforcement lacks. 
 Pyr. March on ! 
 Must. Advance those pikes, and charge their backs. "-:- 
 
 "Siege of Rhodes." 
 
SCENE I.] . THE REHEARSAL. 125 
 
 dialogue between Phoebus and Aurora, in the " Slighted Maid," 
 which, by my troth, was very pretty ; but I think you'd confess 
 this is a little better. 
 
 Johns. No doubt on't, Mr. Bayes, a great deal better. 
 
 [Bayes hu^s Johnson, then turns to Smith. 
 
 Bayes. Ah, dear rogue ! But — a — sir, you have heard, I 
 suppose, that your eclipse of the moon is nothing else but an 
 interposition of the earth between the sun and moon ; as likewise 
 your eclipse of the sun is caus'd by an interlocation of the moon 
 betwixt the earth and the sun. 
 
 Smith. I have heard some such thing indeed. 
 
 Bayes. Well, sir, then what do 1 but make the earth, sun, and 
 tnoon come out upon the stage, and dance the hey. Hum ! and 
 of necessity, by tlie very nature of this dance, the earth must be 
 sometimes between the sun and the moon, and the moon 
 between the earth and sun : and there you have both eclipses by 
 demonstration. 
 . Johns. That must needs be very fine, truly. 
 
 Bayes. Yes, it has fancy in't. And then, sir, that there may 
 be something in't, too, of a joke, I bring 'em in all singing ; and 
 make the moon sell the earth a bargain. Come, come out, 
 eclipse, to the tune of " Tom Tyler." 
 
 Enter LUNA. 
 
 Luna. Orbis, O Orbis ! 
 
 Come to me, thou Uttle rogue, Orbis. 
 
 Enter the Earth. 
 
 Orb. Who calls Terra-firma, pray ? * 
 LAina. Luna, that ne'er shines by day. 
 Orb. What means Luna in a veil ? 
 Luna. Lunb, means to show her tail. 
 Bayes. There's the bargain. 
 
 Enter Sol, to the tune of" Robin Hood." 
 
 SoL Fie, sister, fie ; thou makest me muse, 
 
 Derry down, deny down, 
 To see thee Orb abuse. 
 
 In ridicule of this : — .... 
 
 ••Phceb. Who calls the world 9 great light I 
 Aur. Aurora, that abhors-the night. 
 Phcei. Why does Aurora, from her cloud. 
 To drowsy Phoebus cry so loud ? " — 
 
 "Slighted Maid," p. 8. 
 
126 THE REHEARSAL. [acT'V. 
 
 Luna. I hope his anger 'twill not move ; 
 Since I show'd it out of love. 
 
 Hey down, derry down. 
 Orb. Where shall I thy true love know, 
 
 Thou pretty, pretty moon ? 
 Lima. To-morrow soon, ere it be noon, 
 
 On Mount Vesuvio.* 
 5o/. Then I will shine \To the tune of ^' Txsaz\vmox^^' Bis. 
 Orb. And I will be fine. 
 
 Luna. And I will drink nothing but Lippara wine.f 
 Omnes. And we, &c. \As they dance the hey, Bayes speaks. 
 Bayes. Now the earth's before the moon : now the moon's 
 before the sun : there's the eclipse again. 
 Smith. He's mightily taken with this, I see. 
 Johns. Ay, 'tis so extraordinary, how can he choose .'' 
 Bayes. So, now, vanish eclipse, and enter t'other battle, and 
 fight. Here now, if I am not mistaken, you will see fighting 
 enough. 
 
 • \A battle is fought between foot and great hobby-horses. At 
 last, Drawcansir comes in and kills them all on both 
 sides. All the while the battle is fighting, Bayes is telling 
 them when to shout, and shouts with 'em. 
 
 Draw. Others may boast a single man to kill ; 
 But I the blood of thousands daily spill. 
 Let petty kings the names of parties know : - 
 Where'er I come, I slay both friend and foe. 
 The swiftest horsemen my swift rage controls. 
 And from their bodies drives their trembling souls. - 
 If they had wings, and to the gods could fly, 
 I would pursue and beat 'em through the_sky ; 
 And make proud Jove, with all his thunder, see 
 This single arm more dreadful is than he. \_Exit. 
 
 Bayes. There's a brave fellow for you now, sirs. You may 
 talk of your Hectors, and Achilles's, and I know not who ; but I 
 defy all your histories, and your romances too, to show me one 
 such conqueror, as this Drawcansir. 
 Johns. I swear, I think you may. 
 
 Smith. But, Mr, Bayes, how shall all these dead men go ofif P 
 for I see none alive to help 'em. 
 
 i Bayes. Go off ! why, as they came on, upon their legs : how 
 should they go off? Why, do you think the people here don't 
 know they are not dead .' he is mighty ignorant, poor man i your 
 
 * "The burning mount Vesuvio." — "Slighted Maid," p.-Sl. 
 t ' ' Drinlt, drinli wine, Lippara wine. "— Ibid. 
 
SCENE I.] TBE JiEHEARSAL. 127 
 
 friend here is very silly,- Mr. Johnson ; egad, he is. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Come, sir, I'll show you how they shall go off. Rise, rise, sirs, 
 and go about your business.* There's go off for you now ; ha, 
 ha, ha ! Mr. Ivory, a word. Gentlemen, I'll be with you 
 presently. [Exit, 
 
 Johns. Will you so .'' Then we'll be gone. 
 
 Smith. Ay, prithee let's go, that we may preserve our hearing. 
 One battle more will take mine quite away. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Bayes and Players. 
 
 Bayes. Where are the gentlemen ? 
 
 \st Play. They are gone, sir, 
 
 Bayes. Gone ! 'sdeath, this act is best of all. I'll go fetch 
 'em again. [Exit. 
 
 1st Play. What shall we do, novif he is gone away ? 
 
 ■2.7id Play. Why, so much the better ; then let's go to dinner. 
 
 ■yd Play. Stay, here's a foul piece of paper. Let's see what 
 'tis. 
 
 ■},rd or /i,th Play. Ay, ay, come, let's hear it. 
 
 [Reads. The argument of the fifth act. 
 
 yd Play. " Cloris, at length, being sensible of Prince Pretty- 
 man's passion, consents to marry him ; but just as they are 
 going to church. Prince Prettyman meeting, by chance, with old 
 Joan, the chandler's widow, and remembering it was she that 
 first brought him acquainted with Cloris ; out of a high point 
 of honour, breaks^ off his match with Cloris, and marries old 
 Joan. Upon which, Cloris, in despair, drowns herself; and 
 
 Prince Prettyman, discontentedly, walks by the river-side." 
 
 This will never do : 'tis just like the rest. Come, let's be gone. 
 
 Most of the Players. Ay, plague on't, let's go away. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Bayes. 
 
 Bayes. A plague on 'em both for me ! they have made me 
 sweat, to run after 'em. A couple of senseless rascals, that had 
 rather go to dinner, than see this play out, with a plague to 'em. 
 What comfort has a man to write for such dull rogues ! Come, 
 Mr. — a — where are you,. sir .■' Come away, quick, quick, 
 
 Enter Stage-keeper. 
 Stage-keep. Sir : they are gone to dinner. 
 
 » Valeria, daughter to Maximin, having killed herself for the love of 
 Porphyrius ; when she was to be carried off by the bearers, strikes one of 
 them a box on the ear, and speaks to him thus : — 
 " Hold, are you mad, confounded dog? 
 I am to rise, and speak the epilogue." — " Tyrannic Love." 
 
128 THE REHEARSAL. [act v. 
 
 Bayes. Yes, I know the gentlemen are gone ; but I ask for 
 the players. 
 
 Stage-keep. Why, an't please your worship, sir, the players 
 are gone to dinner too. 
 
 Bayes. How ! are the players gone to dinner .'' 'tis impossible : 
 the players gone to dinner ! egad, if they are, I'll make 'em 
 know what it is to injure a person that does them the honour to 
 write for 'em, and all that. A company of proud, conceited, 
 humorous, cross-grain'd persons, and all that. Egad, I'll make 
 'em the most contemptible, despicable, inconsiderable persons, 
 and all that, in the whole world, for this trick. Egad, I'll be 
 revenged on 'em ; I'll sell this play to the other house. 
 
 Stage-keep. Nay, good sir, don't take away the book ; you'll 
 disappoint the company that comes to see it acted here this 
 afternoon. 
 
 Bayes. That's all one, I must reserve this comfort to myself, 
 my play and I shall go together ; we will not part,- indeed, sir. 
 
 Stage-keep. But what will the town say, sir ? 
 
 Bayes. The town ! why, what care I for the town ? Egad, the 
 town has us'd me as scurvily as the players have done : but I'll 
 be reveng'd on them too ; for I'll lampoon 'em all. And since 
 they will not admit of my plays, they shall know what a satirist 
 I am. And so farewell to this stage, egad, for ever. 
 
 [Exit Bayes. 
 
 Enter Players. 
 
 \st Play. Come, then, let's set up bills for another play. 
 
 ind Play. Ay, ay ; we shall lose nothing by this, I warrant 
 you. 
 
 \st Play. I am of your opinion. But before we go, let's see 
 Haynes and Shirley practise the last dance ; for that may serve 
 us another time. 
 
 7.nd Play, I'll call 'em in : I think they are but in the tyring- 
 room. 
 
 {The dance done^ 
 
 1st Play. Come, come ; let's go away to dinner. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 The play is at an end, but where's the plot ? 
 That circumstance our poet Bayes forgot. 
 And we can boast, tho' 'tis a plotting age, 
 No place is freer from it than the stage. 
 
SCENE I.] THE REHEARSAL. 129 
 
 The ancients plotted, tho', and strove to please 
 With sense that might be understood with ease ; 
 They every scene with so much wit did store, 
 That who brought any in, went out with more. 
 But this new way of wit does so surprise, 
 Men lose their wits in wond'ring where it lies. 
 If it be true, that monstrous births presage 
 The following mischiefs that afflict the age. 
 And sad disasters to the state proclaim ; 
 Plays without head or tail may do the same. 
 Wherefore fo;r ours, and for the kingdom's peace, 
 May this prodigious way of writing cease. 
 Let's have at least, once in our lives, a time 
 When we may hear some reason, not all rhyme. 
 We have this ten years felt its influence ; 
 Pray let this prove a year of prose and sense. 
 
The Splendid Shilling. 
 
 "Sing, heavenly Muse, 
 Things unattempted yet, in prose or rhyme, 
 A shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire." 
 
 Happy the man, who void of cares and strife. 
 In silken, or in leathern purse retains 
 A Splendid Shilling. He nor hears with pain 
 New oysters ciy'd, nor sighs for cheerful ale ; 
 But with his friends when nightly mists arise, 
 To Juniper's Magpye, Or Town Hall* repairs : 
 Where, mindful of the nymph, whose wanton eye 
 Transfix'd his soul, and kindled amorous flames, 
 Cloe, or Philips, he each circling glass 
 Wisheth her health, and joy, and equal love. 
 Meanwhile, he smokes, and laughs at merry tale, 
 Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint. 
 But I, whom griping penury surrounds. 
 And hunger, sure attendant upon want. 
 With scanty oflfals, and small acid tiff, 
 Wretched repast ! my meagre corps sustain : 
 Then solitary walk, or doze at home 
 In garret vile, and with a warming puff 
 Regale chill'd fingers ; or from tube as black 
 As winter-chimney, or well polish'd jet. 
 Exhale Mundungus, ill-perfuming scent : 
 Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size 
 Smokes Cambro-Briton, vers'd in pedigree, 
 Sprung, from Cadwalador and Arthur, kings 
 Full famous in romantic tale, when he 
 O'er many a craggy hill and barren cliff, 
 Upon a cargo of fam'd Cestrian cheese. 
 High over-shadowing rides, with a design 
 To vend his wares, or at th' Arvonian mart, 
 Or Maridunum, or the ancient tOAvn 
 
 * Two noted filehouses in Oxford, 1700. 
 
 E2 
 
132 THE SPLENDID SHILLING. 
 
 Ycleped Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream 
 Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil ! 
 Whence flows nectareous Tvine, that well may vie 
 With Massic, Setin, or renown'd Falern. 
 
 Thus, while my joyless minutes tedious flow 
 With looks demure, and silent pace, a Dun, 
 Horrible monster ! hated by gods and men, 
 To my aerial citadel ascends. 
 With vocal heel thrice thund'ring at my gate, 
 With hideous accent thrice he calls ; I know 
 The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound. 
 What should I do ? or whither turn ? Amaz'd, 
 Confounded to the dark recess I fly 
 Of woodhole ; straight my bristling hairs erect 
 Thro' sudden fear ; a chilly sweat bedews 
 My shudd'ring limbs, and, wonderful to tell ! 
 My tongue forgets her faculty of speech ; 
 So horrible he seems ! his faded brow 
 Entrench'd with many a frown, and conic beard, 
 And spreading band, admir'd by modern saints, 
 Disastrous acts forebode. In his right hand 
 Long scrolls of paper solemnly Tie waves, 
 With characters and figures dire inscrib'd. 
 Grievous to mortal eyes ; ye gods avert 
 Such plagues from righteous men ! Behind hiin stalks 
 Another monster not unlike himself, 
 Sullen of aspect, by the vulgar call'd 
 A Catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods 
 With force incredible and magic charms 
 First have endu'd : if he his ample palm 
 Should haply on ill-fated shoulder lay 
 Of debtor, straight his body, to the touch 
 Obsequious as whilom knights were wont, 
 To some enchanted castle is convey'd, 
 Where gates impregnable, and coercive chains 
 In durance strict detain him till, in form 
 Of money, Pallas sets the captive free. 
 
 Beware, ye debtors, when ye walk, beware ! 
 Be circumspect ; oft with insidious ken 
 This caitiff eyes your steps aloof, and oft 
 Lies perdue in a nook or gloomy cave. 
 Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch 
 With his unhallow'd touch. So, poets sing, 
 Grimalkin to domestic vermin sworn 
 An everlasting foe, with watchful eye 
 Lies nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap, 
 Protending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice 
 Sure ruin. So her disembowell'd web 
 
THE SPLENDID StilLLING. 133 
 
 Arachne in a hall, or kitchen, spreads, 
 
 Obvious to vagrant flies : she secret stands 
 
 Within her woven cell ; the humming^ prey, 
 
 Regardless of their fate, rush on the toils 
 
 Inextricable, nor will aught avail 
 
 Their arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue ; 
 
 The wasp insidious, and the buzzing drone, 
 
 And butterfly proud of expanded wings 
 
 Distinct with gold, entangled in her snai-es, 
 
 Useless resistance make : with eager strides, 
 
 She tow'ring flies to her expected spoils ; 
 
 Then, with envenom'd jaws the vital blood 
 
 Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave 
 
 Their bulky carcasses triumphant drags. 
 
 So pass my days. But when nocturnal shades 
 This world envelop, and th' inclement air 
 Persuades men to repel benumbing frosts 
 With pleasant wines, and crackling blaze of wood ; 
 Me, lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light 
 Of make- weight candle, nor the joyous talk 
 Of loving friend delights ; distress'd, forlorn, 
 Amidst the horrors of the tedious night, 
 Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts 
 My anxious mind, or sometimes mournful verse 
 Indite, and sing of groves and myrtle shades,. 
 Or desp'rate lady near a purling stream. 
 Or lover pendant on a willow-tree. 
 Meanwhile I labour with eternal drought, 
 And restless v^ish, and rave, my parchdd throat 
 Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose : 
 But if a slumber haply does invade 
 My weary limbs, my fancy's still awake, 
 Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream. 
 Tipples imaginary pots of ale, 
 In vain ; awake I find the settled thirst 
 Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse. 
 Thus do I live, from pleasure quite debarr'd. 
 Nor taste the fruits that the sun's genial rays 
 Mature, John Apple, nor the downy Peach, 
 Nor Walnut in rough-furrow'd coat secure. 
 Nor Medlar fruit delicious in decay : 
 Afflictions great ! yet greater still remains. 
 My Galligaskins that have long withstood 
 The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts. 
 By time subdu'd, what will not time subdue 1 
 An horrid chasm disclos'd with orifice 
 Wide, discontinuous ; at which the winds 
 Eurus and Auster, and the dreadful force 
 
134 THE SPLENDID SHILLING. 
 
 Of Boreas, that congfeals the Cronian waves, 
 
 Tumultuous enter with dire chilling blasts, 
 
 Portending agues. Thus a well-fraught ship, 
 
 Long sail'd secure, or thro' th' ^gean deep, 
 
 Or the Ionian, till cruising near 
 
 The Lilybean shore, with hideous crush 
 
 On Scylla, or Charybdis, dang'rous rocks ! 
 
 She strikes rebounding, whence the shatter'd oak, 
 
 So fierce a shock unable to withstand, 
 
 Admits the sea ; in at the gaping side 
 
 The crowding waves gush with impetuous rage. 
 
 Resistless, overwhelming ; horrors seize 
 
 The mariners, death in their eyes appears, 
 
 They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they pray ; 
 
 Vain efforts ! still the batt'ring waves rush in. 
 
 Implacable, till delug'd by the foam, 
 
 The ship sinks found'ring in the vast abyss. 
 
Two "Odes." 
 
 By AMBROSE PHILIPS, Esq., 
 From among those which suggested the next following Burlesque. 
 
 To Miss Margaret Pulteney, Daughter of Daniel 
 PuLTENEY, Esq., in the Nursery. 
 
 April z], 1727. 
 
 Dimply damsel, sweetly smiling, 
 All caressing, none beguiling, 
 Bud of beauty, fairly blowing, 
 Every charm to nature owing, 
 This and that new thing admiring, 
 Much of this and that enquiring. 
 Knowledge by degrees attaining, 
 Day by day some virtue gaining. 
 Ten years hence, when I leave chiming, 
 Beardless poets, fondly rhyming 
 (Fescu'd now, perhaps, in spelling), 
 On thy riper beauties dwelling, 
 Shall accuse each killing feature 
 Of the cruel, charming creature, 
 Whom I knew complying, willing, 
 Tender, and averse to killing. 
 
 To Miss Charlotte Pulteney, in her Mother's 
 Arms. 
 
 May I, 1724. 
 
 Timely blossom, infant fair. 
 
 Fondling of a happy pair. 
 
 Every morn, and every night, 
 
 Their solicitous delight, 
 
 Sleeping, waking, still at ease. 
 
 Pleasing, without skill to please, 
 
 Little gossip, blithe and hale, 
 
 Tatling many a broken tale, . 
 
136 NAMBY PAMBY. 
 
 Singirig many a tuneless song, 
 Lavish of a heedless tongue, 
 Simple maiden, void of art, 
 Babbling out the very heart, 
 Yet abandoil'd to thy will. 
 Yet imagining no ill. 
 Yet too innocent to blush, 
 Like the Unlet in the bush, 
 To the mother-linnet's note 
 Moduling her slender throat. 
 Chirping forth thy petty joys, 
 Wanton in the change of toys, 
 Like the linnet green, in May, 
 Flitting to each bloomy spray, 
 Wearied then, and glad of rest,- 
 Like the Unlet in the nest. 
 This thy present happy lot, 
 This, in time, will be forgot. 
 Other pleasures, other cares, 
 Ever-busy time prepares ; 
 And thou shalt in thy daughter-see, 
 This picture, once, resembled thee. 
 
 NAMBY PAMBY: 
 
 OR, A PANEGYRIC ON THE NEW VERSIFICATION 
 ADDRESSED TO A ?■ , ESQ, 
 
 " Nauty Pauty Jaok-a-dandy 
 Stole a piece of stfgar-candy 
 From the Grocer's shoppy-shop, - 
 And away did hoppy-hop." 
 
 All ye poets of the age, 
 All ye witlings of the stage. 
 Learn your jingles to reform : 
 Crop your numbers, and conform : 
 Let your little verses flow 
 Gently, sweetly, row by row. 
 Let the verse the subject fit, 
 - Little subject, little wit. 
 Namby Pamby is your guide,' 
 Albion's joy, Hibernia's pride. 
 Namby Pamby Pilli-pis, 
 Rhimy pim'd on missy-mis ; 
 Tartaretta Tartaree 
 From the navel to the knee ; 
 
NAMB Y PAMB V. 137 
 
 That her father's gracy-grace 
 Might give him a placy-place. 
 He no longer writes of mammy 
 Andromache and her lammy, 
 Hanging panging at the breast 
 Of a matron most distrest. 
 Now the venal poet sings 
 Baby clouts, and baby things, 
 Baby dolls and baby houses, 
 Little misses, little spouses ; 
 Little playthings, little toys. 
 Little girls, and little boys. 
 As an actor does his part. 
 So the nurses get by heart 
 Namby Pamby's little rhymes, 
 Little jingle, little chimes. 
 Namby Pamby ne'er will die 
 While the nurse sings lullaby. 
 Namby Pamby's doubly mild. 
 Once a man, and twice a child ; 
 To his hanging-sleeves restored. 
 Now he foots it like a lord; 
 Now he pumps his little wits, • 
 All by little tiny bits. 
 Now methinks I hear him say. 
 Boys and girls, come out to play, 
 Mooji does shine as bright as day. 
 Now my Namby Pamby's found 
 Sitting on the Friar's ground, 
 Picking silver, picking gold, 
 Namby Pamby's never old. 
 Bally-cally they begin, 
 Namby Pamby still keeps in. 
 Namby Pamby is no clown, 
 London Bridge is broken down : 
 Now he courts the gay ladee, 
 Dancing o'er the Lady-lee : 
 Now he sings of lick-spit liar 
 Burning in the brimstone fire ; 
 Liar, liar, lick-spit, lick, 
 Turn about the candle-stick. 
 Now he sings of Jacky Horner 
 Sitting in the chimney corner, 
 Eating of a Christmas pie. 
 Putting in his thumb, oh, fie ! 
 Putting in, oh, fie ! his thumb, 
 Pulling out, oh, strange ! a plum. 
 
138 NAMBY PAMBY. 
 
 Now he acts the Grenadier, 
 Calling for a pot of beer. 
 Where's his money ? he's forgot, 
 Get him gone, a drunken sot. 
 Now on cock-horse does he ride ; 
 And anon on timber stride, 
 See-and-saw and Sacch'ry down, 
 London is a gallant town. 
 Now he gathers riches' in 
 Thicker, faster, pin by pin. 
 Pins apiece to see his show. 
 Boys and girls flock row by row ; 
 From their clpthes the pins they take, 
 I Risk a whipping for his sake ; 
 
 From their frocks the pins they pull. 
 To fill Namby's cushion full. 
 So much wit at such an age. 
 Does a genius great presage. 
 ■Second childhood gone and past, 
 h Should he prove a man at last, 
 What must second manhood be, 
 In a child so bright as he ! ' 
 
 Guard him, ye poetic powers. 
 Watch his minutes, watch his hours : 
 Let your tuneful Nine inspire him. 
 Let poetic fury fire him : 
 ( ,Let the poets one and all 
 '' To his genius victims fall. 
 
 A WORD UPON PUDDING. 
 
 From "A Learned Dissertation upon Dumpling," 
 to which the preceding Poem nvas appended. 
 
 What is a tart, a pie, or a pasty, but meat or fruit enclos'd in 
 ^ wall or covering of pudding? What is a cake, but a bak'd 
 pudding ; or a Christmas pie, but a minc'd-meat pudding ? As 
 for cheese-cakes, custards, tansies, &c., they are manifest pud- 
 dings, and all of Sir John's own contrivance ; custard being as 
 old, if not older, than Magna Charta. In short, pudding is of the 
 greatest dignity and antiquity ; bread itself, which is the very 
 staff of life, being, properly speaking, a bak'd wheat pudding. 
 
 To the satchel, which is the pudding-bag of ingenuity, we are 
 indebted for the greatest men in church and state. All arts and 
 sciences owe their original to pudding or dumpling. What is a ' 
 bagpipe, the mother of all music, but a pudding of harmony ? 
 
NAMBY PAMBY. 
 
 139 
 
 ^ 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 » 
 
 * 
 
 Or what is music itself, but a palatable cookery of sounds ? To 
 little puddings or bladders of colours we owe all the choice 
 originals of the greatest painters. And indeed, what is painting, 
 but a well-spread pudding, or cookery of colours ? 
 
 The head of man is like a pudding. And whence have all 
 rhyipes, poems, plots, and inventions sprang, but from that same 
 pudding? What is poetry, but a pudding of words? The 
 physicians, tho' they cry out so much against cooks and 
 copkery, yet are but cooks themselves ; with this difference 
 only, the cooks' pudding lengthens life, the physicians' shortens 
 it. So that we live and die by pudding. For what is a clyster, 
 bpt a bag-pudding ? a pill, but a dumpling ? or a bolus, but a 
 tfinsy, tho' not altogether so toothsome ? In a word : physic 
 ip only a puddingizing or cookery of drugs. The law is but a 
 £Ookery of quibbles and contentions, {a) * * * 
 
 * W * ^F 'P ^ 
 
 * is but a pudding of * * * 
 
 ^ ■«• ^T^ "^ 'l^ '^ 
 
 Some swallow everything whole and un- 
 mix'd : so that it may rather be call'd a heap than a pudding. 
 Others are so squeamish, the greatest mastership in cookery is 
 requir'd to make the pudding palatable. The suet which others 
 gape and swallow by gobs, must for these puny stomachs be 
 minced to atoms ; the plums must be pick'd with the utmost 
 care, and every ingredient proportion'd to the greatest nicety, or 
 it will never go down. 
 
 The universe itself is but a pudding of elements. Empires, 
 kingdoms, states and republics, are but puddings of people 
 differently made up. The celestial and terrestrial orbs, are 
 deciphered to us by a pair of globes or mathematical puddings. 
 
 The success . of war and fate of monarchies are entirely de- 
 pendent on puddings and dumplings. For what else are cannon- 
 balls but military puddings ? or bullets, but dumplings ; with 
 this difference only, they do not sit so well on the stomach as a 
 good marrow pudding or bread pudding. 
 
 In short, there is nothing valuable in art or nature, but what, 
 more or less, has an allusion to pudding or dumpling. Why, 
 then, should they be held in disesteerii ? Why should dumpling- 
 eating be ridiculed, or dumpling-eaters derided ? Is it not 
 pleasant and profitable ? Is it not ancient and honourable ? 
 Kings, princes, and potentates have in all ages been lovers of 
 pudding. Is it not, therefoie, of royal authority? Popes, 
 cardinals, bishops, priests and deacons, have, time out of mind, 
 been great pudding-eaters. Is it not, therefore, a holy and 
 religious institution ? Philosophers, poets; and learned men in 
 
 (a) The cat ran away with this part of the copy, on which the Author had 
 ■ unfortunately laid some of Mother Crump's sausages. 
 
I40 NAME V PAMB Y. 
 
 all faculties, judges, privy councillors, and members of both 
 houses, have, by their great regard to pudding, given a sanction 
 to it that nothing can efface. Is it not, therefore, ancient, 
 honourable, and commendable ? 
 
 Quare itaque fremuerunt Auctores ? 
 
 Why do, therefore, the enemies of good eating, the starve- 
 ling authors of Grub Street, employ their impotent pens against 
 pudding and pudding-headed, alias honest men ? Why do they 
 inveigh against dumpling-eating, which is the life and soul of 
 good-fellowship ; and dumpling-eaters, who are the ornaments 
 of civil society ? 
 
 But, alas ! their malice is their own punishment. The hireling 
 author of a late scandalous libel, intituled, "The Dumpling- 
 Eaters Downfall," may, if he has any eyes, now see his error, in 
 attacking so numerous, so august, a body of people. His books 
 renjain unsold, unread, unregarded ; while this treatise of mine 
 shall be bought by all who love pudding or dumpling ; to my 
 bookseller's great joy, and my no small consolation. How shall 
 I triumph, and how will that mercenary scribbler be mortified, 
 when 1 have sold more editions of my books than he has copies 
 of his ? I, therefore, exhort all people, gentle and simple, mSn, 
 women, and children, to buy, to read, to extol these labours of 
 mine, for the honour of dumpling-eating. Let them not fear to 
 defend every article ; for I will bear them harmless. I have ' 
 arguments good store, and can easily confute, either logically, 
 theologically, or metaphysically, all those who dare oppose me. 
 
 Let not Englishmen, therefore, be ashamed of the name of 
 Pudding-eaters ; but, on the contrary, let it be their glory. For 
 let foreigners cry out ne'er so much against good eating, they 
 come easily into it when they have been a little while in our land 
 of Canaan ; and there are very few foreigners among us who 
 have not learn'd to make as great a hole in a good pudding or 
 sirloin of beef, as the best Englishman of us all. 
 
 Why should we then be laughed out of pudding and dumpling ? 
 or why ridicul'd out of good living ? Plots and politics may 
 hurt us, but pudding cannot. Let us, therefore, adhere to pud- 
 ding, and keep ourselves out of harm's way ; according to the 
 golden rule laid down by a celebrated dumpling-eater now 
 defunct : 
 
 " Be of your patron's mind, whate'er he says : 
 Sleep very much ; think little, and talk less : 
 Mind neither good nor bad, nor right nor wrong ; 
 But eat your pudding, fool, and hold your tongue," — Prior. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF TRAGEDIES: OR, THE LIFE 
 AND DEATH OF 
 
 Tom Thumb the Great. 
 
 WITH THE ANNOTATIONS OF H. SCRIBLERUS SECUNDUS, 
 FIRST ACTED IN I730, AND ALTERED IN I731. 
 
 H. SCRIBLERUS SECUNDUS, HIS PREFACE. 
 
 The town hath seldbm been more divided in its opinion than 
 concerning the merit of the following scenes. Whilst some 
 publicly affirm 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 world 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, tragcediis tarn antiquis qukm novis longfe antepo- 
 
 nendum ;" nay, Dr. B hath pronounced, "Cititis JVIsevii 
 
 ./Eneadem qukm Scribleri istius tragoediam hanc crediderim, 
 cujus autorem Senecam ipsum tradidisse hand 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 cele- 
 brated with great applause at Amsterdam (where burlesque never 
 came) by the title of Mynheer Vander Thumb, the burgomasters 
 received 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. 
 
142 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 
 
 This learned critic 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 im- 
 perfect the former was, even that faint resemblance of the true 
 Torn Thumb contained sufficient beauties to give it a run of up- 
 wards of forty nights to the politest audiences. But, notwith- 
 standing that applause which it received from all the best judges, 
 it was as severely censured by some few bad ones, and, I be- 
 lieve rather maliciously than ignorantly, reported to have been 
 intended a burlesque on the loftiest parts of tragedy, and de- 
 signed to banish what we generally call fine things from the 
 stage. 
 
 Now, if 1 can set my country right in an affair of this im- 
 portance, 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 sur- 
 reptitious 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 under- 
 standing 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 
 Shakespeare, 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. 
 
 ].et 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 Look- 
 ing-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 
 
TOM THUMB THE GREAT. ' 143 
 
 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— 1 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 dif- 
 ferent lights, that we can discover not the least sameness, or 
 even Mkeness, 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 Mai-y Queen of Scotland. In short, the one Sopho- 
 nisba 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 uni- 
 form, 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 persona; 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 ' 
 
144 TOM THUMB THE GREA T. 
 
 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 b? in a fellow whom history 
 related 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 physiognominical 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 evejr 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 style Mr. Dryden illustrates by 
 the familiar image of two inns, which I shall term the aerial and 
 the subterrestrial. 
 
 Horace goes further, aad showeth when it is proper to call at 
 one of these inns, and when at the other : — 
 
 Telephus et Peleus, ciim pauper et exul ulerque, 
 Projioit ampuUas 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 dropped 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 sernione 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. 
 
TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 145 
 
 Cicero recomiriendeth the former of these : " Quid est tam 
 furiosum vel tragicum qukm verborum sonitus inanis, nulla 
 subjecta sententia neque scientii." What can be so proper for 
 tragedy as a set of big sounding word;;, 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 Scribletus. 
 
 I shall not presume to determine which of these two styles 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 per- 
 haps 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 acqaintance, 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, 
 quippfe quse nunquam legerim." However, that the reader may 
 meet with due satisfaction in this point, I have a young com- 
 mentator 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. 
 
146 
 
 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 
 
 [act I. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 King Arthur, a passionate sort of 
 king, husband to Queen Dol- 
 LALLOLLA, of whom he stands 
 a Utile in fear : father to HuN- 
 CAMUNCA, wlwm he is very fond 
 of and in love with Glum- 
 DAI.CA. 
 
 Tom Thumb the Great, a little 
 hero with a great soul, some- 
 thing violent in his tem,per, 
 which is a little abated by his 
 love for HUNCAMUNCA. 
 
 Ghost of Gaffer Thumb.^toAwb- 
 sical sort of ghost. 
 
 Lord Grizzle, extremely zealous 
 for the liberty of the subject, very 
 choleric in his temper, and in 
 love with Huncamunca. 
 
 Merlin, a conjuror, and in some 
 . sort father to TOM Thtmb. 
 
 Noodle, Doodle, courtiers in 
 place, and consequently of that 
 party that is uppermost. 
 
 FoODLE, a courtier that is out of 
 place, and conseque?itly of that 
 party that is undermost. 
 
 Bailiff, and Follower, of the 
 party of the plaintiff. 
 
 Parson, of the side of the church. 
 
 Queen Dollallolla, wife to 
 King Arthur, and- mother to 
 Huncamunca, a woman en- 
 tirely faultless, saving that she 
 is a little given to drink, a little 
 too much a virago toward_s 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 ainorous disposition, 
 equally in love with LORD 
 Grizzle aK(/ Tom Thumb, and 
 desirous to be married to them 
 both. . 
 
 Glumdalca, of the giants, a cap- 
 tive queen , beloved by the king, 
 but in love with ToM Thumb. 
 
 Clf.ora, Mustacha, maids of 
 honour in love with NoODiiE 
 a7id Doodle. 
 
 Courtiers, Guards, Rebels, Drums, 
 Trumpets, Thunder and Light- 
 ning. 
 
 SCENE.- 
 
 -The Court of King Arthur, and a Plain 
 thereabouts. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I.— The Palace. 
 
 Doodle, Noodle. 
 
 Doodle, Sure such a day* as this was never seen ! 
 The sun himself, on this auspicious day. 
 
 * 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, tl^e 
 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 
 
\ SCENE I.] TOM THUMB THE GREA T. 147 
 
 I Shines like a beau in a new birthday suit : 
 
 J This down the seams embroidered, that the beams. 
 
 All nature wears one universal grin. 
 
 A'ood. This day, O Mr. Doodle, is a day. 
 1 Indeed I — a day, we never saw before.* 
 
 The mighty Thomas Thumb victorious comes ;t 
 
 Millions of giants crowd his chariot wheels, 
 
 Piants ! to whom the giants in GuildhallJ 
 
 The gaudy earth with an unusual brightness : 
 All nature smiles." — "Cses. Borg." 
 Massinissar 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 
 Tlie day's approach are lost in clouds, as if 
 The horrors of the night had sent 'em back. 
 To warn the sim he should not leave the sea. 
 To peep," &c. 
 *■ This line is highly conformable to the beautiful simplicity of the ancients'. 
 It hath been copied by almost every modern : — 
 
 " Not to be is not to be in woe," — " State of Innocence." 
 " I^ve is not sin but where 'tis sinful love." — "Don Sebastian." 
 " Nature is nature, Lselius." — "Sophonisba." 
 "Men are but men, we did not make ourselves." — " Revenge." 
 t Dr. B— y reads. The mighty Tall-mast Thumb. Mr. D— s. The 
 mighty Thumbing 'rhumb. Mr. T — d reads. Thundering. I think 
 Thomas more agreeable to the great simplicity so apparent in our author. 
 
 t 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 call 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 Trisme- 
 gistus of the ancients. 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 tl^at this opinion is supported 
 by an assertion of Jtistus Lipsius, "Thomam ilium Thumbuin non alium 
 qiiim 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 withm a savage nation dwelt 
 Of hideous gants." 
 
148 ' TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act I. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 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. 
 
 Dood. Then 'tis a gristle of no mortal kind ; 
 Some god, my Noodle, slept into the place 
 Of Gaffer Thumb, and more than half begotf 
 This mighty Tom. 
 
 Nood, 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, 
 So doth this mouse; contain a mighty mountain.§ 
 
 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. 
 
 * "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 authbi:, 
 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 
 AH fiction, painting, or dumb show of horror. 
 That ever ears yet heard, or eyes beheld." 
 When Mr. D — s understands these, he will understand whispering in 
 books. 
 
 t " Some ruffian stept into his father's place. 
 
 And more than half begot him."— "Mary Queen of Scots." 
 \ " For Ulamar seems sent express from Heaven, 
 
 To civilize this rugged Indian clime." — " Lib. Asserted." 
 § " Omne majus continet in se minus, sed minus non in se majus conti- 
 nere 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 ; 
 1 Conduct me in, for I will view thy mind." — "Aurengzebe." 
 
SCENE II.] TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 149 
 
 Dood. Mountain indeed! So terrible his name, 
 
 The giant nurses frighten children with it * 
 
 And cry Tom Thumb is come, and if you are 
 
 Naughty, will surely take the child away. 
 Nood. -But hark ! these trumpets speak the king's approach-f 
 Dood. He comes most luckily for my petition. [Flourish. 
 
 Scene II. 
 King, Queen, Grizzle, Noodle, Doodle, Foodle. 
 
 King. 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 
 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 } 
 
 Queen. Excess of joy, my lord, I've heard folks say,|| 
 Gives tears as certain as excess of grief. 
 
 King. If it be so, let all men cry for joy, 
 Till my whole court be drowned with their tears jIT 
 
 * 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." 
 t 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 Jrumpet's formal 
 sound. 
 
 t 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 music's care-dispelling voice be heard ; 
 The sumptuous banqxiet and the flowing goblet 
 Shall warm the cheek and fill the heart with gladness. 
 Astarbe shall sit mistress of the feast." 
 §■ "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." 
 II Plato is of this opinion, and so is Mr. Banks : — 
 ' ' Behold these tears sprung from fresh pain and joy. " — ' ' Earl of Essex, " 
 _ IT These floods are very frequent in the tragic 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 ' ' Soph." 
 - " 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 : 
 
ijo TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act i. 
 
 Nay, till they overflow my utmost land, 
 And leave me nothing but the sea to rule^ 
 
 Dood. My liege, I a petition have here get. 
 
 Kin^. Petition me no petitions, sir, to-day : 
 Let other hours be set apart for business. 
 To-day it is our pleasure to be drunk.* 
 And this our queen shall be as drunk as we. 
 
 Queeii. (Though 1 alreadyf 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 ' ' 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 BuUen." 
 Cyrus drowns the whole world : 
 * ' Our swelling grief 
 Shall melt into a deluge, and the world 
 Shall drown in tears." — "Cyrus the Great." ; 
 
 * 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 dnuiken king, or a 
 drunken sword? 
 
 Mr. Tate dresses up king Arthurs resolution in heroic : 
 
 "Merry, my lord, o' th' captams humour right, 
 I am resolved to be dead drunk to-night." 
 Lee also usos this charming word : 
 
 " Love's the drunkenness of the mmd." — " Gloriana." 
 I Drydeii hath borrowed this, and applied it improperly : 
 "I'm half-seas o'er in death." — "Cleom." 
 
SCENE lii.J TOM THUMB THE GREAT. ' 151 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Tom Thumb to them, wzV/jOfficers, Prisoners, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 King. Oh ! welcome most, most welcome to my arms.* 
 What gratitude can thank away the debt 
 Your valour lays upon pie ? 
 
 Queen. Oh ! ye gods If [^Asiiie. 
 
 Thumb. When I'm not thank'd.at all, I'm thank'd enough. J 
 I've done my duty, and I've done no more. 
 
 Queen. Was ever such a godlike creature seen .'' \Aside. 
 
 liing. Thy modesty's a candle§ to thy merit, 
 It shines itself, and shows thy merit too. 
 But say, my boy, where didst thou leave the giants ? 
 
 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. And sure thou art like nothing but thyself.|| \Aside. 
 
 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 clods. 
 But ha ! what form majestic strikes our eyes ? 
 So perfect, that it seems to have been drawn^ 
 
 * This figure is in great use among tlie tragedians : 
 
 ' ' 'Tis therefore, therefore 'tis." — ' ' Victim." 
 " I long, repent, repent, and long again." — " Busiris." 
 t A tragical exclamation. 
 J This line is copied verbatim in the Captives. 
 5 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." 
 jl This simile occurs very frequently among the dramatic writers of both 
 kinds. 
 IT Mr. Lee hath stolen this thought from our author : 
 
 "This perfect face, drawn by the gods in council, 
 Which they were long in maldng." — " Luc. Jun. Brut." 
 " At his birth the heavenly council paused. 
 And then at last cried 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 cried, A lucky hit 
 Has mended our design ! Tlieir envy hinder'd, 
 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." 
 
152 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act 1. 
 
 By all the gods in council : so fair she is, 
 That surely at her birth tl;.e council paused, 
 And then at length cr/d out, This is a woman ! 
 
 Thumb. Then were the gods mistaken — she is not 
 
 A woman, but a giantess whom we, 
 
 With much ado, have made a shift to haul* 
 Within the town : for she is by a footf 
 Shorter than all her subject giants were. 
 
 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. My worn-out heartjj 
 
 That ship, leaks fast, and the great heavy lading, 
 My soul, will quickly sink. 
 
 Queeii. Madam, believe 
 
 I view your sorrows with a woman's eye : 
 But learn to bear them with what strength youmay, 
 To-morrow we will have our grenadiers 
 Drawn out before you, and you then shall choose 
 What husbands you think fit. 
 ' Glum. Madam, I am§ 
 
 Your most obedient and most humble servant. 
 
 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. 
 I feel a sudden pain within my breast, || 
 
 * It is impossible, says Mr. W , sufficiently to admire this natural 
 
 easy line. 
 
 t 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 con- 
 tinually 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. 
 
 % ' ' My blood leaks fast, and the great heavy lading 
 My soul will quickly sink."—" Mithridates." 
 " My soul is like a ship."^" Injured Love." 
 i This well-bred line seems to be copied in the Persian Princess : 
 
 " To be your humblest and most faithful slave." 
 I] 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." 
 
SCENE III.] TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 153 
 
 Nor know I whether it arise from love 
 
 Or only the wind-cholic. Time must show. 
 
 Thumb ! what do we to thy valour owe ! 
 Ask some reward, great as we can bestow. 
 
 Thumb. Task not kingdoms, I can conquer those ;* 
 T ask not money, money I've enough ; 
 For what I've done, and wha,t I mean to do. 
 For giants slain, and giants yet unborn 
 
 Which I will slay if this be call'd a debt, 
 
 Take my receipt in full : I ask but this, — 
 To sun myself in Huhcamunca's eyes.f 
 
 King. Prodigious bold request. 
 
 Queen. ' Be still, my soul.J {Aside. 
 
 Thumb. My heart is at the threshold of your mouth,§ 
 
 And waits its answer there. Oh ! do hot 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, 
 
 1 should have loved her still for oh, strange fate^ 
 
 Then when I loved her least I loved her most ! 
 
 King. It is resolv'd — the princess is your own. 
 Thumb. Oh ! happy, happy, happy, happy Thumb.lT 
 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. 
 
 * Mr. Dryden seems to have had this passage in his eye in the first page 
 of Love- Triumphant. 
 
 t Don Carlos, in the Revenge, suns himself in the charms of his mis- 
 tress : "While in the lustre of her charms I lay." 
 t A tragical phrase much in use. 
 
 § This speech hath been taken to pieces by several tragical authors, who 
 seem to have rifled it, and share 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 Sqphonisba. ' 
 "And when it {my heart) wild resolves to love no more, 
 Then is the triumph of excessive love." — Ibid. 
 II Massinissa is one-fourth less happy than Tom Thumb. 
 " Oh ! happy, happy, happy ! "-^IMd. 
 
154 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. ' [act I. 
 
 Queen. Though greater yet his boasted merit was, 
 He shall not have my daughter, that is pes'. 
 
 Khi^. Ha ! sayst thou, DollalloUa ? 
 
 Queen. I say he shan't. 
 
 King. Then by our royal self we swear you lie* 
 
 Queen. Who but a dog, who but a dogf 
 Would use me as thou dost ? Me, who have lain 
 These twenty years so loving by thy side !J 
 But I will be revenged. I'll hang myself. 
 Then tremble all who did this match persuade, 
 For, riding on a cat, from liigh I'll fall,§ 
 And squirt down royal vengeance on you all. 
 
 Food. Her majesty the queen is in a passion. || 
 
 King. Be she, or be she not, I'll to the girl^f 
 And pave thy way, O Thumb. Now by ourself. 
 We vvere indeed a pretty king of clouts 
 To truckle to her will-^for when by force 
 Or art the wife her husband overreaches, 
 Give him the petticoat, and her the breeches. 
 
 Thumb. 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 ray 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 Brickdiista lies. 
 
 * " No by niyseif.".— " Anna Ru!len." 
 t "Who caused 
 
 This dreadful revolution in my fate, 
 
 Ulamar. Who but a dog -who but a dog? " — " Liberty As." 
 X "A bride, 
 
 Who twenty years lay loving by your side." — Banks. 
 § " For, borne upon a cloud, from high I'll fall. 
 
 And rain down royal vengeance on you all." — " Alb. Queens." 
 II An information very like this we have in the tragedy of Love, where 
 Cyrus, having stormed in the most violent raannsr, Cyaxares observes very 
 calmly, " Why, nephew Cyrus, you are moved? " '■■ 
 
 T " 'Tis in your choice. 
 
 Love me, or love me not." — "Conquest of Granada." 
 *• There is not one beauty in this charming speech but what hath been 
 borrow'd by almost every tragic writer. 
 
SCENE v.] TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 155 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Grizzle (solus). 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. 
 
 Scene V. 
 Queen, Grizzle. 
 
 Queen. 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. 
 
 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 ! bipod and thunder ! han't you heard 
 , (What ev'ry corner of the court resounds) 
 ■ That little Thumb will be a great man made .'' 
 
 Griz. I heard it, I confess — for who, alas ! 
 CanJ always stop his ears ? — But would my teeth, 
 By.grinding knives, had first been set on edge ! 
 
 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. — Oh, good lord Grizzle ! can I bear 
 To see him from a pudding mount the throne .■' 
 
 * Mr. Banks has (I wish I could not say too servilely) imitated this of 
 Grizzle in his Earl of Essex : 
 
 "Where art thou, Essex," Sc 
 t The Countess of Nottingham, in the Earl of Essex, is apparently 
 acquainted with DoUalloUa. 
 
 J Grizzle was not probably possessed of that glue of which Mr. Banks 
 speaks in his Cyrus : 
 
 " I'll glue my ears to every word." 
 
156 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act i. 
 
 Or can, oh can, my Huncamunca bear 
 To take a pudding's offspring to her arms ? 
 
 Griz. Oh, horror ! horror ! horror ! cease, my queen. 
 Thy voice, like twenty screech-owls, wracks my brain* 
 
 Queen. Then rouse thy spirit — we may yet prevent 
 This hated match. 
 
 Griz. We will ; nor fate itself,t 
 
 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 iire ; 
 I'll rave; I'll rant ; I'll rise ; I'll rush ; I'll roar; 
 Fierce as the man whom smihngj dolphins bore 
 From the prosaic to poetic shore. 
 I'll tear the scoundrel into twenty pieces. 
 
 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 killed the giants ? 
 
 Griz. I tell you, madam, it was all a trick ; 
 He made the giants first, and then he killed 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. Indeed I cannot positively telT,§ 
 But firmly do believe there is not one. 
 
 Queen. Hence ! from my sight ! thou traitor, hie away ; 
 By all my stars ! thou enviest Tom Thumb. 
 
 Go, sirrah ! go, hie|| away ! hie ! thou art 
 
 A settiiig-dog ; begone. 
 
 * ' ' Screech-owls, dark ravens, and amphibious monsters, 
 Are soieiiriiing in that voice." — " Mary Queen of Scots." 
 t The reader may see all the beauties of this speech in a late ode, called 
 the ' ' Naval Lyrick. " 
 
 \ 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 smiUng is the property of 
 reason, and that no irrational creature can smile : 
 
 " Smiles not allow'd to beasts from reason move. " — " State of Innocence." 
 § These Unes 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 shall find by this 'tis true." 
 Or with this in Cyrus : , 
 
 " The most heroic mind that ever was." 
 And with above half of the modern tragedies. 
 
 II Aristotle, in that excellent work of his, which is very justly styled 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, 
 F7-a. Do not fear it. 
 
 He answers you in your hawking phrase." — " In. Love." 
 I think these two great authorities are sufficient to justify DollalloUa in 
 
SCENE I.] TOM THUMB THE GREAT, 157 
 
 Griz. Ma'daiT), 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 \sold\. 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. 
 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. 
 
 ACT II. 
 Scene I. — The street. 
 Bailiff, Follower. 
 
 Bail. Come on, my trusty fellow, 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, O Bailiff! every word 
 Inspires my soul with virtue. Oh ! I long 
 
 the use of the phrase, ' ' Hie away, hie ! " when in the same line she says she 
 is spealiing to a setting-dog. 
 
 * 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." 
 
158 TOM THUMB THE- GREAT. [act II. 
 
 To meet the enemy in the street, and nab him : 
 'To lay arresting hands upon his back. 
 And drag him trembling to the sponging-house. 
 
 Bail. There when I have him, I will sponge 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 1 grow pale : 
 For, oh ! — but swear thou'lt keep it ever secret,t 
 I will unfold a tale will make thee stare. 
 
 Nood. I swear by lovely Huncamunca's charms. 
 
 Thumb. Then know — my grandmamma J hath often said. 
 Tom Thumb, beware of marriage. 
 
 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 
 
 * Mr. Rowe is generally imagined to liave taken some hints Irom tliis 
 scene in his character of Bajazet ; but as he, of all the tragic 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. 
 
 t This method of surprising 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. 
 X Almeyda, in Sebastian, is in the same distress ; — 
 
 " Sometimes methinks I hear the groan of ghosts, 
 Thin 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." 
 
SCENE III.] TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 159 
 
 For our enjoyment ; every sun shall rise 
 Blushing to see us both alone together.* 
 
 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 tailor's, sir. 
 Your tailor 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 t 
 But let vain cowards threaten by their word, 
 Tom Thumb shall show 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. Go then to hell,t like rascals as you are. 
 And give our service to the baihffs there. 
 
 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 Wl.— The Princess Huncamunca's Apartment. 
 
 HUNCAMUNCA, ClEORA, MUSTACHA. 
 
 Hunc. Give me some music — see that it be sad.J 
 
 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. 
 
 6 " 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.' 
 t Neurmahal 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." 
 X Anthony gives the same command in the same wbrds. 
 
i6o ■ TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act il 
 
 Let him feel the pleasing smart, 
 Drive the arrow through his heart ; 
 When one you wound, you then destroy ; 
 When both you kill, yon kill with joy. 
 
 Httnc. 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 ! 
 
 Must. I am surprised that your highness can give yourself a. 
 moment's uneasiness about that little insignificant felloyv, Tom 
 Thumb the Greatf — 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 vifith a grenadier, I should not have 
 wondered at it. If you had fallen in love with something ; but 
 to fall in love with nothing ! 
 
 Htinc. 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. 
 
 Himc, 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. 
 
 Mtist. 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 
 That, like two open windows,! "sed to show 
 
 * " Oh ! Marius, Marius, wherefore art thou, Marius ? " — 
 
 Otway's " Marius." 
 t Nothing is more common than these seeming contradictions ; such 
 as — 
 
 " Haughty weakness." — "Victim." 
 " Great small world." — " Noah's Flood." 
 X Lee hath improved this metaphor : 
 
 " Dost thou not viejv 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." 
 
SCENE IV.] ' TOM THUMB THE GREAT. i6i 
 
 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. ' 
 
 Hunc. Alas ! my lord, I value not myself 
 That once I ate two fowls and half a pig ; 
 Small is that praise ! * but oh ! a maid may want 
 What she can neither eat nor drink. 
 
 King. What's that ? 
 
 HuiK. O spare my blushes ;t but I mean a husband. 
 
 King. If that be all, I have provided one, 
 i A husband great in arms, whose warlike sword 
 Streams with the yelloiv blood of slaughter'd giants, 
 Whose name in TerrS. Incognita is known. 
 Whose valour, wisdom, virtue, make a noise 
 Great as the kettledrums of twenty armies. 
 
 Hunc. Whom does my royal father mean "i 
 
 King. Tom Thumb. 
 
 Hunc. Is it possible ? 
 
 King. Ha ! the window-blinds are gone ; 
 
 A country-dance of joy is in your face.J 
 Your eyes spit fire, your cheeks grow red as beef 
 
 Hunc. Oh, there's a magic-music in that sound, 
 Enough to turn me into beef indeed ! 
 Yes, I will owii, 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. 
 
 "s Almahide hath Ihe same contempt for these appetities : 
 
 "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." — EJanks'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." 
 t "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 speaksbefore she is asked: Huncamunca afterwards. Cassandra 
 speaks her wishes to her lover : Huncamunca only to her father. 
 X "Her eyes resistless mpgic bear : 
 
 Angels, I see, and gods, are dancing there," — Lee's " Sophonisba." 
 
 F 
 
i62 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act II. 
 
 King. Oh ! tKou shalt gnaw thy tender sheets no more. 
 A husband thou shalt have to mumble now. 
 
 Htmc. Oh ! ha,ppy sound ! henceforth let no one tell 
 That Huncamunca shall lead apes in hell. 
 Oh ! I am overjoy 'd ! 
 
 King. I see thou art. 
 
 Joy lightens, in thy eyes, and thunders from thy brows ;* 
 Transports, like lightning, dart along thy soul, 
 As small-shot through a hedge. 
 
 Hunc. Oh ! say not small. 
 
 King. This happy news shall on our tongue ride post, 
 Ourself we bear the happy news to Thuiiib. , ' 
 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 Jove.f 
 When wifh excessive thund'ring tired above, 
 Comes down to earth, and takes a bit — and then 
 Flies to his trade of thund'ring back again. 
 
 Scene V. 
 Grizzle, Huncamunca, 
 
 Griz. Oh ! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh !J 
 Thy pouting breasts, Uke kettledrums of brass. 
 Beat everlasting loud alarms of joy ; 
 As bright as brass they are, and oh, as hard. 
 Oh ! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh ! ' 
 
 Hunc. Ha ! dost thou know me, princess as I am, 
 That thus of me you dare to make your game ?§ 
 
 • Mr. Dennis, in that excellent tragedy called Liberty Asserted, which is' 
 thought to have given so great a stroke, to the late Frencli 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 light'ning dart along my soul." 
 t ■ " Jove, with excessive thund'ring tired above, 
 
 Comds down for ease, enjoys a nymph, and then 
 Mounts dreadful, and to thund'ring goes again." — " Gloriana." 
 t This beajjtiful line, which ought, says Mr. W — , ta 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. 
 
 } Edith, in the Bloody Brother, speaks to her lover in the same familiar , 
 language: 
 
 " Your grace is full of game." 
 
SCENE v.] , TOM THUMB THE GREAT. ■ 163 
 
 Gris. Oh ! Huncamunca, well I know that you 
 A princess are, and a king's daughter, too ; ; 
 But love no meanness scdrns; 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. 
 
 Gris. 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. 
 Then, while in joys together lost we lie,t 
 I'll press thy soul while gods stand wishing by. 
 
 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 strpng your eloquence I find, 
 It is impossible to be unkind. 
 
 Griz. Ah ! speak that o'er again, and let the soundf 
 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. 
 
 Hunc. Oh, no ! lest some disaster we should meet, 
 .'Twere better to be married at the Fleet. 
 
 *■ " Traverse tlje 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." 
 t " Let4he four winds from distant corners meetf 
 
 And on their wings first bear it into France j 
 
 Then back again to Edina's proud walls. 
 
 Till victim to the sound th' aspiring city falls." — "Albion Queens." 
 
 F 2 
 
j64 rOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act 1 1. 
 
 GHz. 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 post-horses of love.* 
 
 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 love, 
 That light up all with love my waxen soul ?t 
 Where is that face which artful nature made 
 In the same moulds where Venus' self was castPJ 
 
 * 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." ♦ 
 t 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." 
 t 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 tnade, 
 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." — Sebastiap." 
 One makes the soul of wax : 
 
 "Her waxen soul begins to melt apace." — "Anna Bullen." 
 Another of flint : 
 
 " Sure our souls have somewhere been acquainted 
 In former beings, or, struck out together, ' 
 One spark to Afric 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 fitid it 
 in Dryden : 
 
 "Souls shirted but with air." — "King Arthur." 
 
SCENE VII.] - TOM rilUMB THE GREA T. 165 
 
 Hunc. 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 ? 
 
 Thumb. Ha ! promised ? 
 
 Hunc. Too sure ; 'tis written in the book of fate. 
 
 Thumb. Then I will tear away the leaff 
 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. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 Glumdalca, Tom Thumb, Huncamunca. 
 
 Glum. I need not ask if you are HuncamTmca,t 
 Your brandy-nose proclaims 
 
 Hunc. I am a princess ; 
 
 Nor need I ask who you are. 
 
 Ghim. 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. 
 The glove or boot, so many times pull'd on,§ 
 May well sit e^sy on the hand or foot. , 
 
 Nor can I pass by a particular sort of soul in a particular sort of 
 description in the New Soplionisba. , 
 " Ye mysterious powers, 
 
 Whether thro' your gloomy depths I wander, 
 Or on the mountains walk.^ive me the calm, 
 The steady smiling soul, where wisdom sheds 
 Eternal sunshine, and eternal joy." 
 * This line Mr. Banks has plunder'd entire in his Anna BuUen. 
 t ' ' 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." 
 
 t 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 
 
 ^uthor. How just this their observation is I will not presume to determine. 
 
 § "A cobbling poet indeed," says Mr. D. ; and yet I believe we may 
 
 find as monstrous images in the tragic authors. I'll put down one : 
 
 " Untie your folded thoughts, and let them dangle loo.se 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. 
 
166 TOM THUM£ THE GREAT. [Act li. 
 
 Glum. I glory- in the number, and when I 
 Sit poorly down, hke 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 handsonle. 
 
 Hunc. • Since you come 
 
 To that, I'll put my beauty to the test :* . 
 Tom Thumb, I'm yours, if you with me will go. 
 
 Ghim. 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 puss two 'prentices engage ; 
 One half-a-crown does in his fingers hold, 
 The other shows 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 loath'd for such a chit as this ; 
 I feel the storm that's rising in my mind,f 
 Teilipests and whirlwinds rise, and roll, and roar. 
 I'm all within a hurricane, as if 
 
 The world's four winds were pent within my carcase.^ 
 , Confusion,§ horror, murder, gripes, and death ! 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 King, Glumdalca. 
 
 King. Sure never was so sad a king as I ! || 
 My life is worn as ragged as a coat ^ 
 
 * Mr. L — ■ takes occasion in this place to commend the great care of our 
 author to preserve the metre of blank verse, in which Shakespeare, Jonsdn, 
 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." i ^ 
 
 Every page of Sophonisba gives us instances of this excellence. 
 
 t " Love mounts ahd rolls about my stormy mind." — " Aurengzebe." 
 " Tempests and whirlwinds thro' my bosom move." — " Cleom." 
 X ' ' With such a furious tempest on his brow. 
 As if the world's four winds were pent within 
 His blustering carcase." — " Anna BuUen." 
 5 'Verba Tragica. 
 
 S This speech has been terribly mauled by the poet. 
 IT " My life is worn to rags, 
 Not worth a prince's wearing-" — " Love Triumphant." 
 
SCENE VIII.] TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 16; 
 
 A beggar wears ; a prince should put it off. 
 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. Oh, Glumdalca ! f i 
 
 Heaven thee design'd a giantess to make, '■ 
 
 But an angelic soul was shuffled in. 
 I am a multitude of walking griefs,J 
 And only oil her lips the balm is found 
 To spread a plaster that might cure them all.§ 
 ,^ Glum. What do I hear ? 
 - King. What do I see .'' 
 
 Glum. ' Oh ! 
 
 King. Ah ! 
 
 Glum. Ah ! wretched queen ! |1 
 
 King. Oh! wretched king ! 
 
 Glum. Ah ! % 
 
 King. Oh ! 
 
 * ' ' Must I beg the pity of my slave ? 
 
 Must a king beg ? But -love's a greater king, 
 A tryant, nay, a devil, that possesses me. 
 He tunes the organ of my voice and speaks, 
 Unknown to me, within me." — " Sebastian." 
 t "When thou wert form'd heaven did a man begin ; 
 
 But a brute soul by chance was shuffled in." — ' ' Aurengzebe." 
 \X "I am a multitude 
 
 Of walking griefs." — " New Sophonisba." 
 , § *' I will take thy scorpion blood, 
 
 And lay it to my grief till 1 have ease." — "Anna BuUen." 
 11 Our author, who. everywhere shows 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, chooses 
 rather to send his characters oif 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 chokes 
 
 Their words, and they're the statues of despair. " 
 And Seneca tells us, "Curae 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 
 T ' I 'To part is death. 
 
 'Tis death to part. 
 
 Ah! 
 
 Oh!"— "Don Carlos.- 
 
l68 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act ii. 
 
 Scene IX. 
 Tom Thukib, 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. 
 
 Nunc. Oh ! fie upon you, sir, you make me blush. 
 
 Thumb. It is the virgin's sign, and suits you well : 
 I know not where, nor how, nor what I am ; * 
 I'm so transported, J have lost myself.t 
 
 Hunc. Forbid it, all ye stars, lor 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 for ever gone. 
 
 Par. Long may they live, and love, and propagate, 
 Till the whole land be peopled with Tom Thumbs ! 
 
 * " Nor know I whether 
 
 What am I, who, or where." — " Busiris." 
 " I was I know not what, and am I know not how." — " Gloriana." 
 t To understand sufficiently the beauty of this passage, it will be neces- 
 sary 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, ohe 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." — "Alb. Q." 
 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. 
 
SCENE X.] TOM THUMB ^ THE GREA T. 169 
 
 Sq, when the Cheshire cheese a maggot breeds,* 
 Another and another still succeeds : 
 By thousands and ten thousands they increase, 
 Till one continued rnaggot fills the rotten cheese. 
 
 Scene X. 
 Noodle, and then Grizzle- 
 
 Nood. 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. 
 
 Griz. Oh, Noodle ! Hast thou fiuncamunca seen .'' 
 ' Nood. I've seen a thousand sights this day, where none 
 -Are by the Wonderful Pig himself outdone. 
 The king, the queen, and all the court, are sights. 
 
 G7-is. D — n your delay, you trifler ! are you drunk, ha ?J 
 I will not hear one word but Huncamunca. 
 
 Nood. By this time she is married to Tom Thumb. 
 
 Griz. My Huncamunca !§ 
 
 Nood. Your Huncamunca, 
 Tom Thumb's Huncamunca, every man's Huncamunca. 
 
 Griz. If this be true, all womankind are curst. 
 
 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 ample brow|| 
 Sits innocence with majesty enthroned. 
 
 Grizzle, Hujjcamunca. 
 
 Griz. Where has my Huncamunca been ? See here. 
 The licence in my hand ! 
 ' Hunc. Alas ! Tom Thumb. 
 
 * Mr. F. imagines this parson to have been a, Webh one, from his 
 simile. 
 
 Our author hath been pkindered here, according to custom : 
 " Great nature, break thy chain that linlcs together 
 - The fabric of the world, and malce 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 shding off its props." 
 X " D — n your delay, ye torturers, proceed : 
 
 I will not hear one word but Almahide." — " Conq. of Gran.' 
 § iMr. Dryden hath imitated this in All for Love. 
 II This Miltonic style abounds in the New Sophonisba. 
 ' ' And on her ample brow 
 Snt maje.sty." 
 
170 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act il. 
 
 Griz. Why dost thou mention him? . 
 
 HuHc. Ah, me ! Tom Thumb. 
 
 Griz. What means my lovely Huncamunca ? 
 
 Hunc. Hum? 
 
 Griz. Oh ! speak. 
 
 Hunc. Hum ! , . ,. 
 
 Griz. Ha ! your every word is hum : 
 
 You force me still to answer you, Tom Thumb.* 
 Tom Thumb— I'm on the rack— I'm in a flame. 
 Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb— you love the name ;t 
 So pleasing is that sound, that, were you dumb, 
 You still would find a voice to cry Tom Thumb. 
 
 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. 
 I married him, and now I'll marry you. J 
 
 Griz. Ha ! dost thou ovm 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, bt'ooding 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. 
 And cram up ev'ry chink of hell with ghosts. § 
 
 * ' ' Your ev'ry answer still so ends in that, 
 
 You force me still to answer you, Morat." — "Aurengzebe. 
 t " Morat, Morat, Morat ! you love the name," — 'Ibid. 
 X " 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 a heart every whit as ample : 
 
 " For two I must confess are gods to me, 
 Which is my Abrkdatus first, and thee." — "Cyrus the Great." 
 Nor is the lady in Love Triumphant more reserved, though not so i'ntel-' 
 ligible : " I am so divided, 
 
 That I grieve most for both, and love both most." 
 5 A ridiculous supposition to any one who considers the great and exten- 
 sive largeness of hell, says a commentator ; but not so to those who con- 
 sider 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 unUke 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 chinl^s, supposing the rest already full. 
 
SCENE I.] TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 171 
 
 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 thf ough the spouts, and wash whole clouds along. 
 "The crowded shops the thronging vermin screen, 
 Together cram the dirty and the clean, 
 And not one shoe-boy in the street is seen. 
 
 Hunc. Oh, fatal rashness ! should his fury slay 
 Myliapless bridegroom on his wedding-day, 
 t, who this morn of two chose which to wed, 
 May go again this night alone to bed. 
 So have I seen some wild unsettled fool^t 
 Who had her choice of this and that jomt-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. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I.— King Arthur's Palace. 
 
 Ghost% {solus). Hail ! ye black horrors of midnight's, mid- 
 noon ! 
 
 * Mr. Addison is generally thought to have had this simile in bis eye when 
 he wrote that beautiful one at the end of the third act of his Cato. 
 . t 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 heroic : 
 
 " Two ifs scarce make-one possibility. " — "Conq. 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 con- 
 fident that a more perfect system of ethics, as well as ecoriomy, might be 
 corapiledi 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. 
 
 X Of all the particulars in which the modem stage falls sliort of the 
 ancients, there is none so much to be lamented as the great scarcity of 
 ghosts. 'Whence this proceeds I will not presume to determine. Sonje are 
 of opinion that the moderns are unequal to that subUme language which a 
 ' ghost ought to speak. One says, ludicrously, that ghosts are out of fashion ; 
 
172 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act ill. 
 
 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 loud music of the silent bell,* 
 All hail! 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 King, Ghost. 
 
 king. What noise is this ? What villain dares, ^ 
 
 At this dread hour, with feet and voice profane, 
 Disturb our royal walls ? , 
 
 Ghost. One who defies 
 
 Thy empty power to_ hurt him ; one who dares f 
 Walk in thy bedchamber. 
 
 King. Presumptuous slave ! 
 
 Thou diest. 
 
 Ghost. Threaten others with that word : 
 
 I am a ghost, and am already dead.J 
 
 King. Ye stars ! 'tis well. Were thy last hour to come, 
 
 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 
 i(ivx^ a nvflos T^s Tpa-yuSi'oi, 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, fabulasque manes. ' — Horace. 
 Of all the ghosts that have ever appeared on the stage, a very learned and 
 judicious foreign critic gives the preference to this of our author. These 
 are his words, speaking of this tragedy; — " Nee quidquam in ilia adraira- 
 bilius qu^m phasma quoddam horrendum, quod omnibus aliis spe'ctris, qui- 
 buscum scatet Angelorum tragcedia, longfe (pace D — ysii V. Doctiss. dixerim) .• 
 proetuleiim." 
 
 * We have already given instances of this figure, 
 t Almanzor reasons in the same manner : 
 
 "A ghost I'll be; 
 And from a ghost, you know, no place is free." — " Conq. of Gran." 
 \ " The man who writ this wretched pun," says Mr. D., "would have 
 picked your pocljet :" which he proceeds to show 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 slolemn occasion 
 — that of sacrificing his daughter : 
 
 "Yes, daughter, yes ; you will assist the priest ; 
 Yes, you must offer up your — vows for Greece." 
 
SCENE II.] TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 173 
 
 This momfent had Jaeen it ; yet by thy shroud * 
 
 I'll pull thee backward, squeeze thee to a bladder, 
 
 Till thou dost groan thy nothingness away. 
 
 Thou fl/st ! 'Tis well. [GHOST retires. 
 
 I thought what was the courage of a ghost ! t 
 
 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 
 
 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 ! 
 _ Ghqst. 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, 
 For I feel thee, whilst thou dost not feel me.t , 
 
 King. Bilt say, thou dearest air,§ oh ! say what dread, 
 Important business sends thee bade to earth ? 
 
 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. 
 
 * " 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."' — " Conq. of Gran. ' 
 " Snatch me, ye gods, this moment into nothing." — " Cyrus the Great." 
 t " So, art thou gone ? Thou canst no conquest boast, 
 
 I thought what was the courage of a ghost." — "Conq. of Gran." 
 King Arthur seems to be as brave a fellow as Almanzor, who says most 
 heroically: " In spite of ghosts I'll on." 
 
 t The ghost of Lausaria, in Cyrus, is a plain copy of this, and is there- 
 fore worth reading : 
 
 "Ah, Gyrus! 
 Thou may'st as well grasp water, or fleet air, 
 As think of touching my immortal shade. "-^" Cyrus the Great," 
 § " Thou better part of heavenly air." — "Conquest of Granada." 
 
,174 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act ill. 
 
 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 Pkito'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. 
 
 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, 
 I'll run thee through the body, thoug:h thou'st none.f 
 
 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, sohts. 
 
 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 ! 
 Curs'd be the man who first a simile made ! 
 Curs'd 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 whol^ 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 DollalloUa's breast ? , 
 
 * "A string of similes, " says one, " proper to be hung up in the eabi'net 
 of a prince." i 
 
 t This passage hath been understood several different ways by the com- 
 mentators. For my part I find it difficult to understand 'it at all. M;-, 
 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. 
 
SCENE v.] tOf^' THUMB THE GREAT. 17^ 
 
 Why dost thou leave me in the dark alone,* 
 When well thou know'st I am afraid of sprites ? 
 
 King. Oh, DoUalloUa ! do not blame my love ! 
 I hoped the fumes of last night's punch had laid 
 Thy lovely eyelids fast ; but, oh ! I find 
 There is no povi^er 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. 
 Think, think, on that.— Oh ! think, think well on that ! f 
 I do remember also to have re^d 
 In Dryden's Ovid's Metamorphoses,* 
 That Jove in form inanimate did lie 
 With beauteous Danae : and, trust me, love, 
 I fear'd the bolster might have been a Jove.§ 
 
 King. Come to my arms, most virtuous of thy sex ! 
 Oh, DoUallolla ! were all wives like thee, 1. 
 
 ' So many husbands never had worn horns. 
 Should Huncamunca of thy worth partake, 
 Tom Thumb indeed were blest. — (Dh, fatal name 
 For didst thou know one quarter what I know. 
 Then woiildst thou know — alas ! what thou wouldst know 1 
 
 Queen. What can I gather hence ? Why dost thou speak 
 Like me;n 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, DoUallolla, queen I 
 Lord Grizzle, with ^ bold rebellious crowd, 
 Advances to the palace, threat'ning loud, 
 
 * Cydaria is of the same fearful temper with DollaloUa : 
 
 " I never durst in darkness be alone." — " Ind. Emp." 
 * " Think well of this, think that, think every way." — " Sophon." 
 X These quotations are more usual in the comic than in thq tragic writers. 
 5 " This distress," says Mr. D — , " I must allow to be extremely beauti- 
 ful, and tends to heighten the virtuous character of DoUallolla, \vho is so 
 exceeding delicate, that she is in the highest apprehension from tlie inani- 
 mate embrace of a bolster. An example worthy of imitation for all our 
 writers of tragedy." 
 
176 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act iii, 
 
 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 tlie princess comes ! Where is Tom Thumb .^ 
 
 Htmc. 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, Dbllallolla, 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, 
 He is alone equal to all these odds.* 
 
 ' Queen. He is, indeed, a helmet to us all ; f 
 While he supports we need not fear to fall ; 
 His arm despatches all things to our wish, 
 
 * " Credat Judasus 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 critic to Mr. Dryden's defence of his Almanzor ; and, lest that 
 shquld 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. '" 
 t " 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 viii.3> TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 177 
 
 , And serves up eVry 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 numlDer of her guests afford. 
 But at her hour she sees the dinner on the board. 
 
 Scene y II.— Plain. 
 Grizzle, Foodle, Rebels. 
 
 Griz. Thus far our arms with victory are crown'd ; 
 For, though we have not fought, yet we have found 
 No enemy to fight withal.* 
 
 Food. Yet I, 
 
 Methinks, would willingly avoid this day, 
 .This first of April to engage our foes.f 
 
 Griz. This day, of all the days of the year, I'd choose, 
 For on this day my grandmother was born. 
 Gods ! I -^ill make Tom Thumb an April-fool ; 
 Will teach his wit an errand it ne'er knew,t 
 And send it post to the Elysian shades. 
 
 Food. I'm glad to find our army is so stout. 
 Nor does it move my wonder less than joy. 
 
 Griz. What friends we have, and how we came so strong,§ 
 I'll softly tell you as we march along. 
 
 Scene VIII. — Thunder and Lightning. 
 
 Tom Thumb, Glumdalca, cum suis. 
 
 , Thumb. Oh, Noodle I hast thou seen a day like this ? 
 The unborn thunder rumbles o'er our headsj] 
 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. 
 
 * A victory like that of Almanzor : 
 
 " Almanzor is victorioas without fight." — " Conqjiest of Granada." 
 t ',' Well ha\>e we chose an happy day for fight ; 
 For every man, in course of time, has found 
 Some days are lucky, some unfortunate." — " King Arthur," 
 ' X 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.'' 
 § These lines are copied verbatim in the Indian Emperor. 
 II " Unborn thunder rolling in a cloud." — " Conquest of Granada." 
 IT " Were heaven and earth in wild confusion hurl'd, 
 Should the rash gods unhinge the roUing world, 
 Undaunted would I tread the tott'ring ball, 
 Crush'd, but unconquer'd, in the dreadful fall." — " Female Warrior." 
 
17§ ■ TOM THUMB THE GREAT. , [ACT lit. 
 
 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 mystic getting of Tom Thumb. 
 
 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. 
 
 Thumb. Lost in amazement's gulf, my senses sink ; f 
 See there, Glumdalca, see another me ! % 
 
 Glum. O, sight of horror ! see, you are deyour'd 
 By the expanded jaws of a red cow. 
 
 Merl. Let not these sights deter thy noble mindy ' • 
 
 For, lo ! a sight more glorious courts thy eyes.§ 
 See from afar a theatre arise ; 
 There ages, yet unborn, shall tribute pay 
 
 * See the History of Tom Thumb, p. 141. 
 t " Amazement swallows up my sense. 
 And in the impetuous whirl of circling fate 
 Drinks down ray reason." — " Persian Princess." 
 t " I have outfaced myself. 
 What ! am I two? Is there another me? " — " King Arthur." 
 § The character of Merlin is wonderful throughout ; but most so in this 
 prophetic part. We find several of these prophecies in the tragic authors, 
 who frequehtly 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 passed by such an 
 opportunity of being a political prophet. 
 
SCENE IX.] TOM THUMB THE GREAT. 179 
 
 To the heroic actions of this day; 
 
 Then buskin tragedy at length shall choose 
 
 Thy name the best supporter of her muse. 
 
 Thumb. Enough : let every warlike music sound. 
 We fall contented, if we fall renown'd. 
 
 Scene IX. 
 
 Lord Grizzle, Foodle, Rebels, on one sides Tom Thumb, 
 Glumdalca, on the other. 
 
 ,Food. At length the enemy advances nigh, 
 I hear them with my ear, and see them with my eye.* 
 
 Griz. Draw, all your swords : for liberty we fight, 
 And liberty the mustard is of life.f 
 
 Thumb. Are you the man whom men famed Grizzle name ? 
 
 Griz.^ Are you the much more famed Tom Thumb ? J 
 
 Thumb. The same. 
 
 Griz. Come on ; our worth upon ourselves we'll prove j 
 For liberty I fight. 
 
 Thumb. And I for love. 
 
 [A bloody engagement between the two armies; drums 
 J : beating, ttumpets sounding, thunder, lightning. 
 They fight off and on several times. Some fall. 
 Grizzle and Glumdalca remain. 
 
 Glum. Turn, coward, turn ; nor Irom 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 body, 
 And I am, dead. 
 
 Griz. Then there's an end of one. 
 
 Thumb. When thou art dead, then there's an end of two. 
 Villain. § 
 
 * "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, 
 
 t "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 beheve, best explained by a line of Mr. Dennis : 
 " And gave him liberty, the salt of life." — " Libert)' Asserted." 
 The understanding that can digest the one will not rise at the other. 
 J "//««. Are you the chief whom men famed Scipio call? 
 
 Scip. Are you the much more famous Hannibal ?" — " Hannibal." 
 § Dr Ybung seems to have copied this engagement in his Busiris : 
 Myr. Villain ! 
 Mem. Myron ! 
 Myr. Rebel! 
 Mem. Myron ! 
 Myr. Hell! 
 Mem. ^Iandane! ' 
 
i8o TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [act iii. 
 
 Griz. Tom Thumb! 
 
 Thumb. Rebel! 
 
 Griz. Tom Tliumb ! 
 
 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 
 My ghost to fetch her to the other world ;* 
 It shall but bait at heaven, and then return.-j- 
 But, ha ! I feel death rumbling in my brains :J 
 Some kinder sprite knocks softly at my soul,§ . 
 And gently whispers it to haste away. 
 I come, I come, most willingly I come. 
 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 ! " 
 
 Thumb. With those last words he vomited his soul,|| 
 Which, like whipt cream, the devil will swallow down.H 
 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. 
 
 * 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." — ' ' Conq. of Gran,'' 
 t ' ' 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." 
 "A rising vapour rumbling in my brains." — " Cleomenes." 
 5 " Some kind sprite knocks softly at my soul, 
 To tell me fate's at hand." 
 Mr. Dryden seems to have had this simile in his eye, when he says : 
 " My soul is packing up, and just on wing." — " Conq. of Gran." 
 
 "And in a purple vomit pour'd his soul."—;" Cleomenes." 
 ^ " The devil swallows vulgar souls 
 Like whipt cream." — " Sebastian." 
 
SCENE X.] TOM THUMB TkE GREAT. i8i 
 
 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, DollalloUa ; 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 to-day,t 
 And this way marches, bearing Grizzle's head.. \A daiifie here. 
 
 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 ! 
 Howl wolves ; grunt, bears ; hiss, snakes ; shriek, all ye ghosts I % 
 
 King. What does the blockhead mean ?■ 
 Nood. I mean, my hege. 
 
 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, drabs ; 
 Aloft'he bore the grizly head of Grizzle ; 
 When of a su,dden 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 swalloVd up Tom Thumb. 
 
 Kipg. Shut up again the prisons, bid my treasurer 
 Not give three farthings out — hang all the culprits, 
 
 * " How I could curse 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 fire my hand."—" Cleomenes." 
 f 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 honeymoon are apt to imagine time shorter than it is. It brings into 
 my mind a passage in the comedy called the Coffee-House Politician ; ' 
 V We will celebrate this day at my house to-morrow.' 
 X These beautiful phrases are all to be found in one single speech of 
 King Arthur, or the British Worthy. 
 
 § " I was but teaching him to grace' his tale ^ 
 
 With decent horror." — "Cleomenes." 
 
1 82 TOM THUMB THE GREAT. [ACT III. 
 
 Guilty or not — no matter. Kill my cows ! 
 Go bid the schoolmasters whip all their boys ! 
 Let lawyers, parsons, and physicians loose, 
 To rob, impose on, and to kill the world. 
 
 Nook. 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. Oh ! I am slain. 
 
 Cle. My lover's kill'd, I will revenge him so. \Kills tM QUEEN. 
 
 Himc. My mamma kill'd ! vile murderess, beware. 
 
 \Kilts Cleora. 
 
 Dood. This for an old grudge to thyheart. [A'z7/,f Huncamunca. 
 
 , Must. And this ■ i 
 
 I drive to thine, O Doodle ! for a new one. [Kills Doodle. 
 
 King. Ha ! murderess vile, take that. [Kills Must. 
 
 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. 
 
 * 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 charac- 
 ters dead on the stage. These lines too — 
 
 " I ask'd 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 origirially his. The Rival Ladies, too, seem 
 beholden to this scene : 
 
 ' ' We're now a chain of lovers lirik'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 ap- 
 plauded 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 oh Dramatic Poetry, hath 
 observed. "Whether custom," says he, " hath so insinuated itself into our 
 countrymen, or nature hath so formed thpm to fierceness, I know not ; bfit 
 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 entirely clear. 
 
Chrononhotonthologos : 
 
 THE MOST TRAGICAL TRAGEDY, THAT EVER WAS TRAGEDTZ'D 
 BY ANY COMPANY OF TRAGEDIANS. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Chrononhotonthologos, Kiiig 
 
 of Queerummania. 
 BOMBARDINIAN, his General. 
 Aldiborontiphoscophornio, 
 RiGDUM-FuNNiDOS, [Courtiers. 
 Captain of the Guards. 
 Herald. 
 Cook, 
 Doctor. 
 King of the Fiddlers. 
 
 King of the Antipodes. 
 Fadladinipa, Queen of Queerum- 
 mania. 
 Tatlanthe, her favourite. 
 Two Ladies of the Court. 
 Two Ladies of Pleasure. 
 Venus. 
 Cupid. 
 Guards and Attendants, &c. 
 
 SCENE. — Queerummani a. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 To night our comic muse the buskin wears, 
 
 And gives herself no small romantic airs ; 
 
 Struts in heroics, and in pompous verse 
 
 Does the minutest incidents rehearse ; 
 
 In ridicule's strict retrospect displays 
 
 The poetasters of these modern days : 
 
 Who with big bellowing bombast rend our ears, 
 
 Which, stript of sound, quite void of sense appears ; 
 
 Or else their fiddle-faddle numbers flow. 
 
 Serenely dull, elaborately low. 
 
 Either extreme, when 'v3,in pretenders take, 
 
 The actor suffers for the author's sake. 
 
 The quite-tir'd audience lose whole hours ; yet pay 
 
 To go unpleas'd and unimprov'd away. 
 
 This being our scheme, we hope you will excuse 
 
 The wild excursion of the wanton muse 
 
i84 CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGO^ 
 
 Whq out of frolic wears a mimic n^ask, 
 
 And sets herself so whimsical a task : ^ 
 
 'Tis meant to please, but if should offend, 
 
 It's very short, and soon will have an end. 
 
 Scene. —An Anti-Chamber in the Palace. 
 Enter RiGDUM-FUNNIDOS fl«^ Aldiborontiphoscophornio. 
 
 Rig-Fun. Aldiborontiphoscophornio ! 
 Where left you Chrononhotonthologos ? 
 
 Aldi. Fatigu'd with the tremendous toils of war, 
 Within his tent, on downy couch succumbent. 
 Himself he unfatigues with gentle slumbers, 
 LuU'd by the cheerful trumpets gladsome clangour. 
 The noise of drums, and thunder of artillery, 
 He sleeps supine amidst the din of war. 
 And yet 'tis not definitively sleep ; 
 Rather a' kind of doze, a waking slumber, ' 
 That sheds a stupefaction o'er his senses ; 
 For now he nods and snores ; anon. he starts ; 
 Then nods and snores again. If this be sleep. 
 Tell me, ye gods ! what mortal man's awake ! 
 What says my friend to this .'' 
 
 Rig.-Fun. Say ! 1 say he sleeps dog-sleep : What a plague 
 would you have me say ? 
 
 Aldi. O impious thought 1 O curst insinuation ! 
 As if great Chrononhotonthologos 
 To animals detestable and vile 
 Had aught the least similitude ! 
 
 Rig. My dear friend ! you entirely misapprehend me : I 
 did not call the king dog by craft ; I was only going to tell you 
 that the soldiers have just now receiv'd their pay, and are all as 
 drunk as so many swabbers. 
 
 Aldi. Give orders instantly that no more money 
 Be issued to the troops. Meantime, my friend. 
 Let the baths be filled with seas of coffee, 
 To stupefy their souls into sobriety. 
 
 Rig. I fancy you had better banish the sutlers, and blow the 
 Geneva casks to the devil. 
 
 Aldi. Thou counsel'st well, my Rigduni-Funnidos, 
 And reason seems to father thy advice. 
 But soft ! — The king in pensive contemplation 
 Seems to resolve on some important doubt ; 
 His soul, too copious for his earthly fabric, 
 Starts forth, spontaneous, in soliloquy, 
 And makes his tongue the midwife of his mind. 
 Let us retire, lest we disturb his solitude. {They retire. 
 
V CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 185 
 
 i 
 
 Enter King. 
 
 King. This god of sleep is watchful to torment me. 
 And rest is grown a stranger to my eyes : 
 Spoirt not with Chrononhotonthologos, 
 Thou idle slumb'rer, thou detested Somnus : 
 For if thou dost, by all the waking pow'rs, 
 I'll tear thine eyeballs from their leaden' sockets, 
 And force thee to outstare eternity. \_Exit in a huff. 
 
 Re-enter Rigdum aud Aldiboronti. 
 
 Rig. The kjhg is in a most vile passion ! Pray who is this 
 Mr. Somnus he's so angry withal ? 
 
 Aldi. The son of Chaos and of Erebus. 
 Incestuous pair ! brother of Mors relentless. 
 Whose speckled robe, and wings of blackest hue, 
 Astonish all mankind with hideous glare ; 
 Himself with sable plumes, to men benevolent, 
 Brings downy slumbers and refreshing sleep. 
 
 ,Rig-Fun. This gentleman may come of a very good family, 
 for aught I know ; but I would not be in his place for the world. 
 
 Aldi. But, lo ! the king his footsteps this way bending, 
 His cogitative faculties immers'd 
 In'cogibundity of cogitation : 
 Let silence close our folding-doors of speech. 
 Till apt attention tell our heart the purport 
 Of this profound profundity of thought. 
 
 Re-enter KiNG, Nobles, and Attendants, &»f. 
 
 King. ' It is resolv'd. Now, Somnus, I defy thee. 
 And from mankind ampute thy curs'd dominion. 
 These royal eyes thou never more shalt close. 
 Henceforth let no man sleep, on pain of death : 
 Instead of sleep, let pompous pageantry 
 Keep all mankind eternally awake. 
 Bid Harlequino decorate the stage 
 With all magnificence of decoration : 
 Giants and giantesses, dwarfs and pigmies. 
 Songs, dances, music in its amplest order, 
 Mimes, pantomimes, and all the magic motion 
 Of scene deceptiosive and sublime. \7 he flat scene draws. 
 
 \The King ts seated, and a grand pantomime 
 entertainment is •performed., in the 7nidst of 
 which enters a Captain of the Guard. 
 
 Cqpt. To arms ! to arms ! great Chrononhotonthologos I 
 Th' antipodean pow'rs from realms below 
 
i86 CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 
 
 Have burst the solid entrails of the earth; 
 Gushing such cataracts of forces forth, 
 This world is too incopious to contain 'em : 
 Armies on armies, march in form stupendous ; 
 Not like our earthly regions, rank by rank, 
 But tier o'er tier, high pil'd from earth to heaven ; 
 A blazing bullet, bigger than the, sun, _ , 
 Shot from a huge and monstrous culyerin, 
 Has laid your royal citadel in ashes. 
 
 King. Peace, coward ! were they wedg'd like golden ingots. 
 Or pent so close, as to admit no vacuum ; 
 One look from Crononhotonthologos 
 , Shall scare them into nothing. Rigdunj-Funnidos, 
 Bid Bombardinion draw his legions forth, 
 And meet us in the plains -of Queerummania. 
 This very now ourselves shall there conjoin him ; 
 Meantime, bid all the priests prepare their temples 
 For rites of triumph : let the singing singers. 
 With vocal voices, most vociferous. 
 In sweet vociferation, outvociferize 
 Ev'n sound itself. So be it as we have order'd. [Exeuut omnes. 
 
 Scene. — A magnificent Apartment. 
 Enter Oueen, Tatlanthe, and tvjo Ladies. 
 
 Queen. Day's curtain drawn, the morn begins to rise, 
 And waking nature rubs her sleepy eyes : 
 The pretty little fleecy bleating flocks, 
 In baas harmonious warble thro' the rocks : 
 Night gathers up her shades in sable shrouds, 
 And whispering osiers tattle to the clouds. 
 What think you, ladies, if an hour we kill, 
 At basset, ombre, picquet, or quadrille ? 
 
 Tat. Your majesty was pleas'd to order tea. 
 
 Queen. My mind is alter'd ; bring some ratifia. 
 
 \They are served round with a dram. 
 I hftve a famous fiddler sent from France. 
 , Bid him come in. What think ye of a dance 'i 
 
 Enter Fiddler. 
 
 Fid. Thus to your majesty, says the suppliant muse, 
 W0UI4 you a solo or sonata choose ; 
 Or bold "concerto or soft Sicilinia, 
 Alia Francese overo in Gusto Romano ? 
 When you command, 'tis done as soon as spoke. 
 
CHUONONHOtOiSfTHOLOGOS. 187 
 
 Queeen. A civil fellow ! Play us the " Black Joak." 
 
 \_Music ■plays. 
 [Queen and Ladies dani^e the " Black Joak." 
 So much for dancing ; now let's rest a while. 
 Bring iii the,tea-things. Does the kettle boil ? 
 
 , Tat. The water bubbles and the tea-cups skip, 
 Through eager hope to kiss your royal lip. \Tea brotight in. 
 
 Queen. Come, ladies, will you please to choose your tea ; ' 
 Or green imperial, or Pekoe Bohea ? 
 
 1st Lady. Never, no, never sure on earth was seen, 
 So gracious sweet and affable a queen. 
 
 ind Lady. She is an angel. 
 
 \st Lady. She's a goddess rather. 
 
 Tat. She's angel, queen, and goddess, altogether. 
 
 Qfteen. Away ! you flatter me. 
 
 1st Lady. We don't indeed : 
 
 Your merit does our praise by far exceed. 
 
 Queen. You make me blush ; pray help me to a fan. 
 
 ij^ Lady. That blush becomes you. 
 
 Tat. , Would I were a man. 
 
 Queen. I'll hear no more of these fantastic airs. ^Belt rings. 
 The beir rings in. Come, ladies, let's to pray'rs.' 
 
 \They dance off. 
 
 Scene. — An Anti-Chamber. 
 Enter Rigdum-Funnidos and Aldiborontiphoscophornio- 
 
 Rig. Egad, we're in the wrong box ! Who the devil would 
 have thought that Chrononhotonthologos should beat that mortal 
 sight of Tippodeans ? Why, there's not a mother's child of them 
 to be seen, egad, they footed it away as fast as their hands could 
 qarry 'em 5 but they have left their king behind 'em. We have 
 him safe, that's one comfort. 
 
 Aldi. Would he were still at amplest liberty. 
 For, oh ! my dearest Rigdum-FunnidoSj 
 I have a riddle to unriddle to thee, 
 Shall make thee stare thyself into a statue;. 
 Our queen's in love with this Antipodean; 
 
 Rigduni. The devil she is.'' Well, I see tnischief is going 
 forward with a vengeance. 
 
 Aldi. But, lo ! the conq'ror comes all crown'd with conquest ! 
 A solemn triumph graces his return; 
 Let's grasp the forelock of this apt occasion, 
 To greet the victor, in his flow of glory. 
 
 \A grand triumph^ 
 
188^ CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 
 
 Enter Chrononhotonthologos, Guards and Attendants, 
 
 &»<:., met by RiGDUM-FUNNIDOS a«rf ALDIBORONTIPHOS- 
 COPHRONIO. 
 
 Aldi. All hail to Chrononhotonthologos ! 
 Thrice trebly welcome to your royal subjects. 
 Myself, and faithful Rigdum-Funnidos, , 
 Lost in a labyrinth of love and loyalty, 
 Entreat you to inspect our inmost souls, 
 And read in them what tongue can never utter. 
 
 Chro. Aldiborontiphoscophornio, 
 To thee, and gentle Rigdum-Funnidos, 
 Our gratulations flow in streams unbounded : 
 Our bounty's debtor to your loyalty, 
 Which shall with inter'st be repaid ere long. 
 But where's our queen ? where's Fadladinida ? 
 She should be foremost in the gladsome train, 
 To grace our triumph ; but I see she slights me. 
 This haughty queen shall be no longer mine, 
 I'll have a sweet and gentle concubine. 
 
 Rig. Now, my dear little Phoscophorny, for a swinging- lie to 
 bring the queen off, and I'll run with it to her this minute, that 
 we may be all in a story. Say she has got the thoroiigh-go- 
 nimble. {Whispers, and steals off. 
 
 Aldi. Speak not, great Chrononhotonthologos, 
 In accents so injuriously severe 
 Of Fadladinida, your faithful queen : 
 By me she sends an embassy of love, 
 Sweet blandishments and kind congratulations. 
 But, cannot, oh ! she cannot, come herself. 
 
 King. Our rage is turn'd to fear : what ails the queen ? 
 
 Aldi. A sudden diarrhoea's rapid force, 
 So stimulates the peristaltic motion, 
 That she by far out-does her late out-doing. 
 And all conclude her royal life in danger. 
 
 King. Bid the physicians of the world assemble 
 In consultation, solemn and sedate : 
 Moie, to corroborate their sage resolves, 
 CJall from their graves the learned men of old : 
 Galen, Hippocrates, and Paracelsus ; 
 ipoctors, apothecaries, surgeons, chemists, 
 All ! all ! attend ; and see they bring their med'cines, 
 Whole magazines of galli-potted nostrums, 
 Materializ'd in pharmaceutic order. 
 The man that cures our queen shall have our empite. 
 
 {Exeunt omnes. 
 
CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 189 
 
 Scene. — A Garden. 
 Enter Tatlanthe and QUEEN. 
 
 Queen. Heigh ho ! my heart ! 
 
 Tat. What ailj my gracious queen ? 
 
 Queen. Oh, would to Venus I hid never seen ! 
 
 Tat. Seen what, my royal mistress ? 
 
 Queen. Too, too much ! 
 
 Tat. Did it affright ycu ? 
 
 Queen. No, 'tis nothing such. 
 
 Tat. What was it, madam .'' 
 
 Queen. Really I don't know. 
 
 Tat. It must be something ! 
 
 Queen. No ! 
 
 Tat. Or nothing ! 
 
 Queen. No. 
 
 Tat. Then I conclude, of course, since it was neither, 
 Nothing and something jumbled well together. 
 
 Queen. Oh ! my Tatlanthe, have you never seen ! 
 
 Tat. Can I guess what, unless you tell, my queen 1 
 
 Queen. The king 1 meam 
 
 Tat. Just now return'd from war : 
 
 He rides like Mars in his triumphal car. 
 Conquest precedes with laurels in his hand ; 
 Behind him Fame does on her tripos stand ; 
 Her golden trump shrill thro' the air she sounds, 
 Which rends the earth, and then to heaven rebounds ; 
 Trophies and spoils innumerable grace 
 This triumph, which all triumphs does deface : 
 Haste then, great queen ! your hero thus to meet. 
 Who longs to lay his laurels at your feet. 
 
 Queen. Art mad, Tatlanthe .' I meant no such thing. 
 Your talk's distasteful. 
 
 Tat. Didn't you name the king ? 
 
 Queen. I did, Tatlanthe, but it was not thine ; 
 The charming king I mean is only mine. 
 
 Tat. Who else, who else, but such a charming fair. 
 In Chrononhotonthologos should share? 
 The queen of beauty, and the god of arms, 
 In him and you united blend their charms. 
 Oh ! had you seen him, how he dealt out death, 
 And at one stroke robb'd thousands of their breath : 
 While on the slaughter'd heaps himself dii rise. 
 In pyramids of conquest to the skies. 
 The gods all hail'd, and fain would have him stay ; 
 But your bright charms have call'd him thence away. 
 
l^o CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS 
 
 Qiteen. This does my utmost indignation raise': 
 You are too pertly lavish in Ms' praise. 
 Lesive me for ever ! ~ [Tatlanthe kneeling. 
 
 tat. • Oh ! what shall I say ? 
 
 Do not, great queen, your anger thus display ! 
 Oh, frown me dead ! let me not liveto hear 
 My gracious queen and mistress so severe ! 
 I've made some horrible inistake, no doubt ; 
 Oh ! tell me what it is ! 
 
 Queen. ' No, find it out. 
 
 Tat. No, I will never leave you ; here I'll grow 
 Till you some token of forgiveness show. 
 Oh ! all ye powers above, come down, come down ! 
 And from her brow, dispel that angry frown. 
 
 Queen. Tatlanthe, rise, you have prevail'd at lasf ; 
 Offend no more, and I'll excuse what's past. 
 
 [Tatlanthe aside, rising. 
 
 Tat. Why, what a fool was I, not to perceive her passion for 
 the topsy-turvy king — the gentleman that carries his head where 
 his heels should be ! But I must tack about, I see. 
 
 Ta the Queen. 
 
 Excuse me, gracious madam, if my heart 
 Bears sympathy with yours in every part ; 
 With. you alike, I sorrow and rejoice, 
 Approve your passion, and commend your choice ; 
 The captive king. 
 
 QMeen. ' That's he ! that's he ! that's he ! 
 
 I'd die ten thousand deaths to set him free. 
 Oh ! my Tatlanthe ! have you seen his face, 
 His air, his shape, his mien, his eVry grace ? ' 
 In what a charming attitude he stands, 
 How prettily he foots it with his hands ! 
 Well, to his arms, no to his legs I fly. 
 For I must have him, if I live or die. \ExeunL 
 
 SCENEi — A Bedchamber, 
 
 CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS asleep. 
 
 \Rough music, viz., salt-boxes aii'd rOlling-pins, 
 gridirons and tongs j sow-gelders' horns, mar- 
 rowbones and cleavers, &'c. &^c. He wakes. 
 
 Chr'o. What heay'nly sounds are these that charjnmy ears 1 
 Sure 'tis the music of the tuneful spheres. 
 
CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 191 
 
 Enter Captain of the Guards. 
 
 Cap. A messenger from Gen'ral Bombardinion 
 Craves instant audience of your majesty. 
 Chro. Give him admittance. 
 
 Enter Herald.' 
 
 I/er. Long life to Chrononhotonthologos I 
 Your faithful Gen'ral Bombardinion 
 Sends you his tongue, transplanted in my mouth, 
 To pour his soul out in your royal ears. 
 
 Chro. Then use thy master's tongue with reverence. 
 Nor waste it in thine own loquacity, \ 
 
 But briefly and at large declare thy message. 
 
 //^r. Suspend awliile, great Chrononhotonthologos, 
 The fate qf empires and the toils of war ; 
 And in my tent let's quaff Falernian wine 
 Till our souls mount and emulate the gods. 
 Tw6 captive females, beauteous as the morn, 
 Submissive to your wishes, court your option. 
 Haste then, great king, to bless us with your presence. 
 -Our scouts already watch the wish'd approach, 
 Which shall be welcom'd by the drums' dread rattle, 
 The cannons' thunder, and the trumpets' blast ; 
 While I, in front of mighty myrmidons, 
 Receive my king in all the pomp of war. 
 
 Chro. Tell him I come ; my flying steed prepare ; 
 Ere thou art half on horseback I'll be there. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene.— ^ Prison. 
 
 The King of the Antipodes discover'd sleeping on a couch. 
 Enter Queen. 
 
 Queen. Is this a prlace, oh ! all ye gods above, 
 , TJiis a reception for the man I love ? 
 See in what sweet tranquillity he sleeps, 
 While Nature's self at his confinement weeps. 
 Rise, lovely monarch ! see your friend appear. 
 No Chrononhotonthologos is here ; 
 Command your freedom, by this sacred ring ; 
 Then command me. What says my charming king ? 
 
 \_She puts the ring in his mouth, he bends the 
 sea-crab, and makes a roaring noise. 
 Queen. What can this mean ! he lays his feet at mine : 
 Is this of love or hate, his country's sign .' 
 
192 CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 
 
 Ah ! wretched queen ! how hapless is thy lot, 
 
 To love a man that understands thee not ! > 
 
 Oh ! lovely Venus, goddess all divine ! 
 
 And gentle Cupid, that sweet son of thine, 
 
 Assist, assist me, with your sacred art. 
 
 And teach me to obtain this stranger's heart. 
 
 Venus descends in her chariot^ and sings. 
 
 Atr. 
 
 Ven, See Venus does attend thee, 
 
 My dilding, my dolding. 
 Love's goddess will befriend thee, 
 
 Lily bright and shiny. 
 With pity and compassion, 
 
 My dilding, my dolding, 
 She sees thy tender passion, 
 
 Lily, &c. Da capo. 
 
 Air changes. 
 To thee I yield my pow'r divine. 
 
 Dance over the Lady Lee, 
 Demand whate'er thou wilt, 'tis thine, 
 
 My gay lady. 
 Take this magic wand in hand, 
 
 Dance, &c. 
 All the world's at thy command. 
 
 My gay, &c. Da ca^o. 
 
 Cupid descends and sings. 
 
 Air. 
 
 Are you a widow, or are you a wife? 
 
 ' Gilly-flow'r, gentle rosemary. 
 
 Or are you a maiden, so fair and so bright ? 
 
 As the dew that flies over the mulberry-tree. 
 Queen. Would I were a widow, as I am a wife, 
 
 Gilly-flow'r, &c. 
 But I'm to my sorrow, a maiden as bright. 
 
 As the dew, &c., 
 Cupid. You shall be a widow before it is night, 
 
 Gilly-flow'r, &c. i 
 
 No longer a maiden so fair and so bright. 
 
 As the dew, &c. 
 Two jolly young husbands your favour shall share, 
 Gilly-flow'r, &c. 
 And twenty fine babies all lovely and fair, 
 
 As the, dew, &e. 
 Queen. O thanks, Mr. Cupid ! for this your good news, 
 
 Gilly-flow'r, &c. 
 What woman alive would such favours refuse? 
 
 While the dew, &c. 
 
 [Venus a7irf Cupid re-ascend j the Queen goes off, 
 and the King of the Antipodes follows, ivalkint; 
 on his hands. Scene closes. 
 
CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 193 
 
 Scene. — Bombardinion's Tent. 
 King and Bombardinion, at a table, with two Ladies. 
 
 Bomb. This honour, royal sir ! so royalizes 
 The royalty of your most royal actions, 
 The dumb can only utter forth your praise ; 
 For we, who speak, want words to tell our meaning. 
 Here ! fill the goblet with Falernian wine, 
 And, while our monarch drinks, bid the shrill trumpet 
 Tell all the gods, that we propine their healths. 
 
 King. Hold, Bombardinion, I esteem it fit, 
 With so much wine, to eat a little bit. 
 
 Bomb. See that the table instantly be spread, 
 With all that art and nature can produce. 
 Traverse from pole to pole ; sail round the globe, 
 Bring every eatable that can be eat : 
 The king shall eat ; tho' all mankind be starv'd. 
 
 Cook. I am afraid his majesty will be starv'd, before I can 
 run round the world, for a dinner ; besides, where's the money ? 
 
 King. Ha ! dost thou prattle, contumacious slave t 
 Guards, seize the villain .■' broil him, fry him, stew him ; 
 Ourselves shall eat him out of mere revenge. 
 
 Cook. O pray, your majesty, spare my life ; there's some nice 
 cold pork in tlie pantry : I'll hash it for your majesty in a 
 minute. 
 
 King. Be thou first hash'd in hell, audacious slave. 
 
 [Kills him, and turns to Bombardinion. 
 Hash'd pork ! shall Chrononhotonthologos 
 Be fed with swine's -flesh, and at second-hand .' 
 Now, by the gods ! thou dost insult us, genei-al ! 
 
 Bomb. The gods can witness, that I little thought 
 Your majesty to other flesh than this 
 Had aught the least propensity. [Points to the ladies. 
 
 King. Is this a dinner for a hungry monarch ? 
 
 Bomb. Moriarchs, as great as Chrononhotonthologos, 
 Have made a very hearty meal of worse. 
 
 King. Ha ! traitor ! dost thou brave me to my teeth .■' 
 Take this reward, and learn to mock thy master. [Strikes Mm. 
 
 Bomb. A blow ! shall Bombardinion take a blow ? 
 Blush ! bjush, thou sun ! start back thou rapid ocean ! 
 Hills ! vales ! seas ! mountains ! all commixing crumble, 
 And into chaos pulverize the world ; 
 For Bombardinion has receiv'd a blow, 
 
 And Chrononhotonthologos shall die. [Draws. 
 
 [The women run off, crying, "Help ! Murder J" S^c. 
 
 G 
 
194 CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 
 
 King. What me 
 Bomb. 
 Thus I defy thee ! 
 
 King. What means the traitor ? 
 
 Bomb. Traitor in thy teeth, 
 
 \_Tkey fight, he kills the King. 
 Ha ! what have I done ? 
 Go, call a coach, and let a coach be caU'd ; 
 And let the man that calls it be "the caller; 
 And, in his calling, let him nothing call, 
 But coach ! coach ! coach ! Oh ! for a coach, ye gods ! 
 
 \Exit raving. 
 
 Returns with a DOCTOR. 
 
 Bomb. How fares your majesty ? 
 
 Doct. My lord, he's dead. 
 
 Bomb. Ha ! dead ! impossible ! it cannot be ! 
 I'd not believe it, tho' himself should swear it. 
 Go join his body to his soul again. 
 Or, by this light, thy soul shall quit thy body. 
 
 Doct. My lord, he's far beyond the power of physic, ' 
 His soul- has left his body and this world. 
 
 Bomb. Then go to t'other world and fetch it back. 
 
 \Kills him. 
 And, if I find thou triflest with me there, 
 I'll chase thy shade through myriads of orbs, 
 And drive thee far beyond the verge of Nature. 
 Ha ! — Call'st thou, Chrononhotonthologos ? 
 > I come \ your faithful Bombardinion comes ! 
 He comes in worlds, unknqwn to make new wars. 
 And gain thee empires num'rous as the stars. 
 
 [Kills himself. 
 
 Enter OueeN and other s. 
 
 Aldi. O horrid ! horrible, and horrid'st horror I 
 Our king I our general ! our cook I our doctor Ii 
 All dead ! stone- dead ! irrevocably dead ! 
 O — -h \' [All groan, a tragedy groan. 
 
 Queen, My husband dead ! ye gods I what is't you mean, 
 To make a widow of a virgin queen ? 
 For, to my great misfortune, he, poor king, 
 Has left me so ; aiht that a wretched thing ? 
 
 Tat. Why then, dear madam, make me no farther pother, 
 Were I your majesty,' I'd try another. 
 
 Queen. I think 'tis best to follow thy advice. - 
 
 Tat. I'll fit you with a husband in a trice : 
 Here's Rigdum-Fimnidos, a proper man j 
 If any one can please a queen, hs can. 
 
 Rig-Ftm. Ay, that I can, and please your majesty. 
 So, ceremonies apart, let s proceed to business. 
 
CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS. 195 
 
 Queen. Oli ! but the mourning takes up all riiy care, 
 I'm at a loss what kind of weeds to wear. 
 
 Rig-Fun. Never talk of mourning, madam, 
 One ounce of mirth is worth a pound of sorrow, 
 Take me at once, and let us wed to-morrow. 
 I'll make thee a great man, my little PhoScophorny. 
 ; \To Aldi. aside. 
 
 Aldi. I scorn your bounty ; I'll be king, or nothing. 
 Draw, miscreant ! draw ! 
 ' Rig. No, sir, I'll take the law. 
 
 [Runs behind, the QUEEN 
 
 Queen. Well, gentlemen, to make the matter easy, 
 I'll have you both ; and that, I hope, willplease ye. 
 And now, Tatlanthe, thou art all my care : 
 Mfhere shall I find thee such another pair .■' 
 Pity that you, who've serv'd so long, so well. 
 Should die a virgin, and lead apes in hell. 
 Choose for yourself, dear girl, our empire round. 
 Your portion is twelve hundred thousand pound. 
 
 Aldi. Here ! take these dead and bloody corps away ; 
 Make preparation for our wedding day. 
 Instead of sad solemnity, and black. 
 Our hearts shall swim in claret, and in sack. 
 
The next piece is taken from successive niimhers of Th 
 Anti-Jacobin, which was planned by Canning, atid Oj 
 which the first number appeared on the 20th of November'^ 
 1797. ^^ The Rovers, or the Double Ari-angemenf, 
 •was the joint work of George Canning, George Ellis, 
 and John Hookham Frere. 
 
The Rovers ; 
 
 OR, THE DOUBLE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Prior pf the Abbey of Quedlin- 
 BURGH, very corpulent and cruel. 
 
 ROGERO, a Prisoner in the Abbey, 
 in love with MATILDA POTTIN- 
 GEN. 
 
 Casimere, a Polish Emigrant, in 
 Dembrowsky' s Legion, married 
 to Cecilia, b-ut having several 
 children by MATILDA. 
 
 PUDDINGFIELD and BeEFINGTON, 
 
 English Noblemen exiled by the 
 
 • Tyranny of King John, pre- 
 
 -vious to the signature of Magna 
 
 Charta. 
 
 RODERIC, Count of Saxe Weimar, 
 a bloody Tyrant, with red hair, 
 and an ajnorous complexion. 
 
 Caspar, the Minister of the Count; 
 Author of Rogf.RO's confine- 
 ment. 
 
 Young Pottingen, brother to Ma- 
 tilda. 
 
 Matilda Pottingen, in Ime with 
 Rogero, and mother to Casi- 
 mere' s children. 
 
 Cecilia Muckenfeld, wife to 
 Casimere. 
 
 Landlady, Waiter, Grenadiers, 
 Troubadours, b'c, 
 
 Pantalowsky, and Britchinda, 
 children o/" Matilda, by Casi- 
 mere. 
 
 Joachim, Jabel, (7«rf Amar antha, 
 children of Matilda, by 
 Rogero. 
 
 ChildrenofCASlME'B.^andCzaiAtL, 
 
 with their respective Nurses. 
 
 Several Children ; Fathers and 
 
 Mothers unknown. 
 
 The Scene lies in the Town of Weimar, and the Neighbour- 
 hood OF the Abbey of Quedlineurgh. 
 
 Time, from the Twelfth to the present Century. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 (Jn character^ 
 
 Too Ipng the triumphs of our early times, 
 With civil discord, and with regal crimes. 
 Have staiii'd these boards ; while Shakespeare's pen 
 
 has shown 
 Thoughts, manners, men, to modern days unknown. 
 Too long have Rome and Athens been the rage ; {Applause. 
 And classic buskins soil'd a British stage. 
 
198 THE ROVERS. 
 
 To-night our bard, who scorns pedantic rules, ' 
 
 His plot has borrow'd from the German schools ; 
 
 —The German schools—where no dull maxirfts bind 
 
 The bold expansion of the electric mind. 
 
 Fix'd to no period, circled by no space, , 
 
 He leaps the flaming bounds of time and place : 
 
 Round the dark confines of the forest raves,, 
 
 With gentle robbers* stocks his gloomy caves ; 
 
 Tells how prime ministers f are shocking things, 
 
 And reigning dukes as bad as tyrant kings ; 
 
 How to two swains J .one nymph her vows may give, 
 
 And how two damsels with one lover live ! 
 
 Delicious scenes ! — such scenes our bard displays. 
 
 Which, crown'd with German, sue for British, praise. 
 
 Slow are the steeds, that through Germania's roads 
 
 With hempen rein the slumbering post-boy goads ; 
 
 Slow is the slumbering post-boy, who proceeds 
 
 Through deep sands floundering, on those tardy steeds ;' 
 
 More slow, more tedious, ,from his husky throat 
 
 Twangs through the twisted horn the struggling note. 
 
 These truths confess'd — Oh ! yet, ye travell'd few, 
 
 Germania's plays with eyes unjaundiced view ! 
 
 View and approve ! — though m each passage fine 
 
 The faint translation § mock the genuine line ; 
 
 Though the nice ear the erring sight belie, 
 
 For U twice dotted is pronounced like /,■ [Applause. ' 
 
 ' • See the "Robbers," a German tragedy, in which robbery is put in so 
 fascinating a light, that the whole of a German University went upon the , 
 highway in consequence of it. ' 
 
 t See " Cabal and Love," a German tragedy, very severe against Prime 
 Ministers and reigning Dukes of Brunswick. This admirable perlormance 
 very judiciously reprobates the hire of German troops for the American war 
 in the reign of Queen Elizabeth — a practice which would undoubtedlyliave 
 been highly discreditable to that wise and patriotic princess, not to say 
 wholly unnecessary, there being no American war at that particular time. 
 
 t Seethe "Stranger; or, Reform'd Housekeeper,'' in which the former 
 of these morals is beautifully illustrated ; and "Stella," a genteel German 
 comedy, which ends with placing a man bodkin between iiDO wives, like 
 Thames between his two banks, in the " Critic." Nothing can be more edify- 
 ing than these two dramas. I am shocked to hear that there are some 
 people who think them ridiculous. 
 
 § These are the warnings very properly given to readers, to beware how 
 they judge of what they cannot understand. Thus, if the translation runs 
 "lightning of my soul, fulguration of angels, sulphur of hell ;" we should , 
 recollect that this is not coarse or strange in the German language, when ; 
 applied by a lover to his mistress ; but the English has nothing precisely ',' 
 parallel' to the original Mulychause' Archangelichen, which means rather 
 "emanation of the archangelican nature" — or to Smellmynkern Vankelfer, 
 which, if Hterally rendered, would signify ' ' made of stuff of the same odour 
 whereof the devil makes flambeaux." See Schiittenbriich on the Germanj 
 Idiom. 
 
-SCENE I.] THE ROVEkS. 199 
 
 Yet oft the scene shall Nature's fire impart, 
 
 'Vlaxrafroin the 'breast, and glowing to the heart ! 
 
 Ye travell'd few, attend ! On you pur bard 
 
 Builds his fond hope ! Do you his genius guard ! [Applause. 
 
 Nor let succeeding generations say — 
 
 A British audience damn'd a German play. 
 
 [Loud and continued applauses. 
 [Flash of lightning. — The ghost 0/" Prologue's Grand- 
 mother, by the father's side, appears to soft music, in 
 a white tiffany riding-hood. Prologue kneels to 
 receive her blessing, which she gives in a solemn and 
 affecting manner, the aiidience clapping and crying all 
 the while. — Flash of lightning. — Prologue and his 
 Grandmother sin^ through the trap-door. 
 
 ACT I.— Scene I. 
 
 Represents a notn at an Inn, at Weimar — On one side 
 of the- stage the bar-room, with jellies, lemons in nets, 
 syllabubs, and part of a cold roast fowl. Si^c. — On the op- 
 posite side a window looking into the street, through which 
 persons {inhabitants of Weimar) are seen passing to attdfro 
 in apparent agitafion. — Matilda appears in a great-coat 
 and riding habit, seated at the corner of the dinner-table, 
 which is covered with a clean huckaback cloth. — Plates and 
 napkins, with bucMs-horn-ha7idled kitives and forks, are 
 laid as if for four persons. 
 
 Matilda. 
 
 Mat. Is it impossible for me to haye dinner sooner ? 
 
 Land. Madam, the Brunswick post-waggon is not yet come in, 
 and the ordinary is never before two o'clock. 
 ' Mat. [with a look expressive of disappointment, but im- 
 mediately recomposin^ herself]. Well, then, I must have patience. 
 [_Exit Landlady.] Oh Casimere ! How often have the thoughts 
 of thee served to amuse these moments of expectation ! What 
 a difference, alas ! Dinner — it is taken away as soon as over, 
 and we regret it not ! It returns again with the return of 
 •appetite. The beef of to-morrow will succeed to the mutton of 
 to-day, as the mutton of to-day succeeded to the veal of yester- 
 day. But when once the heart has been occupied by a beloved 
 object, in vain would we attempt to supply the chasm by 
 another. How easily are our desires tiransferred from dish to 
 dish ! Love only, dear, delusive, delightful love, restrains our 
 wandering appetites, and confines them to a particular gratifica- 
 tion ! . .. . 
 
 V 
 
20O THE ROVERS. [act i. 
 
 Post-horn blows.— Re-enter LANDLADY. 
 
 .Land. Madam, the post-waggon is come in with only a single 
 gentlewoman. 
 
 Mat. Then show her up— and let us have dinner instantly ; 
 \ Landlady going] and remember— [a/;?^^ a momenfs recollection, 
 and with great eagerness'\ — remember the toasted cheese. 
 
 {Exit Landlady. 
 
 Cecilia enters, in a brown cloth riding-dress, as if just alighted 
 from the post-waggon. 
 
 Mat. Madam, you seem to have had an unpleasant journey, if 
 I may judge from the dust on your riding-habit. 
 
 Cec. The wa.y was dusty, madam, but the weather was 
 delightful. It recall'd to me those blissful moments when the 
 rays of desire first vibrated through' my soul, 
 
 Mat. \jiside\ Thank Heaven ! I have at last found a heart 
 which is in unison with my own [to Cecilia']. Yes, I understand 
 you — the first pulsation of sentiment — the silver tones upon the 
 yet unsounded harp. ... 
 
 Cec. The dawn of life — when this blossom [putting her. hand 
 upon her heart] first expanded its petals to the penetrating dart 
 of love ! 
 
 Mat. ' Yes — the time — the golden time, when the first beams 
 of the morning meet and embrace one another ! The blooming 
 blue upon the yet unplucked plum ! . . . 
 
 Cec. Your countenance grows animated, my dear madam. 
 
 Mat. And yours too is glowing with illumination. 
 
 Cec. I had long been looking out for a congenial spirit ! My 
 heart was withered, but the beams of youi's have rekindled it. 
 
 Mat. A sudden thought strikes me : let us swear an eternal 
 friendship. 
 
 Cec. Let us agree to live together ! 
 
 Mat. WiUingly. \_With rapidity and earnestness.' 
 
 Cec. Let us embrace. ' \They embrace. 
 
 Mat. Yes ; I too have loved !— you, too, like me, have been 
 forsaken ! [Doubtingly and as if with a desire to be, informed. 
 
 Cec. Too true ! 
 
 Both. Ah, these men ! these men ! 
 
 Landlady enters, and places a leg of muiion on the table, tviih 
 sour krout and prime sauce — then a small dish of black 
 puddings. Cecilia and Matilda appear to take no notice, 
 of her. 
 
 Mat. Oh, Casimere ! 
 
 Cec. {aside]. Casimere ! that name ! Oh, my heart, how it is 
 distracted with anxiety. 
 
SCENE I ] THE ROVERS. 
 
 201 
 
 Mat. Heavens ; Madam, you turn pale. 
 
 Cec. Nothing— a slight megrim — with your leave, I will retire. 
 _ Mat. I will attend you. 
 
 \Exeunt Matilda and Cecilia. Manent Land- 
 . lady and Waiter with the dinner on the table. 
 
 Land. Have you carried the dinner to the prisoner in the 
 vaults of the abbey ! 
 
 Waiter. Yes. Pease-soup, as usual— with the scrag-end of a 
 neck of mutton-'-the emissary of the Count was here again this 
 morning, and offered me a large sum of money if I would con- 
 sent to poison him. 
 
 Land. Which you refused ? [ With hesitation and anxiety. 
 
 Waiter. Can you doubt it ? [ With indignation. 
 
 \ Land, [recovering herself, and drawing up with an expression 
 of dignity]. The conscience of a poor man is as valuable to him 
 as that of a prince. 
 
 Waiter. It ought to be still more so, in proportion as it is 
 generally more pure. 
 
 Land. Thou say'st truly, Job. 
 
 Waiter [with enthusiasni]. He who can spurn at wealth when 
 proffer'd as the price of crime, is greater than a prince. 
 
 Post-horn blows. Enter Casimere, in a travellifig dress — a 
 light blue great-co'at with large metal buttons — his hair in a 
 long queue, but twisted at the ends a large Kevenhuller hat ; 
 a cane in his hand. 
 
 Cas. Here, waiter, pull offmy boots, and bring me a pair of 
 slippers [Exit Waiter]. And heark'ye, my lad, a bason of 
 water [rubbing his hands'] and a bit of soap — I have not washed 
 since I began my journey. 
 
 Waiter [answering fiom behind the door]. Yes, sir. 
 Cas. Well, landlady, what company are we to have ? 
 Land. Only two gentlewomen, sir. They are just stepp'd 
 into the next room — they will be back again in a minute. 
 Cas. Where do they come from .' 
 
 [All this while the Waiter re-eitters with the 
 
 bason and water, Casimer'E pulls off his boots, 
 
 takes a napkin from the table, and washes his 
 
 face and hands. 
 
 Land. There is one of them, I think, comes from Nuremburgh. 
 
 Cas. [aside]. From Nuremburgh ; [with eagerness] her 
 
 name ? 
 
 Land. Matilda. 
 I Cas. [aside]. How does this idiot woman torment me ! What 
 , else ? 
 , Land. I can't recollect. 
 
 Cas. Oh agony ! [In a paroxysm of agitation. 
 
203 
 
 THE ROVERS. , [act i. 
 
 Waiter. See here, her name upon the travelling trunk — 
 Matilda Pottingen. 
 
 Cas. Ecstasy ! ecstasy ! ' [Embracing the WAITER. 
 
 Land. You seem to be acquainted with the lady — shall I call 
 her? 
 
 Cas. Instantly — instantly — tell her, her loved, her long lost— 
 tell her 
 
 Land. Shall I tell her dinner is ready ? -" 
 
 Cas. Do so-T-and in the meanwhile I will look after my 
 portmanteau. ' [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene changes to a subterrdneotis vault in the Abbey of Qued' 
 linburgh, with coffins., ^scutcheons. Death's heads and cross- 
 bones. — Toads, and other loathsome reptiles are seen travers- 
 ing the obscurer parts of the Stage. — RpGERO appears in 
 chains, in a suit of rusty armour, with his beard grown, 
 and a cap of a grotesque form uion his head.^Beside him a 
 crock, or pitcher, supposed to contain his daily allowance op 
 sustenance. — A long silence, during which the wind is heard 
 to whistle through the caverns. — RoGERO rises, and comes 
 slowly forward, with his arms folded. 
 
 Rog. Eleven years ! it is now eleven years since I was first 
 immured in this living sepulchre — the cruelty of a minister — the 
 perfidy of a monk — yes, Matilda ! for thy sake^alive amidst the 
 ■ dead — thained^coffined — confined — cut off from the converse of 
 my fellow-men. Soft ! what have we herfe ? [stumbles over a 
 bundle of sticks']. This cavern is so dark, that I can scarcely 
 distinguish the objects under ^ly feet. Oh ! the register of my 
 captivity. Let me see, how stands the account ? [takes up the 
 sticks and turns them over with a melancholy air; then stands '- 
 silent for a few moments, as if absorbed in calculation]. Eleven , 
 years and fifteen days ! Hah ! the twenty-eighth of August ! 
 How does the recollection of it vibrate on my heart ! It was on 
 this day tha:t I took my last leave of my Matilda. It was a 
 summer evening — her melting hand seemed to dissolve in mine, 
 as I press'd it to my bosom. Some demon whispered me that I 
 should never see her more. I stood gazing on the hated vehicle ' 
 which was conveying her away for ever. The tears were petrified 
 under my eyelids. My heart was crystallized, with agony. 
 Anon, I looked along the road. The diligence seemed to diminish ' 
 every instant. I felt ray heart beat against its prison, as if 
 anxious to leap out and overtake it. My soul whirled round as ; 
 I watched the rotation of the hinder wheels. A long trail of 
 glory followed after her, and niingled i with the dust — it was the 
 emanation of Divinity, luminous with love and beauty, like the ' 
 splendour of the setting sun ; but it told me that the sun of my 
 joys was sunk for ever. Yes, here in the depths of an eternal , 
 dungeon — in the nursing cradle of hell — the suburbs of perdition 
 
SCENE I.] THE ROVERS. 203 
 
 — in a nest of demons, where despair, in vain, sits brooding over 
 the putrid eggs of hope ; where agony woos the embrace of 
 death \ where patience, beside the bottomless pool of despon- 
 dency, sits angling for impossibilities. Yet even here, to behold 
 her, to embrace her — yes, Matilda, whether in this dark abode, 
 amidst toads and spiders, or in a royal palace, amidst the more 
 loathsome reptiles of a Court, would b6 indifferent to me. 
 Angels would shower do\vn their hymns of gratulation upon our 
 heads— while fiends would envy the eternity of suffering love 
 .... Soft, what air wa^ that ? it seemed a sound of more than 
 'human warblings. Again [listens attentively for; some imnutes\^ 
 — only the wind. It is well, however ; it reminds me of thaf 
 melancholy air which has so often solaced the hours of my 
 captivity. Let me see whether the damps of this dungeon have 
 not yet injured my guitar. \Takes his guitar, tunes it, and 
 begins the following air, with a full accompaniment of violins 
 from the orchestra.^ 
 
 [Air, Lanterna Magica^ 
 Song. 
 
 BY KOGEKO. 
 
 Whene'er with haggard eyes I view 
 This dungeon that I'm rotting in, 
 I think of those companions true 
 Who studied with me at the U — 
 
 — niversity of Gottingen, — 
 , — niversity of Gottingen. 
 [ Weeps, and fulls out d blue kerchief, with which he 
 wipes his eyes ; gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds — ' 
 
 II. 
 
 Sweet kerchief, check'd with heavenly blue, 
 
 Which once my love sat knotting in ! — 
 Alas ! Matilda then was true 1 — 
 At least I thought so at the U — 
 
 — niversity of Gottingen— 
 — niversity of Gottingen. 
 
 \At the repetition of this line, RoGERO 
 clanks his chains in cadence, 
 
 III. 
 
 Barbs ! barbs ! alas ! how swift you flew. 
 
 Her neat post-waggon trotting in ! 
 Ye bore Matilda from niy view ; 
 Forlorn I languish'd at the U — 
 
 — niversity of Gottingen — 
 — niversity of Gottingen. 
 
204 
 
 THE ROVERS. [act I. 
 
 IV. 
 This faded form ! this pallid hue ! 
 
 This blood my veins is dotting in, 
 My years are many-^they were few 
 When first I entered at the U — 
 
 — niversity of Gottingon — 
 — niversity of Gottingen. 
 
 V. 
 
 There first for thee my passion grew, 
 Sweet ! sweet Matilda Pottingen ! 
 Thou wast the daughter of my tu — 
 — tor, Law Professor at the U — 
 
 — niversity of Gottingen — 
 — niversity of Gottingen, 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sun, moon, and thou, vain world, adieu. 
 That kings and priests are plotting in : 
 Here doom'd to starve on water gru — 
 — el, never shall I see the U — 
 
 — niversity of Gottingen — 
 — niversity of Gottingen. 
 
 [During the last stanza, ROGERO dashes his head repeatedly 
 against the walls of his prison ; and, finally, so hard as 
 to produce a visible contusion. He then tl^rows himself 
 on the floor in an agony. The curtain drops — the music 
 still continuing to play till it is wholly fallen. 
 
 We have received, in the course of the last week, several long, 
 and to say the truth, dull letters, from unknown hands, reflecting, 
 in very severe terms, on Mr. Higgins, for having, as it is 
 affirmed, attempted to pass upon the world, as a faithful sample 
 of the productions of the German Theatre, a performance no 
 way resembling any of those pie res, which have of late excjted, 
 and which bid fair to engross the admiration of the British 
 public. 
 
 As we cannot but consider ourselves as the guardians of Mr. 
 Higgins's literary reputation, in respect to every work of his 
 which is conveyed to the world through the medium of our' 
 paper (though, what we think of the danger of his principles, we 
 have already sufficiently explained for ourselves, and have, we 
 trust, succeeded in putting our readers upon their guard against 
 them) — we hold ourselves bound not only to justify the fidelity 
 of the imitation, but (contrary to our original intention) to give a 
 further specimen of it in our present number, in order to bring 
 the question more fairly to issue between our author and his 
 calumniators. 
 
 In the first place, we are to observe that Mr. Higgins professes 
 
SCENE I.] THE ROVERS. 205 
 
 to have taken his notion of German plays- -wholly from the 
 translations which have appeared in bur language. If they are 
 totally dissimilar from the originals, Mr. H. may undoubtedly 
 have been led into error ; but the fault is in the translators, not 
 in him. That he does not differ widely from the models which 
 he proposed to himself, we have it in out power to prove satis- 
 factorily ; and might have done so in our last number, by sub- 
 joining to each particular passage of his play, the scene in some 
 one or other of the Gennan plays, which he had in view when he 
 wrote it. These parallel passages were faithfully pointed put to 
 us by Mr. H. with that candour which marks his character ; and 
 if they were suppressed by us (as in truth they were), on our 
 heads be the blame, whatever it may be. Little, indeed, did we 
 think of the imputation which the omission would bring upon 
 Mr. H., as, in fact, our principal reason foi it was the apprehen-, 
 sion that, from the extreme closeness of the imitation in most 
 instances, he would lose in praise for invention more than he 
 would gain in credit for fidelity. 
 
 The meeting between Matilda and Cecilia, for example, in the 
 first act- of the " Rovers," and their sudden intimacy, has been 
 censured as unnatural. Be it so. \t '\%. Xskex^. almost word for 
 word from " Stella," a German (or professedly a German) piece 
 now much in vogue ; from which also the catastrophe of Mr. 
 Higgins's play is in part borrowed, so far as relates ,to the 
 agreement to which the ladies come, as the reader will see by- 
 and-by, to share Casimere between them. 
 
 The dinner scene is copied partly from the published trans- 
 lation of the " Stranger," and partly from the first scene of 
 " Stella." The song of Rogero, with which the first act con- 
 cludes, is admitted on all hands to be in the very first taste ; 
 and if no German original is to be found for it, so much the 
 worse for the credit of German literature. 
 
 An objection has been made by one anonymous letter-writer, 
 to the names of Puddingfield and Beefington, as little likely to 
 have been assigned to English characters by any author of taste 
 or discernment. . In answer to. this objection, we have, in the 
 first place, to admit that a small, and we hope not an unwar- 
 rantable alteration has been made by us since the MS. has been 
 in our hands. These names stood originally Puddincranfz and 
 Beefinstern, which sounded to our ears as being liable, especially 
 'the latter, to a ridiculous inflection— a difficulty that could onlj' 
 be removed by furnishing them with English terminations. 
 With regard to the more substantial syllables of the names, our 
 author proceeded in all probability on the authority of Goldoni, 
 whoi though not a German, is an Italian writer of considerable 
 reputation ; and who, having heard that the English were dis- 
 tinguished for their love of liberty and beef, has judiciously 
 compounded the two words Rwmymede and beef, and thereby 
 
2o6 THE ROVERS. [act I. 
 
 produced an English nobleman, whom he styles Lord Rumiy- 
 beef. 
 
 To dwell no longer on particular passages — the best way per- 
 haps of explaining the whole scope and view of Mr. H.'s imita- 
 tion, will be to transcribe the short sketch of the plot, which 
 that gentleman transmitted to us, together with his drama ; aiid 
 which it is perhaps' the more necessary to give at length, as the 
 limits of our paper not allowing of the publication bf the whole 
 piece, some general kiiowledge of its maip design may be 
 acceptable to our readers, in order to enable them to judge of 
 the several extracts which we lay before them. 
 
 PLOT. 
 
 t 
 
 Rogero, son of the late Minister of the Count of Saxe Wei- 
 mar, having, while he was at college, fallen desperately in love 
 with Matilda Pottingen, daughter of his tutor. Doctor Engel- 
 bertus Pottingen, Professor of Civil Law ; and Matilda evidently 
 returning his passion, the doetor, to prevent ill consequences, 
 sends his daughter on a visit to her aunt in Wetteravia, where 
 she becomes acquainted with Casimei'e, a Polish officer, who 
 happens to be quartered near her aunt's, and has several chil- 
 dren by him. 
 
 Roderic, Count of Saxe Weimar, a prince of tyrannical, and 
 licentious disposition, has for his Prime Minister and favourite, 
 Caspar, a crafty villain, who had risen to his post by first ruin^ 
 ing, and then putting to death, Rogero's father. Caspar, appre- 
 hensive of the power and popularity which the young Rogero 
 may enjoy at his return to Court, seizes the occasion of his 
 intrigue with Matilda (of v\fhich he is apprised officially by 
 Doctor Pottingen) to procure from his master an order for the 
 recall of Rogero from college, and for committing him to the 
 care of the prior of the Abbey of Quedlinburgh, a priest, rapa-,' 
 cious, savage, and sensual, and devoted to Caspar's interests — 
 sending at the same time private orders to the prior to confine 
 him in a dungeon. ' 
 
 Here Rogero languishes many years. His daily sustenance 
 is administered to him through a grated opening at the top of a ' 
 cayerrt, by the landlady of the Colden Eagle at Weimar, with 
 whom Caspar contracts, in the Prince's name, for his support;, 
 intending, and more than once endeavouring, to corrupt the 
 waiter to mingle poison with the food, in order that he may get 
 rid of Rogero for ever. 
 
 In the meantime Casimere, having been called away from the 
 neighbourhood of Matilda's residence to other quarters, becomes . ' 
 enamoured of, and marries Cecilia, by whom he has a family ; 
 and whom he likewise deserts after a few years' cohabitation, on 
 pretence of business which calls him to Kamtschatka. 
 
scBne I.] THE. ROVERS, - 207 
 
 Doctor Pottingen, now grown old and. infirm, and feeling the 
 want of his daughter's society, sends young Pottingen in search 
 of hei,.with strict injunctions not to return without her ; and to 
 bring with her either her present lover Casimere, or, should that 
 not be possible, Rogero himself, if he can find him ; the doctor 
 having set his heart upon seeing his children comfortably settled 
 before his death. Matilda, about the same period, quits her 
 aunt's in, search of Casimere ; and Cecilia having been adver- 
 tised (by an anonymous letter) of 'the falsehood of his_ Kamt' 
 sChatka journey, sets, out in the post-waggon on a similar 
 pursuit. 
 
 It is at this point of time the play opens — with the accidental 
 meeting of Cecilia and Matilda at the inn at Weimar. Casi- 
 mere arrives there soon after, and falls in first with Matilda, and 
 then with Cecilia. Successive dclaircissements take place, and 
 , an arrangement is finally made, by which the two ladies are to 
 live jointly with Casimere. ' 
 
 Young Pottingen, wearied with a few weeks' search, during 
 which he has not been able to find either of the objects of it, 
 resolves to stop at Weimar, and wait events theire. It so 
 happens; that he takes up his lodging in the same house with 
 Puddihcrantz and Beefinstern, two English noblemen, whpm the 
 tyranay of King John has obliged to fly from their country ; and 
 , "who, after wandering about the Continent for some time, have 
 fixed their residence at Weimar. 
 
 The news of the signatui'e of Magna Charta arriving, deter- 
 mines Puddincrantz and Beefinstern to return to England. 
 Young Pottingen opens his case to them, and entreats them to 
 stay to assist him in the object of his search. This they refuse ; 
 but coming to the inn where they are to set off for Hamburgh, 
 they meet Casimere, from whom they have both received many 
 civilities in Poland. 
 
 Casimere, by this time tired of his "Double Arrangement," 
 1 and having learned from the waiter that Rogero is confined in 
 the vaults of the neighbouring Abbey for love, resolves to 
 attempt his rescue, and to niake over Matilda to him as the price 
 of his deliverance.' He communicates his scheme to Pudding- 
 field and Beefington, who agree to assist him ; as also ddeg 
 /young Pottingen. The waiter of the inn proving to be a Knight 
 Templar m disguise, is appointed leader of the expedition. A 
 band of troubadours, who happen to be returning from the 
 Crusades, and a company of Austrian and Prussian Grenadiers 
 returning from the Seven Years' War, are engaged as troops. 
 
 vThe attack on the Abbey is made with success. The Count 
 of Weimar and Caspar, who are feasting with the prior, are 
 seized and beheaded in the refectory. The prior is thrown into 
 the dungeon, from which Rogero is rescijed. Matilda and 
 Cecilia rush in. The former recognizes Rogei-o, and agrees to 
 
2o8 THE ROVERS. , [actii. 
 
 live with' him. The children are produced on all sides ; and / 
 young Pottingen is commissioned to write to his father, the 
 doctor, to detail the joyful events which have, taken place, and 
 to invite him to Weimar, to partake of the general fehcity. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene. — a Room in an ordinary Lodging-house at Weimar. — 
 PtTDDlNGFlELD and Beefington discovered, sitting at a 
 small deal table, and playing at All-fours. — Young Pot- 
 tingen, at another table in the corner of the room, with, a 
 pipe in his mouth, and a Saxo7i mug of a singular shape 
 beside him, which he repeatedly applies to his Ups, turning 
 back his head, and casting his eyes towards the firmame?it. 
 At the last trial he holds the mug for some moments in a 
 directly inverted position j then replaces it on the table, idiih 
 an air of dejection, and gradually sinks into a profound 
 slumber. The pipe falls from his hand, and is broken. ^ 
 
 Beef. I beg. 
 
 Piidd. {deals three cards to Beefington]. Are you satisfied ? 
 
 Beef. Enough. What have you ? 
 
 Pudd. High — low— and the gaine. i 
 
 Beef. Ah! 'tis my deal \_deals — turns up a knave}, j One 
 for his heels ! ' \Triumpmntly. 
 
 Pudd. Is king highest ? | 
 
 Beef. No [sterytly}. The game is mine. The knave gives it me. 
 
 Pudd. Are knaves so prosperous ? 
 Ay, marry are they in this world. They have the game in their 
 hands. Your kings are but noddies\ to them. 
 
 Pudd. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — still the same proud spirit, Beefington, 
 which procured thee thine exile from England. . 
 
 Beef. England ! my native land l^when shall I revisit thee ? 
 [During this time Puddingfield deals, and begins to 
 arrange his hand. 
 
 Beef. \continues\' Phoo— hang all-fours ; what are they to a 
 mind ill at ease.' Can they cure the heart-ache? Can they 
 sooth banishment ">. Can they lighten ignominy ? Can all-fours 
 do this ? Oh ! my Puddingfield, thy limber and ligl^tsome spirit 
 
 • This is an excellent joke in German ; the point and spirit of which is 
 but ill-rendered in a translation. A Noddy, the reader will observe, has 
 two significations — the one a "knave at all-fours;" the other a "fool or 
 booby. " See the translation by Mr. Render of ' ' Count Benyowsky ; or, 
 the Conspiracy of Kamtschatka," a German tragi-comircomi-tragedy ; 
 where the play opens with a scene of a game at chess (froni which 'the whole 
 of this scene is copied), and a joke of the same point and merriment about 
 pawns — i.e., boors being a match for king(s. 
 
s^NEii.] THE ROVERS. 209 
 
 boutids up against affliction — with the elasticity of a well-bent ' 
 bow'ij but mine — O ! mine — 
 
 \ [Falls into an agony, and sinks back in his chair. Young 
 POTTINGEN awakened by the noise, rises, and advances 
 •with a grave demeanour towards Beefington and 
 PUDDINGFIELD. The former begins to recover. 
 Y. Pot. What is the matter, comrades ?* — you seem agitated. 
 Pave you lost or won ? 
 Beef. Lost. I have lost my countrj*. 
 Y. Pot. And I my sister. I came hither in search of her. 
 Beef. O England ! 
 Y. Pot. O Matilda ! 
 
 Beef. Exiled by the tyranny of an usurper, I seek the means 
 of revenge; and of restoration to my country. 
 
 K Pot. Oppressed by the tyranny of an abbot, persecuted by 
 the- jealousy of a count, the betrothed husband of my sister 
 languishes in a loathsome captivity. Her lover is fled no one 
 knows whither — and I, her brother, am torn from my paternal' 
 roof, and from my studies in chirurgery, to seek him and her, I 
 know not where — to rescue Rogero, I know not how. Comrades, 
 your counsel — my search fruitless — my money gone — my bag- 
 gage stolen ! What am I to do .'' In yonder abbey — in these 
 dark, dank vaults, there, my friends— there hes Rogero — there 
 Matilda's heart—— 
 
 Scene II. 
 Enter Waiter. 
 
 Waiter. Sir, here is a person who desires to speak with you. 
 
 Beef, [goes to the door, and returns with a tetter, which he 
 opens — on perusing it his countenance becomes illuminated, and 
 expands prodigiously\ Hah, my friend, what joy ! 
 
 [Turning to Puddingfield. 
 
 Pudd. What .-' tell me — let your Puddingfield partake it. 
 
 Beif. See here — [Produces a printed paper. 
 
 Pudd. What ? [ With impatience. 
 
 Beef, [in a significant tone"]. A newspaper ! 
 
 Pudd. Hah, what sayst thou ! A newspaper ! 
 
 Beef Yes, Puddingfield, and see here [shows it partially'], 
 frorn England. 
 
 Pudd. [with extreme earnestness\. Its name ! 
 
 Beef. The " Daily Advertiser "— 
 
 Pudd. Oh, ecstasy ! 
 
 Beef, [with a dignified severity']. Puddingfield, calm yourself — 
 repress those transports — remember that you are a man. 
 
 * This word in the original is strictly "fellow-lodgers" — "co-occupants of 
 the same room, in a house let out at a small rent by the week." There is 
 no single word in English which expresses so complicated a relation , except, 
 perhaps, the cant term of " chum," formerly in use at our universities. 
 
210 THE Rt) VERS. [act ii.^ 
 
 Pudd. {after a pause with suppressed entotioti]. Well, I will 
 be — I am calm — yet tell me, Beefington, does it contain any news ? 
 Beef. Glorious neiys, my dear Puddingfield— the Barons are 
 victorious — King John has been defeated — Magna Charta, that 
 venerable, immemorial inheritance of Britons, was signed last 
 Friday was three weeks, the third of July Old Style. 
 
 Pudd. I can scarce- believe my ears — but let me Satisfy my 
 eyes — show me the paragraph. 
 Beef. Here it is, just above the advertisements. ' ' 
 
 Pudd. [reads']. " The great demand for Packwood's razor 
 straps " — — 
 
 Beef. 'Pshaw! what, ever blundering — youdrive me from my 
 patience — see here, at the head of the column. 
 
 Pudd. [reads']. " A hireling print, devoted to the Court, 
 Has dared to question our '.eracity 
 ' Respecting the events of yesterday ; 
 But by to-day's accounts, our information 
 Appears to have been perfectly correct. 
 The charter of our liberties received 
 The royal signature at five o'clock. 
 When messengers were instantly dispatch'd 
 To Cardinal Pandulfo ; and their majesties, >? 
 
 After partaking of a cold collation, 
 Return'd to Windsor." — I am satisfied. 
 Beef. Yet here . again — there are some further particulars ■ 
 [turns to another part of the paper], " Extract of a letter from 
 Egham — My dear friend, we are all here in high spirits— the 
 interesting event which took place this morning at Runnymede, 
 
 in the neighbourhood of this town " 
 
 Pudd. Hah! Runnymede, enough— no more— my doubts are ', 
 vanished — then are we free indeed ! 
 
 Beef. I have, besides, a letter in my pocket from our friend, 
 the immortal Bacon,' who has been appointed Chancellor. Opr 
 outlawry is reversed ! What sa:ys my friend — shall we return by' 
 the next paclcet ? 
 Pudd. Instantly, instantly ! 
 Both. Liberty ! Adelaide !— Revenge ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 'i^oimgVoT'yimQmi following, and ivaving ' 
 his hat, but obviously without much-consciousness 
 of the meaning of what has passed. 
 Scene changes to the outside afthe Abbey. A summer's evenins^ 
 —moonlight. Companies of Austi-ian and Prussian Gren- 
 adiers march across the stage, confusedly, as if returning 
 from the Seven Years' War. Shouts, and martial music. 
 The Abbey gates are opened. The- i?ionks are seen passim^ ' 
 in procession, with the Prior at thei)- head. . The choir is 
 heard chanting vespers. Aftet whicji a pause. Then a bell 
 is heard, as -if ringing for supper. Soon after, a noise of } 
 singing and jollity: . ■ 
 
SCiiNEii.] THM ROVEkS. 211 
 
 pnterfrom the Abbey, pushed out of the gates by the Porter, a 
 Troubadour, with a hundle under his cloak, and a Lady 
 ■under his arm. Troubadour seems much in liquor, but 
 caresses the female minstrel.' 
 
 Fem. Min. Trust me, Gieronymo, thou seemest melancholy. 
 What hast thou got under thy cloak ? 
 
 Trou. 'Vshaw, women will be inquiring. Melancholy ! not I. 
 I will sing thee a song, and the subject of it shall be thy ques- 
 tion — "What have I got. under my cloak?" It is a riddle, 
 Margaret — I learnt it of an almanac-maker at Gotha — if thou 
 guessest it after the first stanza, thou shalt have never a drop for 
 thy pains. Hear me — and, d'ye mark! twirl thy thingumbob 
 whil^e I sing. 
 
 Fem. Min. 'Tis a pretty tune, and hums dolefully. 
 
 \P lays on. the balalaika.* Troubadour sings. 
 
 I bear a secret comfort here, 
 [putting his hand on the bundle, but without showing it. 
 
 A joy I'll ne'er impart ; 
 It is not wine, it is not beer, 
 
 But it consoles my heart. 
 
 Fem. Min. \interrupting hir{\. I'll be hang'd if you don't mean 
 the bottle of cherry-brandy that you stole out of the vaults in the 
 Abbey cellar. 
 
 Trou. I mean ! — Peace, wench, thou disturbest the current of 
 my feelings. 
 
 \Fem. Min. attempts to lay hold of the bottle. Trou- 
 badour pushes her aside, and cotttinues singing 
 •without interruption. 
 
 This cherry-bounce, this lov'd noyau, 
 
 My drink for ever be ; 
 But, sweet my love,, thy wish forego, 
 
 I'll give no drop to thee ! 
 
 {l)<)th together.) 
 ^'"'- {?hat} cherry-bounce {«4=J lov'd noyau. 
 
 F.M. 
 Trou. 
 F. M. 
 Ttmi. 
 F.M. 
 
 1 TK I drink for ever be ; 
 
 . > „ ^ » , ( thy wish forego ! 
 
 : I But, sweet my love, | o^'e drop bestow. 
 
 IT: {Nor}'^-P^'^"f-{rhle! 
 
 {^Exeunt struggling for the bottle, but without anger 
 ' or animosity, the Fem. Min. appearing, by degrees, 
 to obtain a superiority in tlie contest. 
 
 * Thfe balalaika is a Russian instrument, resembling the guitar.— See the 
 play of "Count Benyowsky," rendered into English. , 
 
212 THE ROVERS. [act IV. 
 
 Act the Third contains the edaifcissements and final arrange- 
 ment between Casimere, Matilda, and Cecih'a : which so 
 nearly resemble the concluding act of " Stella," that we forbear 
 to lay it before our readers. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene — The Inn door — Diligence drawritip. CASIMERE appears 
 superintending the package of his Jiortt^anteaus, and giving 
 directions to the Porters. 
 
 Enter Beefington and Puddingfield. 
 
 Pudd. Well, Coachey, have you got two inside places ? 
 
 Coach. Yes, your honour. 
 
 Piidd. \seems to be struck with Casimere's appearance. He 
 surveys him earnestly, without paying any attention to the 
 coachman, then, doubtingly pronounces'] Casimere ! 
 
 Cas. [turning round rapidly, recognises Puddingfield, and 
 embraces himX My Puddingfield ! 
 
 Pudd. My Casimere ! 
 
 Cas. What, Beefington too ! [«^zjf07/^rz>2g"/izV«]. Then is my joy 
 complete. 
 
 Beef. Our fellow-traveller, as it seems. 
 
 Cas. Yes, Beefington — but wherefore to Hamburgh ? 
 
 Beef. Oh, Casimere* — to fly — to fly — to return— England^ — 
 our country— Magna Charta — it is liberated — a new era — House 
 of Commons — Crown and Anchor — Opposition 
 
 Cas. What a contrast ! you are flying to liberty and your 
 home — I, driven from my home by tyranny — am exposed to 
 domestic slavery in a foreign country. 
 
 B^ef How domestic slavery ? 
 
 Cas. Too true — two wives \slowly, and with a dejected air — 
 then after apause"] — you knew my Cecilia ? 
 
 Pudd. Y'es, five years ago. 
 
 Cas. Soon after that period 1 went upon a visit to a lady in 
 Wetteravia — my Matilda was under her, protection — alighting at 
 a peasant's cabin, I saw her on a charitable visit, spreading 
 bread-and-butter for the children, in a hght-blue riding habit." 
 The simplicity of her appearance — the fineness of the weather- 
 all conspired to interest me — my heart moved to hers^as if by 
 
 • See, "Count Benyowsky ; or, the Conspiracy of Kamschatka," where 
 Crustiew, an old gentleman of much sagacity, talis the following nonsense : 
 
 Crustiew \with youthful energy and dii air of secrecy and confidence]. 
 " To fly, to fly, to the Isles of Marian — the island of Tinian — a terrestrial 
 paradise. Free — free — a mild climate — a new created sun — wholesome 
 fruits — harmlpss inhabitants — and Liberty — tranquillity." 
 
SCENE I.] THE ROVERS. 213 
 
 a magnetic sympathy — we wept, embraced, and went home 
 ■ together— she became the mother of my Pantalowsky. But five 
 years of enjoyment have not stifled the reproaches of my con- 
 science — her Rogero is languishing in captivity — if I could 
 restorfe her to hun ! 
 
 Beef. Let us rescue him. 
 
 Cos. Will without power * is like children playing at soldiers. 
 
 Beef. Courage without power + is like a consumptive running 
 footman. 
 
 Cas. Courage without power is a contradiction.J Ten brave 
 men might set all Quedlinburgh at defiance. 
 
 Beef. Ten brave men — ^but where are they to be found ? 
 
 Cas. I will tell you — marked you the waiter ? 
 
 Beef. The waiter? \poubtingly. 
 
 Cas. \in a confidential tone\. No waiter, but a Knight Templar. 
 Returning from the crusade, he found his Order dissolved, and 
 his person proscribed. He dissembled his rank, and embraced 
 the profession of a waiter. I have made sure of him already. 
 There are, besides, an Austrian and a Prussian grenadier. I 
 have made them abjure their national enmity, and they have 
 sworn to fight henceforth in the cause of freedom. These, with 
 Young Pottingen, the waiter, and ourselves, make seven— the trou- 
 badour, with his two attendant minstrels, will complete the teji. 
 
 Beef. Now then for the execution. . {With enthusiasm. 
 
 Ptidd. Yes, my boys — for the execution. 
 
 [Clapping them o?i the back. 
 
 Waiter. But hist ! we are observed. ' 
 
 Trou. Let us by a song conceal our purposes. 
 
 RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED.? 
 
 Cas. Hist ! hist ! nor let the airs that blow 
 
 From Night's cold lungs, our purpose know ! 
 
 Pudd. Let Silence, mother of the dumb, 
 
 Bief. Press on each lip her palsied thumb ! 
 
 Wait. Let privacy, allied to sin. 
 
 That loves to haunt the tranquil inn — 
 
 Grcn. \ And Conscience starf, when she shall view, 
 
 Trou. J The mighty deed we mean to do ! 
 
 GENERAL CHORUS— Cow sfirito. 
 
 Then friendship swear, ye faithful bands. 
 Swear to save a shackled hero ! 
 
 * See "Count Benyowsky," as before. t See " Count Benyowsky.'' 
 
 J, See "Count Benyowsky" again ; from which play this and the preced-' 
 
 ing references are talten word for word. We acquit the Germans of such 
 
 reprobate silly stuff. It must be the translator's. 
 
 § We believe this song to be copied, with a small variation in metre and 
 
 meaning, from a Song in "Count Benyowsky; or, the Conspiracy of 
 
 Kamtschatka," — where the conspirators join in a t^aoms, for fear of being 
 
 overheard. 
 
£14 THE ROVERS. [act IV, 
 
 See where yon Abbey frowning stands ! 
 
 Rescue, rescue, brave Rogero ! 
 Cas. Thrall'd in a Monltish tyrant's fetters, 
 
 Shall great Rogero hopeless lie? 
 Y. Pot. ' In my pocket I have letters, 
 
 Saying, " help me, or 1 die ! " 
 
 Allegro Allegretto. 
 
 Cas. Beef. Pudpi. Gren. Trou. \ Let us fly, let us fly, 
 Waiter, cfnd Pot. with enthttsiaimS Let us help, ere he die! 
 
 [Exeunt omnes, waving their hats. 
 
 Scene. — The Abbey gate, with ditches, drawbridges, and spikes. 
 Time — about an hour before sunrise. The Conspirators 
 . appear as if 'in ambuscade, whispering, and consulting 
 together, in expectation of the sigtial for attack. The 
 Waiter is habited as a Knight Templar, in the dress of his 
 Order, with the cross on his breast., and the scallop on his' 
 shoulder J PuDdingfield and Beefington armed with 
 blunderbusses and pocket pistols j the Grenadiers in their 
 proper uniforms. The Troubadour, with his attendant 
 Minstrels, bring up the rear — martial music — the con- 
 , spirators come forward, and present themselves before the 
 gate of the Abbey. — Alarum— ^firing of pistols— the Convert 
 appear in arms upon the walls — the drawbridge is let down 
 — a body of choristers and la^ -brothers attempt a sally, but 
 are beaten back, and the verger killed. The besieged attempt 
 to raise the drawbridge — Puddingfield rt«rf Beefington 
 pi-ess forward with alacrity, throw themselves upon the 
 drawbridge, and by the exertion of their weight, preserve it 
 in a state of depression — the other besiegers join them^ and 
 attempt to force the entrance, but without effect. Pudding- 
 field makes the signal for the battering ram. Enter 
 QuiNTUs CuRTius and Marcus Curius Dentatus, iti 
 their proper military habits, preceded by the Roman Eagle 
 — the rest of their le^on are employed in bringing forward ' 
 a battering ram,, which plays for a few minutes to slow 
 time, till the entrance is forced. After a short resistance; 
 the besiegers rush in with shouts of victory. \ 
 
 Scene changes to the interior of the Abbey. The inhabitants of 
 the Convent are seen flying in all directions. 
 
 The Count of Weimar and Prior, who had been feasting in 
 the refectory, are brought in manacled. The Count appears 
 transported with rage, and gnaws his chains. The Prior 
 remains insensible, as if stiipefied with grief . Beefington 
 takes the keys of the dungeon, which are hanging at the 
 Prior's girdle, ard makes a sign for them both to be led 
 away into confinement.— Exeunt Prior and Count pro- 
 perly guarded. The rest of the conspirators disperse in, 
 search of the dungeon where Rogero is confined. 
 
BOMBASTES FURIOSO. 
 
 FIRST PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL HAYMARKET, 
 AUGUST 7, 1810. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON^E. 
 
 AkxAXOiiiNOUS, King of Utopia. 
 FUSBOS, Minister of State. 
 General Bombastes. 
 Attendants or Courtiers. 
 
 Army— a. long Drummer, a short 
 Fifer, ind two (sometimes three) 
 Soldiers of different dimensions. 
 
 DlSTAFFINA. 
 
 Scene I. — Interior of the Palace. 
 
 The King in his chair of state. — A table set out with punch- 
 bowl, glasses, pipes, &^c. — Attendants on each side. 
 
 Trio.—" TeMi." 
 
 ist Atten. What will your majesty please to wear ? 
 
 Or blue, green, red, black, white, or brown ? 
 znd. Atten. D'ye chodse to look at the bill of fare ? [Showing long till. 
 KiHg. Get out of my sight, ,or I'll knock you down. 
 
 ^ttd Atten. Here is soup, fish, or goose, or duck, or fowl, or pigeons, 
 
 pig, or hare ! 
 \st Atten. Or blue, or gresr, or red, or black, or white, or brown, 
 
 What will your Majesty, &c. 
 King. Get out of my sight, &c. 
 
 \Exeu7it Attendants, 
 
 Enter Fusbos, and kneels to the King. 
 
 Fusbos. Hail, Artaxominous ! yclep'd the Great ! 
 I come, an humble pillar of thy state, 
 Pregnant with news — ^but ere that news I tell, 
 First let me hope your Majesty is well. 
 
 King. Rise, learned Fusbos ! rise, my friend, and know 
 We are but middling — that is, jo jo .■' 
 
 Fusbos. Only so so ! Oh, monstrous, doleful thing ! 
 Is it the mulligrubs affects the king ? 
 
2i6 , ' BOMBASTES FURIOSO. 
 
 Or, dropping poisons in the cup of joy, 
 Do the blue devils your repose annoy ? 
 . Kin^. Nor mulligrubs nor devils blue are here, 
 But yet we feel ourselves a little queer. 
 
 'Fusbos. Yes, I perceive it in that vacant eye, 
 The vest unbutton'd, and the wig awry ; 
 So sickly cats neglect their fur-attire, 
 And sit and mope beside the kitchen fire. 
 
 King. Last night, when undisturb'd by state affairs, 
 Moist'ning our clay, and puffing off our cares. 
 Oft the replenished goblet did we drain, 
 And drank and smok'd, and smok'd and drank again ! 
 Such was the case, our very actions such, 
 Until at length we got a drop too much. 
 
 Fusbos. So when some donkey on the Blackheath Road, 
 Falls, overpower'd, beneath his sandy load ; 
 The driver's curse unheeded swells the air. 
 Since none can carry more than they can bear. 
 
 King. The sapient Doctor Muggins came in haste, 
 Who suits his physic to his patient's taste ; 
 He, knowing well on what our heart is set. 
 Hath just prescrib'd, " To take a morning whet ; '' 
 The very sight each sick'ning pain subdues. 
 Then sit, my Fusbos, sit and tell thy news. 
 
 Fusbos \_sits'\. Gen'ral Bombastes, whose resistless force 
 Alone exceeds by far a brewer's horse. 
 Returns victorious, bringing mines of wealth ! 
 
 King. Does he, by jingo ? tiaen we'll drink his health ! 
 
 \Dru7n and Fife. 
 
 Fusbos. But hark ! with loud acclaim, the fife and drum 
 Announce your army near ; behold, they come ! 
 
 Enter Bombastes, attended by one Drummer, one Fifer, 
 and two Soldiers, all very materially differing in 
 size. — They inarch round the stage and back. 
 
 Bombas. Meet me this ev'ning at the Barley Mow ; 
 I'll bring your pay — you see I'm busy now • 
 Begone, brave army, and don't kick up a row. [Exetmt SOLDIERS. 
 [To the King]. Thrash'd are your foes — this watch and silken 
 
 string. 
 Worn by their chief, I as a trophy bring ; 
 I knock'd him down, then snatch'd it from his fob ; 
 " Watch, watch," he cried, when 1 had done the job. 
 " My watch is gone," says he — says I, ''Just so ; 
 Stop where you are — watches were made to go." 
 King. For which we make you Duke of Strombelo. 
 
 [Bombastes kneels ; the King dubs him with a pipe, 
 aud then presents the bowl. 
 
BOMBASTES FURIOSO. 217 
 
 From our own bowl here drink, my soldier true, 
 And if you'd like to take a whiff or two, 
 He whose brave arm hafh made our foes to crouch, 
 Shall have a pipe from this our royal pouch. 
 
 Bombas. \rises\. Honours so great have all my toils repaid ! 
 My liege, and Fusbos, here's " Success to trade." 
 
 Fusbos. Well said, Bombastes ! Since thy mighty blows, 
 Have given a quietus to our foes. 
 Now shall our farmers gather in their crops. 
 And busy tradesmen mind their crowded shop" 
 The deadly havoc of war's hatchet cease ; 
 Now shall we smoke the calumet of peace, 
 
 King. I shall smoke short-cut, you smoke what you please. 
 
 -Bombas. Whate'er your Majesty shall deign to name. 
 Short cut or long to me is all the same. 
 
 "and > '^^ short, so long, as we your favours claim, 
 Fusbos 1 Short cut or long, to us is all the same. 
 
 King. Thanks, gen'rous friends ! now list whilst I impart 
 How firm you're lock'd and bolted in my heart ; 
 So long, as this here pouch a pipe contains, 
 Or a full glass in that there bowl remains. 
 To you an equal portion shall belong ; 
 This do I swear, and now — let's have a song. 
 
 Fusbos. My liege shall be obeyed. 
 
 [Advances and, attempts to sing. 
 
 Bombas. Fusbos, give place. 
 
 You know you haven't got a singing face ; 
 Here nature, smiling, gave the winning grace. 
 
 Song. — "Bope told aflatfring Tale." 
 
 Hope told a flaUering tale, 
 
 Much longer than my arm, 
 That love and pots of ale 
 
 In peace would keep me warm : 
 The flatt'rer is not gone. 
 She visits nuinber one : 
 In love I'm monstrous deep. 
 Love ! odsbobs, destroys my sleep, 
 Hope told a flattering tale, 
 
 Lest love should soon grow cool ; 
 A tub thrown to a whale. 
 
 To make the fish a fool : 
 Should Distaffina frown, 
 
 Then love's gone out of town ; 
 And when love's dream is o'er. 
 
 Then we wake and dream no more. 
 
 [Exit. 
 [The King evinces strong emotions during the song, and. 
 at the conclusion starts up. 
 
2 1 8 ' ' BOMB A STES > FURIOSO. 
 
 Fnsbos. What ails my liege ? ah ! why that, look so sad ? 
 
 King [coming forward]. I am in love ! I scorch, I freeze, Tm 
 mad ! 
 Oh, tell me, Fusbos, first and best of friends, 
 You, who have wisdom at your fingers' ends, 
 Shall it be so, or shall it not be soi" 
 Shall I my Griskinissa's charnis forego. 
 Compel her to give up the regal chair. 
 And place the rosy Distaffina there ? 
 In such a case, what course can I pursue ? 
 I love my queen, and Distaffina too. 
 
 Fusbos. ' And would a king his general supplant ? 
 I can't advise, upon my soul I can't. 
 
 King. So when two feasts, whereat there's nought to pay, 
 Fall unpropitious on the, self-same day. 
 The anxious Cit each invitation views, 
 And ponders which to take or which refuse : 
 From this or that to keep away is loth. 
 And sighs to think he cannot dine at both. [Exit. 
 
 Fusbos. So when some school-boy, on a rainy day, 
 Finds all his playmates vdll no longer stay. 
 He takes the hint himself— and walks away. \J^^^i 
 
 Scene II. — Att Avenue of Trees. 
 
 Enter the King. 
 
 King. I'll seek the maid I love, though in my way 
 A dozen gen'rals stood in fierce array ! 
 Such rosy beauties nature meant for kings ; 
 Subjects have treat enough to see such things. 
 
 Scene III. — Inside of a Cottage. 
 
 Enter Distaffina. 
 
 Distaf. This morn, as sleeping in my bed I lay, 
 i dreamt (and morning dreams come true they say), 
 I dreamt a cunning man my fortune told. 
 And soon the pots and pans were turned to gold ! 
 Then I resolv'd to cut a mighty dash ; 
 But, lo I ere I could turn them into cashj 
 Another cunning man rrty heart'betray'd, 
 Stole all away, and left my debts unpaid. 
 
 Enter the KING. 
 
 And pray, sir, who are you, I'd wish to know ? 
 King. Perfection's self, oh, smooth that angry brow ! 
 
BOMBASTES FURIOSO: 219 
 
 For love of, thee, I've wander'd thro' the town, 
 And here have come to offer half a crown. 
 
 Distaf. Fellow ! your paltry offer I despise ; 
 The great Bombastes''l,ove alone I prize. 
 
 King. He's but a general— damsel) I'm a king ; 
 ^ Distaf. Oh, sir, that makes it quite another thing. 
 
 King. And think not, maiden, I could e'er design 
 A sum so trifling for such charms as thine. 
 No ! the half crown that ting'd thy cheeks with red, 
 And bade fierce anger o'er thy beauties spread, 
 Was meant that thou should' st share my throne and bed. 
 
 Distaf. [aside]. My dream is out, and I shall soon behold 
 The pots and pans all turn to shining gold. 
 
 King \futs his hat down to kneel on]. Here, on my knees 
 (those knees which ne'er till now 
 To man or maid in suppliance bent) I vow 
 Still to remain, till you my hopes fulfil, ,i 
 
 - Fixt as the Monument on Fish Street Hill. 
 
 Distaf. {kneels]. And thus I swear, as I bestow my hand, 
 As long as e'er the Monument shall stand, 
 po long I'm yours 
 
 King. Are then my wishes crown'd ? 
 
 Distaf. La, sir ! I'd not say no for twenty pound ; 
 Let silly maids for love their favours yield, 
 Rich ones for me — a king against the field. 
 
 Song.— "/"arf^j Wedding:' 
 
 Queen Dido at 
 
 Her palace gate 
 Sat darning of her stocking O ; 
 
 She sung and drew 
 
 The worsted through, 
 Whilst her foot was the cradle rocking O ; 
 
 (For a babe she had 
 
 By a soldier lad, 
 Though hist'ry passes it over O) ; 
 
 "You tell-tale brat, 
 
 I've been a flat, 
 Your daddy has proved a rover O. 
 
 What a fool was I 
 
 To be cozen'd by 
 A fellow without a penny O ; 
 
 When rich ones came. 
 
 And ask'd the same, 
 For I'd offers from never so many O ; 
 
 But I'll darn my hose, 
 
 Look out for beaux, 
 And quickly get a new lover O ; 
 
 Then come, lads, come. 
 
 Love beats the drum, 
 And a iig for ^neas the rover O. " 
 
220 - BOM.BASTES FURIOSO. ' 
 
 King. So Orpheus sang of old, or poets lie, ; 
 
 And as the brutes were charmed, e'en so am I. 
 Rosy-cheek'd maid, henceforth my only queen, ' 
 Full soon shall thou in royal robes be seen ; , ; 
 
 And through my realm I'll issue this decree. 
 None' shall appear of taller growth than thee : 
 Painters no otlier face portray-^each sign < 
 O'er alehouse hung shall Change its head for thine. 
 Poets shall cancel their uripubhsh'd lays, 
 And none presume to write but in thy praise. 
 
 Distaf. [fetches a bottle and glass\. And may I then, without 
 , offending, crave 
 My love to taste of this, the best I have? 
 
 King. Were it the vilest liquor upon earth. 
 Thy touch would render it of matchless worth ; 
 Dear shall the gift be held that comes from you ; 
 Best proof of love \drinks\, 'tis full-proof Hodges' too ; 
 Through all my veins I feel a genial glow, 
 It fires my soul 
 
 Bombastes \within\. Ho, Distaffina, ho ! 
 
 King. Heard you that voice ? 
 
 Distaf. O yes, 'tis what's his name, 
 
 The General ; send him packing as he came. 
 
 King. And is it he ? and doth he hither come ? 
 Ah me ! my guilty conscience, strikes me dumb : 
 Where shall I go .'' say, whither shall I fly ? 
 Hide me, oh hide me from his injur'd eye ! 
 
 Distaf. Why, sure you're not alarm'd at such a thing ? 
 He's but a general, and you're a king. 
 
 [King conceals himself in a closet in flat. 
 
 Enter Bombastes. 
 
 Bombas. Lov'd Distaffina ! now by my scars I vow, 
 Scars got — I haven't time to tell you how ; 
 By all the risks my fearless heart hath run. 
 Risks of all shapes from bludgeon, sword, and gun, 
 Steel traps, the patrole, bailiff shrewd, and dun ; 
 By the great bunch of laurel on my brow. 
 Ne'er did thy charms exceed their present glow ! 
 
 Oh ! let me greet thee with a loving kiss [^Sees the hat. 
 
 Why, what the devil ! — say, whose hat is this ? 
 
 Distaf. Why, help your silly brains, that's not a hat. 
 
 Bombas. No hat .'' 
 
 Distaf. ■ Suppose it is, why, what of that ? 
 
 A hat can do no harm without a head ! 
 
 Bombas. Whoe'er it fits, this hour I doom him dead ; 
 
BOMBASTES FURIOSO. ?2i 
 
 Alive from hence the caitiff shall not stir [Discovers the KliTG. 
 
 Your most obedient, humble servant, sir. 
 King. Oh, general, oh ! , 
 
 Bombas. My muchjoved master, oh ! 
 
 What means all this ? 
 
 King. Indeed I hardly know 
 
 Distaf. You hardly know ? — a very pretty joke, 
 
 If kingly promises so soon are broke ! 
 
 Arn't I to be a queen, and dress so fine? 
 King. I do repent me of the foul design : 
 
 To thee, my brave Bombastes, I restore 
 
 Pure Distafifina, and will never more 
 
 Through lane or street with lawless passion rove. 
 
 But give to Griskinissa all my love. 
 Bombas. No, no, I'll love no more ; let him who can 
 
 Fancy the maid who fancies ev'ry man. 
 
 In some lone place I'll find a gloomy cave, 
 
 There my own hands shall dig a spacious grave. 
 
 Then all unseen I'll lay me down and die. 
 
 Since woman's constancy is — all my eye. 
 
 Trio.—" O Lady Fair .' " 
 
 Distaf. O, cruel man ! where are you going ? 
 
 Sad are my wants, my rent is owing. 
 Bombas. I go, I go, all comfort scorning ; 
 
 Some death I'll die before the morning. 
 Distaf. Heigho, heigho ! sad is that warning — 
 
 Oh, do not die before the morning ! 
 King. I'll follow him, all danger scorning ; 
 
 He shall not die before the morning. 
 Bombas. I go, I go, &c. - 
 Distaf. Heigho, heigho, &c. 
 King. I'll follow him, &c. 
 
 \They hold him by the coat-tails, but he gradually tug's 
 them off. 
 
 Scene IV. --.4 Wood. 
 
 Enter FusBOS. 
 
 Fusbos. This day is big with fate : just as I set 
 My foot across the threshold, lo ! I met 
 A man whose squint terrific struck my view ; 
 Another came, and lo ! he squinted too ; 
 ,And ere I'd reach'd the corner of the street, 
 Some ten short paces, 'twas my lot to meet 
 
222 ■ BOMBASTES FURIOSO. 
 
 A third who squinted more— a fourth, and he , 
 Squinted more vilely than the other three. 
 Such omens met the eye when Csesar fell, 
 But cautioned him in vain ; and who can tell 
 Whether those awful notices of fate 
 Are meant for kings or ministers of state ; 
 For rich or poor, old, young, or shbrt or tall, 
 The wrestler Love trips up the heels of all. 
 
 Song.—" My Lodging is on the Cold Ground. " 
 
 My lodging is in Leather Lane, 
 
 A parlour that's next to the sky ; 
 r 'Tis exposed to the wind and the rain, 
 
 But the wind and the rain I defy : 
 Such love warms the coldest of spots, 
 
 As I feel for Scrubinda the fair ; 
 Oh, she lives by the scouring of pots. 
 
 In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square. 
 
 Oh, were I a quart, pint, or gill, 
 
 To be scrubh'd by her delicate hands. 
 Let others possess what they will 
 
 Of learning, and houses, and lands ; 
 My parlour that's next to the sky 
 
 I'd quit, her blest mansion to share ; 
 So happy to live and to die 
 
 In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square. 
 
 And oh, would this damsel be mine. 
 
 No other provision I'd seek ; 
 On a look I could breakfast and dine. 
 
 And feast on a smile for a week. 
 But ah ! should she false-hearted prove. 
 
 Suspended, I'll dangle in air ; 
 A victim to delicate love. 
 
 In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Enter Bombastes, preceded by a Fifer, playing " Michael 
 Wiggins." 
 
 Bombas. Gentle musician, let thy dulcet strain 
 Proceed — play " Michael Wiggins " once again [he does so']. 
 Music's the food of love ; give o'er, give o'er. 
 For I must batten on that food no more. [Exit FiFER. 
 
 My happiness is chang'd to doleful dumps, 
 Whilst, merry Michael, all thy cards were trumps. 
 So, should some youth by fortune's blest decrees. 
 Possess at least a pound of Cheshire cheese, 
 And bent some favour'd party to regale. 
 Lay in a kilderkin, or so, of ale ; 
 
BOMBASTES FURIOSO. 223 
 
 Lo, angry fate 1 In one unlucky hour 
 
 Some hungry rats may all the cheese devour, 
 
 And the loud thunder turn the liquor sour [forms his sash into 
 
 a noose]. 
 Alas ! alack ! alack ! and well-a-day, 
 That ever man should make hims6lf away ! 
 That ever man for woman false should die, 
 As many have, and so, and so [prepares to hang hhnself, tries 
 
 the sensation, but disapproves of the result] won't I ! 
 No, I'll go mad ! 'gainst all I'll vent my rage, 
 And with this wicked wanton world a woeful war I'll wage ! 
 
 [Hangs his boots to the ar7n of a tree, and, taking a scrap 
 of paper, with a pencil writes the following couplet, 
 which he attaches to them, repeating the words : — 
 "Who dares this pair of boots displace, 
 
 Must meet Bombastes face to face." 
 Thus do I challenge all the human race. 
 
 [Draws his sword, and retires up the stage, and off. 
 
 Enter the King. 
 
 King. Scorning my proffer'd hand, he frowning fled, 
 Curs'd the fair maid, and shook his angry head [perceives the 
 
 boots and label]. 
 "Who dares this pair of boots displace, 
 
 Must meet Bombastes face to face." 
 Ha 1 dost thou dare me, vile obnoxious elf ? 
 I'll make thy threats as bootless as thyself : 
 Where'er thou art, with speed prepare to go 
 Where I shall send thee — to the shades below [knocks down the 
 
 boots]. 
 
 Bombas. [coming forward]. So have I heard on Afric's burn* 
 , ing shore, 
 A hungry lion give a grievous roar ; 
 The grievous roar echo'd along the shore. 
 
 King. So have I heard on Afric's burning shore 
 Another lion give a grievous roar. 
 And the first lion thought the last a bore. 
 
 Bombas. Am I then mocked ? Now by my fame I swear 
 You soon shall have it — There ! [They fight. 
 
 King. Where? 
 
 Bombas. There and there ! 
 
 King. I have it sure enough — Oh ! I am slain ! 
 I'd give a pot of beer to live again [falls on his back] ; 
 Yet ere I diel something have to say : 
 My once-loVd gen'ral, pri'thee come this way ! 
 Oh ! oh ! my Bom [Dies. 
 
224 BOMBASTES FURIOSO. 
 
 Bombas. — Bastes he would have said ; 
 
 But ere the word was out, his breath was fled. 
 Well, peace be with him, his untimely doom 
 Shall thus be mark'd upon his costly tomb : — 
 " Fate cropt him short — for be it understood. 
 
 He would have liv'd much longer — if he could." ^ 
 
 [Retires again up the stages 
 
 Enter FusBOS. 
 
 Fusbos. This was the "way they came, and much I fear- 
 There's mischief in the wind. What have we here ? 
 King Artaxominous bereft of life ! 
 Here'U be a pretty tale to tell his wife. 
 
 Bombas. A pretty tale, but not for thee to tell, 
 For thou shalt quickly follow him to hell ; 
 There say I sent thee, and I hope he's well. 
 
 Fusbos. No, thou thyself shaft thy own message bear ; 
 Short is the journey, thou wilt soon be there. 
 
 \They fight — Bombastes is wounded^ 
 
 Bombas. Oh, Fusbos, Fusbos ! I am diddled quite, 
 Dark clouds come o'er my eyes — farewell, good night ! ' 
 
 Good night ! my mighty soul's inclined to roam. 
 So make my compliments to all at home. 
 
 [Lies down by the KING. 
 
 Fusbos. And o'er thy grave a monument shall rise, 
 Where heroes yet unborn shall feast their eyes ; 
 And this short epitaph that speaks thy fame. 
 Shall also there immortalize my name : — ^ 
 " Here lies Bombastes, stout of heart and limb. 
 
 Who conquered all but Fusbos — Fusbos him." 
 
 Enter DiSTAFFlNA. 
 
 Distaf. Ah, wretched maid ! Oh, miserable fate ! 
 I've just arrived in time to be too late ; 
 What now shall hapless Distaffina do ? 
 Curse on all morning dreams, they come so true ! 
 
 Fusbos. Go, beauty go, thou source of woe to man, 
 And get another lover where you can : 
 The crown now sits on Griskinissa's head, 
 To her I'll go 
 
 Distaf. But are you sure they're dead .'' 
 
 Ftisbcs. Yes, dead as herrings — herrings that are red. 
 
BOMBASTES FURIOSO. 
 
 225 
 
 . FINALE. 
 
 Distaf, Briny tears I'll shed, 
 King. I for joy shall cry, too ; 
 
 Fusbos. Zounds ! the King's alive ! 
 Bombas. Yes, and so am I, too ! 
 
 Distaf. It was better far, 
 King. Thus to check all sorrow ; 
 
 Fusbos. But, if some folks please, 
 Bombas. We'll die again to-morrow ! 
 
 Distaf. Tu ral, lu ral, la, 
 King. Tu ral, lu ral, laddi ; 
 
 Fusbos. Tu ral, lu ral, la, 
 Bombas. Tu ral, lu ral, laddi ! 
 
 [Rising. 
 [Rising. 
 
 They take hands and dance round, repeating Chorus. 
 
Rejected Addresses. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 On the 14th of August, 18 12, the following advertisement 
 appeared in most of the daily papers : 
 
 " Rebuilding of Drury Lane Theatre. 
 
 7 " The Committee' are desirous of promoting a free and fair 
 competition for an Address to be spoken upon the opening of 
 the Theatre, which will take place on the loth of October next. 
 They have therefore thought fit to announce to the public, that 
 they will be glad to receive any such compositions, addressed to 
 their Secretary, at the Treasury Office, in Drury Lane, on or 
 before the loth of September, sealed up, with a distinguishing 
 word,, number, or motto, on the cover, corresponding with the 
 inscription on a separate sealed paper containing the name of 
 the author, which will not be opened, unless containing the name 
 of the successful candidate." 
 
 Upon, the propriety of this plan, men's minds were, as they 
 usually are upon matters of moment, much divided. Some 
 thought it a fair promise of the future intention of the Committee 
 to abolish that phalanx of authors who usurp the stage, to the 
 exclusion of a large assortment of dramatic talent blushing - 
 unseen in the background ; while others contended, that the 
 scheme would prevent men of real eminence from descending 
 
 '. into an amphitheatre in which all Grub Street (that is to say, 
 
 -all London and Westminster) would be arrayed against them. 
 The event has proved both parties to be in a degree right, and 
 in a degree wrong. One hundred and twelve Addresses have 
 been sent in, each sealed and signed, and mottoed, " as per 
 order," some written by men of great, some by men of little, 
 and some by men of no talent. 
 
 Many of the public prints have censured the taste of the 
 Committee, in thus contracting for Addresses as they would for 
 nails-^by the gross ; but it is surprising that none should have 
 censured their temerity. One hundred and eleven of the 
 
 ■^Addriesses must, of course, be unsuccessful : to each of the, 
 
 H 3 
 
228 ' REyECTED ADDRESSES. ' 
 
 authors, thus infalUbly classed ' with the genus irritaiile, it. 
 would be very hard to deny six staunch friends, who consider 
 ' his the best of all possible' Addresses, and whose tongues will 
 be as ready to laud him as to hiss his adversary. These, with 
 the potent aid of the bard himself, make seven foes per Address, 
 and thus will be created seven hundred and seventy-seven 
 implacable auditors, prepared to condemn the strains of Apollo 
 himself; a band of adversaries which no prudent manager 
 would think of exasperating. 
 
 But leaving the Committee to encounter the responsibility' 
 they have incurred, the public have at least to thank them for 
 ascertaining and estabhshing one point, Which might otherwise 
 have admitted of controversy*. When it is considered that many 
 amateur writers have been discouraged from becoming com^, 
 petitors, and that few, if any, of the professional authors caii 
 afford to write for nothii^g, and of course have not been 
 candidates for the honorary prize at Drury Lane, we may 
 confidently pronounce, that, as far as regards number, the pre- 
 sent is undoubtedly the Augustan age of English poetry. 
 Whether or not this distinction will be extended to the quality 
 of its productions, must be decided at the tribunal of posterity, 
 though the natural anxiety of our authors on this score ought to 
 be considerably diminished, when they reflect how few will, in - 
 aU probability, be had up for judgment. 
 
 It is not necessary for the Editor to mention the manner in 
 which he became possessed of this " fair sample of the present 
 state of poetry in Great Britain." It was his first, intention to 
 publish the whole ,; but a little reflection convinced him that, by 
 so doing, he might depress the good, without elevating the bad. ' 
 He has therefore culled what had the appearance of flowers, 
 from what possessed the reality of weeds, and is extremely sorry' 
 that, in so doing, he has diminished his collection to twenty-one, 
 Those which he has rejected may possibly make their appear-' '.-, 
 ance in a separate volume, or they may be admitted as volunteers 
 in the files of some of the newspapers ; or, at all eventsj they 
 are sure of being received among the awkward squad of the 
 Magazines, In general, they bear a close resemblance to each 
 other : thirty of them contain extravagant coinpliments to the 
 immortal Wellington, and the indefatigable Whitbread ; and, as 
 the last-mentioned gentleman is said to dislike praise in the 
 exact proportion in which he deserves it, these laudatory writers 
 have probably been only building a wall,' against which they 
 might run their own heads. 
 
 The Editor here begs leave to advance a few words in behalf 
 of that useful and much-abused bird, the Phoenix, and in so 
 doing he is biassed by no partiality, as he assures the reader-he 
 not only never saw one, but {mirabile dictu !) never caged one in 
 a simile in the whole course of his life.' Not' less than sixty-nine 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 229 
 
 of the competitors have invoked the, aid of this native of Arabia ; 
 but as from their manner of using him, after they had caught 
 him, he does not by any means appear to have been a native of 
 Arabia Felix, the Editor has left the proprietors to treat vcith 
 Mr. Polito,. and refused to receive this rara avis, or black swan, 
 into the present collection. One exception occurs, in which the 
 admirable treatment of this feathered incombustible entitles the 
 author to great praise. That Address has been preserved, 
 and in the ensuing pages takes the lead, to which its dignity 
 eiititles it. 
 
 Perhaps the reason why several of the subjoined productions 
 of the MySvE Londinenses have failed of selection, may be 
 discovered in their being penned in a metre Unusual upon 
 occasions of this sort, and in their not being written with that 
 attention to stage effect, the want of which, like want of manners 
 in the concerns of life, is more prejudicial than a deficiency of 
 I talent. There is an art iii writing for the Theatre, technically 
 called touch and go, which is indispensable when we consider the 
 small quantum of patience which so motley an assemblage as a 
 London audience, can be expected to afford. All the contributors 
 have been very exact in sending their initials and mottoes. Those 
 belonging to the present collection have been carefully pre- 
 served, and each has been affixed to its respective poem. The 
 letters that accompanied the Addresses having been honourably 
 destroyed unopened, it is impossible to state the real authors 
 with any certainty, but the ingenious reader, after corriparing 
 the initials with the motto, and both with the poem, may form 
 his own conclusions. 
 
 The Editor does not anticipate any disapprobation from thus 
 giving publicity to a small portion of the REJECTED Addresses ; 
 for, unless he is widely mistaken in assigning tlie respective 
 authors, the fame of each individual is established on much too 
 firm a basis to be shaken by so trifling and evanescent a publi- 
 cation as the present : 
 
 neque ego illi detrahere ausim 
 Hserentem capiti multa, cum laude coronam. 
 
 Of the numerous pieces already sent to the Committee for 
 performance, he has only availed himself of three vocal Traves- 
 ties, which he; has selected, not for their merit, but simply for 
 their brevity. Above one hundred spectacles, melodramas, 
 operas, and pantomimes have been transmitted, besides the two. 
 first acts of one legitimate comedy. Some of these evince con- 
 siderable smartness of maiiual dialogue, and several brilliant 
 repartees of chairs, tables, and . other inanimate wits ; but the 
 authors seem to have forgotten that in the new Drury Lane the 
 audience can hear as well as see. Of late oui* theatres have been 
 so constructed that John Bull has been compelled to have very 
 
230 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 long ears, or none at all; to keep them dangling about his skull 
 like discarded sei-vants, while his eyes were gazing at piebalds 
 and elephants, or else to stretch them out to an asinine length, 
 to catch the congenial sound of braying trumpets. An auricular 
 revolution is, we trust, about to take place ; and, as rftahy people 
 have been much puzzled to define the meaning of the new era, 
 of which we have heard so much, we venture to pronounce, that 
 as far as regards Drury Lane Theatre, the new era means the- 
 reign of ears. If the past affords any pledge for the future, we; 
 may confidently expect from the Committee of that House, 
 everything that can be accomplished by the union of taste and 
 assiduity. 
 
 LOYAL EFFUSION. 
 By W. T. F. 
 
 Quicquid dicunt, laudo : id rursum si negant 
 Laudo id quoque. — Tekence. 
 
 Hail, glorious edifice, stupendous work ! 
 God bless the Regent and the Duke of York ! 
 
 Ye Muses ! by whose aid I cried down Fox, 
 Grant me in Drury Lane a private box, 
 Where I may loll, cry bravo, and profess 
 The boundless powers of England's glorious press ; 
 While Afric's sons exclaim, from shore to shore, 
 " Ouashee ma boo ! " the slave-trade is no more. 
 
 In fair Arabia (happy once, now stony. 
 Since ruined by that arch apostate, Boney), 
 A phoenix late was caught : the Arab host 
 Long ponder'd, part would boil it, part would roast : 
 But while they ponder, up the pot-lid flies. 
 Fledged, beak'd, and claw'd, alive, they see him rise 
 To heaven, and caw defiance in the skies. 
 So Drury, first in roasting flames consumed, 
 Then by old renters to hot water doom'd, 
 By Wyatt's trowel patted, plump and sleek, 
 Soars without wings, and caws without a beak. 
 Gallia's stern despot shall in vain advance 
 From Paris, the metropolis of France ; 
 By this day month the monster shall not gain 
 A foot of land in Portugal or Spain. 
 See WellingtOh in Salamanca's field 
 Forces his favourite genej-al to yield, 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 231 
 
 Breaks thro' his lines, and leaves his boasted Marmont 
 Expiring on the plain without his arm on : 
 Madrid he enters at the cannon's mouth, 
 And then the villages still further south. 
 Base Buonaparte fiU'd with deadly ire, 
 Sets, one by one, our playhouses on fire ; 
 Some years ago he pounced with deadly glee on 
 The Opera House, then burnt down the Pantheon ; 
 Nay, still unsated, in a coat of flames, 
 Next at Millbank he crossed the river Thames : 
 Thy hatch, O halfpenny ! pass'd in a trice, 
 , Boil'd some black pitch, and burnt down Astley's twice ; 
 Then buzzing on thro' ether with a vile hum, 
 Turn'd to the left hand, fronting the asylum, 
 And burnt the Royal Circus in a hurry, — 
 ('Twas call'd the Circus then, but now the' Surrey). 
 
 Who burnt' (confound his soul !) the houses twain 
 Of Covent Garden and of Drury Lane ? 
 Who, while the British squadron lay off Cork 
 (God bless the Regent and the Duke of York), 
 With a foul earthquake ravaged the Caraccas, 
 And raised the price of dry goods and tobaccos ? 
 Who makes the quartern loaf and Luddites, rise ? 
 Who fills the butchers' shops with large blue flies 1 
 Who thought in flames St. James's Court to pinch .'' 
 Who burnt the wardrobe of poor Lady Finch .? 
 Why he, who, forging for this isle a yoke. 
 Reminds me of a line I lately spoke, 
 " The tree of freedom is the British oak." 
 
 Bless every man possessed of aught to give ; 
 Long may Long Tilney Wellesley Long Pole live ; 
 God bless the army, bless their coats of scarlet, 
 God bless the navy, bless the Princess Charlotte, 
 God bless the guards, though worsted Gallia scoff. 
 And -bless their pigtails, tho' they're now cut off ; 
 And oh, in Downing Street should Old Nick revel, 
 England's prime minister, then bless the DevilJ 
 
232 RE7ECT£D^ ADDRESSES. 
 
 THE BABY'S DEBUT. 
 By W. W. 
 
 Thy lisping prattle and thy mincing gait, ' 
 
 . All thy false mimic fooleries I hate, 
 For thou art Folly's counterfeit, and she 
 Who is right foohsh hath the better plea ; 
 Nature's true Idiot I prefer to thee.— Cumberland. 
 
 '{Spoken in the character of Nancy Lake, a girl eight yectn oj 
 age^ -who is dranun upon tKe stage in a child's chaise, by 
 SAUVEh Hughes, her uncle's porter.} 
 
 My brpther Jack was nine in May, 
 And I was eight on New-year's-day ; 
 
 So in Kate Wilson's shop 
 Papa (he's my papa and Jack's) 
 Bought me, last week, a doll of wax. 
 
 And brother Jack a top. 
 
 Jack's in the pouts, and this it is, 
 
 He thinks mine came to more than his, 
 
 So to my drawer he goes, 
 Takes out the doll, and, oh, my stars ! 
 He pokes her head between the bars, 
 
 And melts off half her nose ! 
 
 Quite cross, a bit of string I beg. 
 And tie it to his peg-top's peg, 
 
 And bang, with might and main, 
 Its head against the parlour door : - , 
 
 Off flies the head, and hits the floor, , 
 
 And breaks a window-pane. 
 
 This made him cry with rage and spite : 
 Well, let him cry, it serves him right. 
 
 A pretty thing, forsooth ! 
 If he's to melt, all scalding hot. 
 Half my doll's nose, and I am not 
 
 To draw his peg-top's tooth ! 
 
 Aunt Hannah heard the window break. 
 And cried, " O naughty Nancy Lake, 
 
 Thus to distress your aunt : 
 No Drury Lane for you to-day ! " 
 And while papa said, " Pooh, she may ! " 
 
 Mamma said, " No, she shan't ! " 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. '33^ 
 
 Well, after many a sad reproach, 
 They got into a hackney coach, 
 
 And trotted down ,the street. 
 I saw them go : one horse was blind, 
 The tails of both hung down behind. 
 
 Their shoes were on their feet. 
 
 The chaise in which poor brother Bill 
 Used to be drawn to Pentonville, 
 
 Stood in the lumber-room : 
 I wiped the dust from off the top, 
 While Molly mopp'd it with a mop. 
 
 And brush'd it with a broom. 
 
 My uncle's porter, Samuel Hughes, 
 Came in at six to black the shoes 
 
 (I always talk to Sa!m) : 
 So what does he, but takes, and drags 
 Me in the chaise along the flags. 
 
 And leaves me where I am. 
 
 My father's walls are made of brick, 
 But not so tall, and not so thick. 
 
 As these ; and, goodness me 1 
 My father's beams are made of wood. 
 But never^ never half so good. 
 
 As these that now I see. 
 
 What a large floor ! 'tis like a town ! 
 The carpet, when they lay it down, 
 
 Won't hide it, I'll be bljund. 
 And there's a row of lamps ! my eye ! 
 How they do blaze ! I wonder why 
 
 They keep them on the ground. 
 
 At first I caught hold of the wing, 
 
 And kept away ; but Mr. Thing- 
 umbob, the prompter man, 
 
 Gave with his hand my chaise a shoVe, 
 
 And said, " Go on, my pretty love. 
 Speak to 'eni, little Nan. 
 
 " You've only got to curtsey, whisp- 
 er, hold your chin up, laugh and lisp, 
 
 And then you're sure tq take : 
 I've known the day when brats not quite 
 Thirteen got fifty pounds a night ; 
 
 Then why not Nancy Lake .'' " 
 
234 kE'jECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 But while I'm speaking, where's papa ? 
 
 And Where's my aunt ? and where's mamma ? 
 
 Where's Jack ? Qh, there they sit ! 
 They smile, they nod, I'll go my ways, 
 And order round poor Billy's chaise, 
 
 To join them in the pit. 
 
 And now, good gentlefolks, I go 
 To join mamma, and see the show ; 
 
 So, bidding you adieu, 
 I curtsey, like a pretty miss, 
 And if you'll blow to me a kiss, 
 
 I'll blow a kiss to you. , 
 
 [Blows kiss, andiCxit. 
 
 AN ADDRESS WITHOUT A PHOENIX. 
 By S. T. p. 
 
 This was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulk'd.^ 
 
 What You Will. 
 
 What stately vision mocks my waking sense ? 
 
 Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment, hence ! 
 
 Ha ! is it real ? — can my doubts be vain ? 
 
 It is, it is, and Drury lives again ! 
 
 Around each grateful veteran attends, 
 
 Eager to rush and gratulate his friends, 
 
 Friends whose kind looks, retraced with proud delight, 
 
 Endear the past, and make the future bright. 
 
 Ye^, generous patrons, your returning smile 
 
 Blesses our toils, and consecrates our pile. 
 
 When last we met, Fate's unrelenting hand 
 Already grasp'd the devastating brand ; 
 Slow crept the silent flame, ensnared its prize, 
 Then burst resistless to the astonish'd skies. 
 The glowing walls, disrobed of scenic pride. 
 In, trembling conflict stemm'd the burning tide. 
 Till crackling, blazing, rocking to its fall, 
 Down rush'd the thundering roof, and buried all ! 
 
 Where late the sister Muses sweetly sung, , 
 And raptur'd thousands on their music hung. 
 Where Wit and Wisdom shone by Beauty graced, 
 Sate lonely Silence, empress of the waste ; 
 And still had reign'd — ^but he whose voice can raise 
 More magic wonders than Amphion's lays, 
 Bade jarring bands with friendly zeal engage, 
 To rear the prostrate glories of the stage. 
 
, REJECTED ADDRESSES. 235 
 
 Up leap'd the Muses at the potent spell, 
 And Drury's geiiius saw his temple swell, 
 Worthy, we hope, the British Drama's cause, 
 Worthy of British arts, and your applause. 
 
 Guided by you, our earnest aims presume 
 To renovate the t)rama with the dome ; 
 The scenes of Shakespeare and our bards of old, 
 With due observance ^lendidly unfold, 
 Yet raise and foster with parental hand 
 The living talent of our native land. 
 O ! may we still, to sense and nature true, 
 Delight the many, nor offend the few. 
 Tho' varying tastes our changeful drama claim. 
 Still be its moral tendency the same, 
 To win by precept, by example warn, 
 To brand the front of vice with pointed scorn, 
 And Virtue's smiling brows with votive wreaths adorn. 
 
 CUI BONO? 
 
 By Lokd B. 
 
 I. 
 
 Sated with home, of wife, of children tired, 
 
 The restless soul is driven abroad to roam ; 
 
 Sated abroad, all seen, yet nought admired, 
 
 The restless soul is driven to ramble home ; 
 
 Sated with both, beneath new Drury's dome 
 
 The f.end Ennui awhile consents to pine. 
 
 There growls, and curses, like a deadly gnome, 
 
 Scorning to view fantastic columbine. 
 
 Viewing with scorn and hate the nonsense of the Nine. 
 
 Ye reckless dupes, who hither wend your way, 
 To gaze on puppets in a painted dome, 
 Pursuing pastimes glittering to betray, 
 Like falling stars in life's eternal gloom, 
 What seek ye here .'' Joy's evanescent bloom ? 
 Woe's me ! ,the brightest wreaths she ever gave 
 Are but as flowers that decorate a tomb. 
 Man's heart the mournful urn o'er which they wave, 
 Is sacred to despair, its pedestal the grave. 
 
 III. 
 
 Has life so little store of real woes, 
 
 That here ye wend to taste fictitious grief? 
 
 Or is it that from truth such anguish flows, 
 
236 REJECtEi) ADDRESSES. 
 
 Ye court the lying drama for Irelief? 
 
 [Long shall ye find the pang, the respite brief, 
 
 Or if one tolerable page appears 
 
 In folly's volume, 'tis the actor's leaf, 
 
 Wiio dries his own by drawing others' tears. 
 
 And, raising present mirth, makes glad his future years. 
 
 IV. , 
 
 Albeit how like young Betty doth he flee ! 
 
 Light as the mote that danceth in the beam. 
 
 He liveth only in man's present e'e, 
 
 His life a flash, his memory a dream, 
 
 Oblivious down he drops in Lethe's stream ; 
 
 Yet what are they, the learned and the great ? 
 
 Awhile of longer wonderment the theme ! 
 
 Who shall presume to prophesy their date, 
 
 Where nought is certain, save the uncertainty of fate ? 
 
 V. 
 
 This goodly pile, upheav'd by Wyatt's toil. 
 
 Perchance than Holland's edifice more fleet, 
 
 Again red Lemnos' artisan may spoil ; 
 
 The fiare alarm, and midnight drum may beat, 
 
 And all be strew'd ysmoking at your feet. 
 
 Start ye .' Perchance Death's angel may be sent 
 
 Ere from the flaming temple ye retreat. 
 
 And ye who met on revel idlesse bent, 
 
 May find in pleasure's fane your grave and monumeiit.' 
 
 VI. 
 
 Your debts mount high — ye plunge in deepeif waste, 
 
 The tradesman calls — no wai-ning voice ye hear ; 
 
 The plaintiff sues — to pubhc shows ye haste ; 
 
 The bailiff threats — ^ye feel no idle fear. 
 
 Who can arrest your pirodigal career ? 
 
 Who can keep down the levity of youth ? 
 
 What sound can startle age's stubborn ear ? 
 
 Who can redeem from wretchedness and ruth 
 
 Men true to falshood's voice, false to the voice of truth ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 To thee, blest saint ! who doffed thy skin to make ■ 
 The Smithfield rabble leap from theirs with joy, 
 We dedicate the pile — arise ! awake ! — 
 Knock down the Muses, wit and sense destroy. 
 Clear our new stage from reason's dull alloyj 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 237 
 
 Chai-fti hobbling age, and tickle capering youth 
 
 With cleaver, marrow-bone, and Tunbridge toy ; 
 
 While, vibrating in unbelieving tooth. 
 
 Harps tvcang in Drury's walls, and make her boards a booth. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For what is Hamlet, but a hare in March ? 
 
 And what is Brutus, but a croaking owl ? 
 
 And what is RoUa ? Cupid steep'd in starch, 
 
 Orlando's helmet in Augustine's cowl. 
 
 Shakespeare, how true thine adage, " fair is foul ; '' 
 
 To him whose soul is with fruition fraught 
 
 The song of Braham is an Irish howl, 
 
 Thinking is but an idle waste of thought. 
 
 And nought is everything, and everything is nought, 
 
 IX. 
 
 Sons of Parnassus .'' whom I view above, 
 
 Ni3t laurel-crown'd but clad in rusty black, 
 
 Not spurring Pegasus through Tempi's grove. 
 
 But pacing Grub Street on a jaded hack. 
 
 What reams of foolscap, while your brains ye rack. 
 
 Ye mar to make again ! for sure, ere long, 
 
 Condemn'd to tread the bard's time-sanctioned track. 
 
 Ye all shall join the bailiff-haunted throng. 
 
 And reproduce in rags the rags ye blot in song. 
 
 So fares the follower in the Muses' train. 
 
 He toils to starve, and only lives in death ; 
 
 We slight him till our patronage is vain. 
 
 Then round his skeleton a garland wreathe. 
 
 And o'er his bones an empty requiem breathe — 
 
 Oh ! with what tragic horror would he start 
 
 (Gould he be conjured from the grave beneath). 
 
 To find the stage again a Thespian cart. 
 
 And elephants and colts down trampling Shakespeare's art. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Hence, pedant Nature ! with thy Grecian rules ! 
 
 Centaurs (not fabulous) those rules efface ; 
 
 Back, sister Muses, to your native schools ; 
 
 Here booted grooms usurp Apollo's place. 
 
 Hoofs shame the boards that Garrick used to grace, , 
 
 The play of limbs succeeds the play of wit ; 
 
 Man yields the drama to the Houynim race. 
 
 His prompter spurs, his licencer the bit. 
 
 The stage a stable-yard, a jockey-club the pic. 
 
238 ' ' • REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Is it for these ye rear this proud abode ? 
 
 Is it for these your superstition seeks ' 
 
 To build a temple worthy of a god, 
 
 To laud a monkey, or to worship leeks ? 
 
 Then be the stage, to recompense yovir freaks, ' 
 
 A motley chaos, jumbling age and ranks, 
 
 Where Punch, the lignum vitas Roscius, squeaks. 
 
 And Wisdom weeps, and Folly plays his pranks, 
 
 And moody Madness laughs, and hugs the chain he clanKs. 
 
 To the Secretary of the Managing Committee of Drury Lane 
 Playhouse, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 To the gewgaw fetters of rhyme (invented by the monks to 
 enslave the people) I have a rooted objection. I have there- 
 fore written an address for your theatre in plain, homespilnj 
 ^eoman's prose ; in the doing whereof I hope I am swayed by' 
 nothing but an independent wish to open the eyes of this gtjUed 
 people, to prevent a repetition of the dramatic bamboozling they 
 have hitherto laboured under. If you like what I have done, 
 and mean to make use of it, I don't want any such aristocratic 
 reward as a piece of plate with two griffins sprawling upon it, 
 or a dog and a jackass fighting for a ha'p'worth of gilt ginger- 
 bread, or any such Bartholomew Fair nonsense. All I askjs, 
 that the door-keepers of your playhouse may take all the sets of 
 my Register, now on hand, and force everybody who enters 
 your door to buy one, giving afterwards a debtor and creditor 
 account of what they have received, post-paid, and in due course 
 •remitting me the mbney and unsold Registers, carriage-paid. 
 
 I am, &c., 
 
 W. C. 
 
 IN THE CHARACTER OF A HAMPSHIRE 
 FARMER. 
 
 Rabid^ qui concitus \xk 
 ' Implevit pariter ternis latratibus auras 
 
 Et sparsit virides spumis albentibus agros. — OviD. 
 
 Most thinking People, 
 
 When persons address an audience from the stage, it is usual, 
 either in words or gesture, to say, "Ladies and Gentlemen, 
 your servant." If I were base aiough, mean enough, paltry 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 239 
 
 enough, and brute beast enough, to follow that fashion, I should 
 tell two lies in a breath. In the first place, you are not ladies 
 and gentlemen, but I hope something better— that is to say, 
 honest men and women ; and in the next place, if 'you were 
 ever so much ladies, and ever so much gentlemen, I am not, 
 nor ever will be, your humble servant. You see me here, most 
 thinking people, by mere chance. I have not been within the 
 doors of a playhouse before for these ten years, nor till that 
 abominable custom of taking money at the doors is discon- 
 tinued, will I ever sanction a theatre with my presence. The 
 stage-door is the only gate of freedom in the whole edifice, and 
 through that I made my way from Bagshaw's in Brydges Street, 
 to accost you. Looli about you. Are you not all comfortable .? 
 Nay, never slink, mun ; speak out, if you are dissatisfied, and 
 tell me so before I leave- town. You are now (thanks to Mr. 
 Whitbread) got into a large, comfortable house. Not into a 
 gimcrack palace ; not into a Solomon's temple ; not into a 
 frost-work of Brobdingnag filagree; but into a plain, honest, 
 homely, industrious, wholesome, brown, brick. playhouse. You 
 have been struggling for independence and elbow-room these 
 three years ; and who gave it you ? Who helped you out of 
 Lilliput ? Who routed you from a rat-hole, five inches by four, 
 to^ perch you in a palace? Again and again I answer, Mr. 
 Whitbread. You might have sweltered in that place with the 
 Greek name till Doomsday, and neither Lord Castlereagh, Mr. 
 Canning; no, nor the Marquis Wellesley, would have turned a 
 trowel to help you out ! Remember that. Never forget that. 
 Read it to your children, and to your children's children ! And 
 now, most thinking people, cast your eyes over my head to what 
 the builder (I beg his pardon, the architect) calls the proscenium. 
 No motto, no slang, no Popish Latin to keep the people in the 
 dark. No Veluti in speculum. Nothing in the dead languages, 
 properly so called, for they^ought to die, ay, and be damned to 
 boot ! The Covent Garden manager tried that, and a pretty 
 business he made of it ! When a 'man says Veluti in speculum, 
 . he is called a man of letters. Very well, and is not a man who 
 -cries O.P. a man of letters too ? You ran your O.P. against his 
 Veluti in specuhcm, and pray which beat ? I prophesied that, 
 though 1 never told anybody. ' I take it for granted, that every 
 intelligent man, woman, and child, to whom 1 address myself, 
 has stood severally and respectively in Little Russell Street,' and 
 cast their, his, her, and its eyes on the outside of this building 
 before they paid their rnoney to view the inside. Look at the 
 brick- work, English audience ! Look at the brick- work ! All 
 plain and smooth like a quaker's meeting. None of your 
 Egyptian pyramids, to entomb subscribers' capitals. No over- 
 grown colonnades of stone, hke an alderman's gouty legs in 
 white cotton stockings, fit only to use as rammers for paving 
 
240 REJECTED ADDRESSES. \ 
 
 Tottenham Court Road. This liouse is neither after the model 
 of a temple in Athens, no, nor a temple in Moorfields, bu,t it is > 
 built to act English plays in, and provided you have good 
 scenery, dresses, and decorations, I dare say you wouldn't breaki 
 your hearts if the outside were as plain as the pikestaff I usedl, 
 to carry when I was a sergeant. Apropos, as the French valets 
 say, who cut their masters' throats — apropos, a word about 
 dresses. You must, many of you, have seen what I have read | 
 a description of — Kemble and Mrs. Siddons in " Macbeth," with , 
 more gold and silver plastered on their doublets than would 
 have kept an' honest family in butchers' meat and flannel from 
 year's end to yeai's end ! I am informed (now mind, I do not ! 
 vouch for the fact), but I am informed that all such extravagant 
 idleness is to be done away with here. Lady Macbeth is to have 
 a plain quilted petticbat, a cotton gown, and a mob cap (as the i 
 court parasites call it ; it will be well for them if, one of these 
 days, they don't wear a mob cap — I mean a white cap, with a 
 mob to look at them), and Macbeth is to appear in an honest ! 
 yeoman's drab coat, and a pair of bla;ck calamanco breeches, j 
 Not ^iz/amanca ; no, nor Talavera neither, my most noble \ 
 Marquis, but plain, honest, black calamanco, stuff breeches. ' 
 This is right ; this is as it should be. Most thiiijcing 
 people, I have heard you much abused. There is not a com- 
 pound in the language but is strung fifty. in a rope, like onions, 
 by the Morning Post, and hurled in your teeth. You are called 
 the mob, and when they have made you out to be the mob, you 
 are callpd the scum of the people, and the dregs of the people. 
 I should like to know how you can be both. Take a basin of 
 broth — not cheap soup, Mr. Wilberforce, not soup for the poor 
 at a penny a quart, as your mixture of horses' legs, brick-dust, 
 and old shoes was denominated, but plain, wholesdmej patriotic 
 beef or mutton broth ; take this, examine it, and you will find — 
 mind, I don't vouch for the fact, but I am told you will find 
 the dregs at the bottom, and the scum at the top. I will en- 
 deavour to explain this to you : England is a large earthenware 
 pipHn. John Bull is the beef thrown into it. Taxes are the 
 Hot water he boils in. Rotten boroughs are the fuel that blazes 
 under this same pipkin. Parliament is the ladle that stirs the 
 hodge-podge, and sometimes— but hold, I don't wish to pay 
 Mr. Newman a second visit. I leave you (better off than* you , 
 have been this many a day. You have a good house over your 
 head ; you have beat the French in Spain ; the harvest has 
 turned out well ; the comet keeps its distance ; and red sHppers 
 are hawked about in Constantinople for next to nothing, and for' , 
 all this, again and again I tell you, you are indebted to Mr. 
 Whitbread ! 
 
kEfEct:Ep Addresses. 241 
 
 THE LIVING LUSTRES. 
 
 By T. M. 
 
 Jam te juvaverit 
 
 Viros relinquere, 
 
 DoctEeque conjugis 
 
 Sinu quiescefe.— Sir T. More. 
 
 O whV should our dull retrospective Addresses 
 Fall damp as wet blankets on Drury Lane fire ? 
 
 Away with blue devils, away with distresses, 
 And give the gay spirit to sparkling desire ! 
 
 II. 
 Let artists decide on the beauties of Drury, 
 
 The richest to me is when woman is there : 
 The. question of houses I leave to the jury; 
 
 The fairest to me is the house of the fair. 
 
 III. 
 
 When woman's soft smile all our senses bewilders. 
 And gilds while it carves her dear form on the heart, 
 
 What need has New Drury of carvers and gilders, 
 With Nature so bounteous, why call upon Art ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 How well would our actors attend to their duties, 
 -Our house save in oil, and our authors in wit. 
 
 In lieu of yon lamps, if a row of young beauties 
 Glanced light from their eyes between us and the pit. 
 
 The apples that grew on the fruit-tree of knowledge 
 By woman were pluck'd, and she still wears the prize, 
 
 To tempt us in Theatre, Senate, or College ; 
 I niean the love-apples that bloom in the eyes. 
 
 VI. 
 
 There too is the lash which, all statutes controlling, 
 Still governs the slaves that are made by the fair; 
 For man is the pupil, who, while her eye's rolling, 
 , Is lifted to rapture or sunk in despair. 
 
?43 ' REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Bloom, Theatre, bloom, in the roseate blushes 
 Of beauty illumed by a love-breathing smile ; 
 
 And flourish, ye pillars, as green as the rushes 
 That pillow the nymphs of the Emerald Isle. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For dear is the Emerald Isle of the Ocean, 
 Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave, 
 
 Whose sons, unaccustomed to rebel commotion, 
 Tho' joyous are sober, tho' peaceful are brave. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The shamrock their olive, sworn foe to a quarrel. 
 Protects from the thunder and lightning of rows ; 
 
 Their sprig of shillelagh is nothing but laurel, 
 Which flourishes rapidly over their brows. 
 
 Oh 1 soon shall they burst the tyrannical shackles. 
 Which each panting bosom indignantly names, 
 
 Until not one goose at the capital cackles, 
 Against the grand question of Catholic claims. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And then shall each Paddy, who once on the Liffy 
 Perchance held the helm of some mack'rel hoy. 
 
 Hold the helm of the state, and dispense in a jiffy 
 More fishes than ever he caught when a boy. 
 
 And those who now quit their hods, shovels, and barrows, 
 In crowds to the bar of some ale-house to flock. 
 
 When bred to our bar shall be Gibbs's and Garrows, 
 Assume the silk gowii and discard the smock-frock. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 For Erin surpasses the daughters of Neptune, 
 
 As Dian outshines each encircling star. 
 And the spheres of the Heavens could never have kept tune 
 
 Till set to the music of Erin-go-bra ! 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 243 
 
 THE REBUILDING. 
 
 By R. S. 
 
 — per audaces nova dithyrambos 
 Verba devolvit, numerisque fertur 
 Lege solutis Hokat. 
 
 Spoken by a Glendoveer. 
 
 I am a blessed Glendoveer ; 
 
 'Tis mine to speak, and yours to hear. 
 
 Midnight, yet not a nose 
 From Tower Hill to Piccadilly snored ! 
 
 Midnight, yet not a nose 
 From Indra drew the essence of repose ! 
 See with what crimson fury, 
 By Indra fajin'd, the god of fire ascends the walls of 
 Drury ; 
 The tops of houses, blue with lead, 
 Bend beneath the landlord's tread. 
 
 Master and 'prentice, serving man and lord, 
 Nailer and tailor. 
 Grazier and brazier, 
 Thro' streets and alleys pour'd, 
 All, all abroad to gaze. 
 And wonder at the blaze. 
 Thick calf, fat foot, and slim knee, 
 Mounted on roof and chimney, 
 The mighty roast, the mighty stew 
 To see ; 
 As if the dismal view 
 Were but to them a Brentford jubilee. 
 
 Vainly, all radiant Surya, sire of Phaetbn, 
 (By the Greeks called Apollo) 
 
 Hollow 
 Sounds from thy harp proceed ; 
 Combustible as reed, 
 The tongue of Vulcan licks thy wooden legs : 
 From Drury's top, dissever'd from thy pegs, 
 Thou tumblest, 
 Humblest, 
 Where late thy bright effulgence shone on high : 
 While, by thy somerset excited, fly 
 Ten miUion, 
 Billion 
 Sparks from the pit, to gem the sable sky. 
 
244 REJEPTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Now come the men of fire to quench the fires, 
 To Russell Street see Globe and Atlas run, 
 Hope gallops first, and second Sun ; 
 On flying heel, 
 See Hand-in-Hand , 
 O'ertake the band ; 
 View with what glowing wheel 
 He hicks 
 Phoenix ; 
 While Albipn scampers from Bridge Street, Blackfriars, 
 ' Drury Lane ! Drury Lane ! 
 , Drurv Lane ! Drury Lane ! 
 
 They shout and they bellow again and again. 
 All, all in vain ! 
 Water turns steam ; 
 Each blazing beam 
 Hisses defiance to the eddying spout. 
 It seems but too plain that nothing can put it out ! 
 Drury Lane ! Drury Lane ! 
 See, Drury Lane expires ! 
 
 Pent in by smoke-dried beams, twelve moons or more, 
 
 Shorn of his ray, 
 
 Surya in durance lay : 
 
 The workmen heard him shout. 
 
 But thought it would not pay 
 
 To dig him out. 
 
 When lo ! terrific Yamen, lord of hell, 
 
 Solemn as lead, 
 
 Judge of the dead, 
 
 Sworn foe to witticism, 
 
 By men called criticism. 
 
 Came passing by that way : 
 
 " Rise ! " cried the fiend, " behold a sight of gladness t 
 
 Behold the rival theatre, 
 
 I've set O.P. at her. 
 
 Who, like a bull-dog bold, 
 
 Growls and fastens on his hold ; 
 
 The many-headed rabble roar in madness : 
 
 Thy rival staggers ; come and spy her 
 Dfeep in the mud as thou art in the mire." 
 
 So saying, in his arms he caught the beaming one, 
 
 And crossing Russell Street, 
 
 He placed him on his feet,' 
 
 'Neath Covent Garden dome. Sudden a sound 
 
 As of the bricklayers of Babel rose : 
 
 Horns, rattles, drums, tin trumpets, sheets of copper, 
 
liEJECTED ADDRESSES. 245 
 
 Punches and slaps, thwacks of all sorts and sizes, 
 From the knobb'd bludgeon to the taper switch, 
 Ran echoing round the'walls ; paper placards 
 Blotted the lamps, boots browh with mud the benches : 
 A sea of heads roU'd roaring in the pit ; 
 On paper wings O.P.'s 
 Reclin'd in lettered ease ; , 
 
 , While shout and scoff, 
 
 " Ya ! ya ! off ! off ! " 
 Like thunderbolt on Surya's ear-drum fell, ' 
 
 ' And seem'd to paint 
 
 The savage oddities of Saint 
 Bartholomew in hell. 
 
 Tears dimm'd the god of light ; 
 
 " Bear me back, Yamen, from this hideous sight, 
 
 Bear me back; Yamen, I grow sick, 
 
 Oh ! bury me again in bii?k ; 
 
 Shall I on New Drury tremble. 
 
 To be O.P.'d like Kemble ? 
 
 No, 
 
 Better remain by rubbish guarded, 
 
 Than thus hubbubish groan placarded ; ' 
 
 Bear me back, Yamen, bear me quick, 
 
 And bury' me again in brick." 
 
 Obedient Yamen 
 
 Answer'd, Amen, 
 
 And did 
 
 As he was bid. 
 
 There lay the.buried god, and Time 
 
 Seem'd to decree eternity of lime ; 
 
 But pity, like a dewdrbp, gently prest 
 
 Almighty Veeshnop's adamantine breast : 
 
 He, the preserver, ardent still ' 
 
 To do whate'er he says he will, 
 From South-hill urg'd his way. 
 To raise the drooping lord of day. 
 All earthly spells the busy one o'erpower'd ; 
 He treats with men of all conditions, 
 Poets and players, tradesmen, and musicians ; 
 Nay, even ventures 
 To attack the renters, 
 Old aind new : 
 A Ust he gets 
 Of claims and debts, 
 And deems nought done while aught remains to do 
 Yamen beheld and wither'd at the sight ; 
 
246 ,' REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 I Long had he aim'd the sunbeam to control, 
 
 For light was hateful to his soul : 
 
 " Go on," cried the hellish one, yellow with spite, 
 
 " Go on," cried the hellish one yellow with spleen, 
 
 " Thy toils of the morning, like Ithaca's queen, 
 
 I'll toil to undo every night." 
 
 Ye sons of song, rejoice ! 
 
 Veeshnoo has still'd the jarring elements, 
 
 The spheres hymn music ; 
 
 Again the god of day 
 
 Peeps forth with trembhng ray, 
 
 And pours at intervals a strain divine. 
 
 " I have an iron yet in the fire," cried Yamen ; 
 
 " The voUied flame rides in my breath, 
 
 My blast is elemental death ; 
 
 This hand shall tear their paper bonds to pieces ; 
 
 Ingross your deeds, assignments, leases, 
 
 My breath shall every line erase, 
 
 Soon as I blow the blaze." 
 
 The lawyers are met at the Crown and Anchor, 
 
 And Yamen's visage grows blanker and blanker, 
 
 The lawyers are met at the Anchor and Crown, 
 
 And Yamen's cheek is a russety brown, 
 
 Veshnoo, now thy work proceeds ; 
 
 The solicitor reads. 
 
 And, merit of merit ! 
 
 Red wax and green ferret, 
 
 Are fix'd at the foot of the deeds ! 
 
 Yamen beheld and sliiver'd ; 
 
 His finger and thumb were cramp'd ; 
 
 His ear by the flea in't was bitten. 
 
 When he saw by the lawyer's clerk written, 
 
 " Sealed and delivelred," 
 
 Being first duly stamped. 
 
 " Now for my turn," the demon cries, and blows 
 
 A blast of sulphur from his mouth and nose ; 
 
 Ah ! boQtless aim ! the critic fiend, 
 
 Sagacious Yamen, judge of hell. 
 
 Is judged in his turn ; 
 
 Parchment won't burn ! 
 
 His schemes of vengeance are dissolv'd in air, 
 
 Parchment won't tear ! 
 
 Is it not written in the Himakoot book 
 (That mighty Baly from Kehama took). 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 247 
 
 " Who blows on pounce 
 
 Must the Swerga renounce ? " 
 
 It is ! it is ! Yamen, thine hour is nigh ; 
 
 Like as an eagle claws an asp, 
 
 Veeshnoo has caught him in his mighty grasp, 
 
 And hurl'd him in spite of his shrieks and his squalls, 
 
 Whizzing aloft like the Temple fountain, 
 
 Three times as high as Meru mountain, 
 
 Which is 
 
 Ninety-nine times as high as St. Paul's. 
 
 Descending, he twisted like Levy the Jew, 
 
 Who a durable grave meant 
 
 To dig in the pavement 
 
 Of Monument Yard ; 
 
 To earth by the laws of attraction he flew, 
 
 And he fell, and he fell. 
 
 To the regions of hell ; 
 
 Nine centuries bounced he from cavern to rock, 
 
 And his head, as he tumbled, went nickety-nock, 
 
 Like a pebble in Carisbrooke well. 
 
 Now Veeshnoo turn'd round to a capering varlet, 
 Arra,y'd in blue and white and scarlet. 
 And cried, "Oh ! brown of slipper as of hat I 
 Lend me, harlequin, thy bat ! " 
 He seiz'd the wooden sword, and smote the earth, 
 When lo ! upstarting into birth, 
 A fabric, gorgeous to behold, 
 Outshone in elegance the old, 
 And Veeshnoo saw, and cried, " Hail, playhouse mine ! " 
 Then, bending his head, to Surya he said, 
 " Go, mount yon edifice, 
 , , And show thy steady face 
 
 In renovated pride. 
 More bright, more glorious than before ! " 
 But ah ! coy Surya still felt a twinge. 
 Still smarted from his former singe. 
 And to Veeshnoo replied. 
 In a tone rather gruff, 
 "No, thank you ! one tumble's enough !" 
 
248 REJEtTEV ADDRESSES. 
 
 DRURY'S DIRGE. 
 By Laura Matilda. 
 
 You praise our sires : but though they wrote with force, 
 Their rhymes were vicious, and their diction coarse : 
 We want their strength, agreed ; but we atone 
 For that and more, by sweetness all our own. — Giffokd. 
 
 Balmy Zephyrs lightly flitting, 
 Shade me with your azure wing ; 
 
 On Parnassus' summit sitting. 
 Aid me, Clio, while I sing. 
 
 ■ II. 
 
 Softly slept the dome of Drury, 
 
 O'er the empyreal crest, 
 When Alecto's sister-fury, 
 
 Softly slumb'ring sunk to rest. 
 
 III. 
 
 Lo ! from Lemnos limping lamely. 
 Lags the lowly Lord of Fire, 
 
 Cytherea yielding tamely, 
 To the Cyclops dark and dire. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Clouds of amber, dreams of gladness, 
 Dulcet joys and sports of youth. 
 
 Soon must yield to haughty sadness, 
 Mercy holds the veil to Truth. 
 
 See Erostratus the second. 
 Fires again Diana's fane ; 
 
 By the Fates from Orcus beckon'd. 
 Clouds envelop Dr-ury Lane. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Lurid smoke and frank suspicion, 
 Hand in hand reluctant dance ; 
 
 While the god fulfils his mission. 
 Chivalry, resign thy lance. 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSER, ' 249 
 
 VII. 
 
 Hark ! the engines blandly thunder, 
 
 Fleecy clouds disheveU'd lie, 
 And the firemen, mute with wonder, 
 
 On the son of Saturn cry. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 ^ee the bird of Ammon sailing, 
 
 Perches on the engine's peak. 
 And the Eagle firemen hailing, 
 
 Soothes them with its bickering beak. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Juno saw, and mad with malice, 
 
 Lost the prize that Paris gave ; 
 Jealousy's ensanguin'd chalice, 
 
 Mantling pours the orient wave. 
 
 Pan beheld Patroclus dying, 
 
 Nox to Niobe was turn'd ; 
 From Busiris Bacchus flying, 
 
 Saw his Semele inum'd. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Thus fell Drury's lofty glory, 
 
 Levell'd with the shuddering stones, 
 
 Mars with tresses black and gory, 
 Drinks the dew of pearly groans. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Hark ! what soft Eolian numbers. 
 Gem the blushes of the mom ; 
 
 Break, Amphion, break your slumbers, 
 Nat ire's ringlets deck the thorn. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Ha ! I hear the strain erratic, 
 Dimly glance from pole to pole, 
 
 Raptures sweet and dreams ecstatic 
 Fire my everlasting Soul. 
 
 xrv. 
 
 Where is Cupid's crimson motion ? 
 
 Billowy ecstasy of woe. 
 Bear me straight, meandering ocean, 
 
 Where the stagnant torrents flow. 
 
2S0 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Blood in every vein is gushing, 
 Vixen vengeance lulls my heart, 
 
 See, the Gorgon gang .is rushing ! 
 Never, never let us part. " 
 
 A TALE OF DRURY LANE. 
 'by W. S. 
 
 Thus he went on, stringing one extravagance upon another, in the style 
 his books of chivalry had taught him, and imitHting as near as he could 
 their very phrase. — Don Quixote. 
 
 To be spoken by Mr. Kemele in a Suit of the Black Princes 
 Armour, borrowed from the Tower. 
 
 Survey this shield all bossy bright ; 
 
 These cuisses twain behold ; 
 
 Look on my form in armour dighf 
 
 Of steel inlaid with gold. 
 
 My knees are stiff in iron buckles. 
 
 Stiff spikes of steel protect my knuckles. ' ' 
 
 These once belong'd to sable prince, 
 
 Who never did in battle wince ; 
 
 With valour tart as pungent quince, 
 
 He slew the vaunting Gaul : 
 Rest there awhile, my bearded lance. 
 While from green curtain I advance 
 To yon footlights, no trivial dance, 
 And tell the town what sad mischance 
 
 DidDrury Lane befall. 
 
 trbe IRigbt. 
 
 On fair Augusta's towers and trees 
 Flitted the silent midnight breeze. 
 Curling the foliage as it past. 
 Which from the moon-tipp'd plumage cast 
 A spangled light like dancing spray. 
 Then reassumed its still array : 
 Whenas night's lamp unclouded hung, 
 And down its full effulgence flung, 
 It shed such soft and balmy power, 
 That cot and castle, hall and bower. 
 And spire and dome, and turret height, 
 Appear'd to slumber in the light. 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 251 
 
 From Henry's chapel, Rufus' hall, ; 
 
 To Savoy, Temple, and St. Paul, 
 
 From Knightsbridge, Pancras, Camden Town, 
 
 To Redriff, Shadwell, Horsleydown, 
 
 No voice was heard, no eye unclosed, 
 
 But all in deepest sleep reposed; 
 
 They might have thought, who gazed around 
 
 Amid a silence so profound. 
 
 It made the senses thrill, 
 That 'twas no place inhabited. 
 But some vast city of the dead, 
 
 All was so hush'd ahd still. 
 
 Zlbe Burning. 
 
 As Chaos which, by heavenly doom, 
 Had slept in everlasting gloom, 
 Started with terror and surprise. 
 When light first flash'd upon her eyes ; 
 So London's sons in night-cap woke, 
 
 In bed-gown woke her dames, 
 For shouts were heard 'mid fire and smoke, 
 A.nd twice ten hundred voices spoke, 
 
 " The Playhouse is in flames." 
 And lo ! where Catherine Street extends, 
 A fiery tale its lustre lends 
 
 To every window-pane ; 
 Blushes each spout in Martlet Court, 
 And Barbican, moth-eaten fort, 
 And Govent Garden kennels sport, 
 
 A bright ensanguin'd drain ; 
 Meux's new brewhouse shows the light, > 
 Rowland, Hill's chapel, and the height 
 
 Where patent shot they sell : 
 The Tennis Court, so fair and tall, 
 Partakes the ray, with Surgeons' Hall, 
 The ticket porter's house of call. 
 Old Bedlam, close by London Wall, 
 Wright's shrimp and oyster shop withal,' 
 
 And Richardson's Hotel. 
 
 Nor these alone, but far and wide 
 Aciross the Thames's gleaming tide. 
 To distant fields the blaze was borne, 
 And daisy white and hoary thorn 
 In borrow'd lustre seem'd to sham 
 The rose or red sweet Wil-li-am. 
 
5S2 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 To thpse who on the hills around 
 
 Beheld the flames from Drury's mound, 
 As from a lofty altar rise ; 
 
 It seem'd that nations did conspire, 
 
 To offer to the god of fire 
 Some vast stupendous sacrifice ! 
 The summon'd firemen woke at call, 
 And hied them- to their stations all. 
 Starting from short and broken snooze, 
 Each sought his. porid'rous hobnail'd shoes. 
 But first his worsted hosen plied, 
 Plush breeches next in crimson dyed, 
 
 His nether bulk embraced ; 
 Then jacket thick of red or blue, 
 Whose massy shoulder gave to View 
 The badge of eich respective crew, 
 
 In tin or copper traced. ' 
 The engines thunder'd thro' the street,' 
 Fire-hook, pipe, bucket, all complete, 
 And torches glared, and clattering feet 
 Along the pavement paced. 
 
 And one, the leader of theband. 
 From Charing Cross along the Strand, 
 Like stag by beagles hunted hard. 
 Ran till he stopp'd at Vin'gar Vaiid. 
 The burning badge his shoulder bore, 
 The belt and oilskin hat he wore, 
 The cane he had his men to bang,' 
 Show'd foreman of the British gang. 
 His name was Higginbottom ; now 
 'Tis meet that I should tell you hew 
 
 The others came in view : 
 The Hand-in^Hand the race begun. 
 Then came the Phoenix and the Sun, 
 Th' Exchange, where old insurers run, 
 
 The Eagle, where the new ; 
 With these came Rumford, Bumford, Cole, 
 Robins from Hpckley-in-the-Hole, 
 Lawion and Dawson, cheek by jowl, 
 
 Crump from St. Giles's Pound : 
 Whitford and Mitford join'd the train, ' 
 Huggins and Muggins from Chick Lane, 
 And Clutterbuck, who got a sprain 
 
 Before the plug was found. 
 Hobson and Jobson did not sleep, , 
 But ah ! no trophy could they reap, 
 For both were in the Donjon Keep 
 
 Of Bridewell's gloomy' mound ! 
 
kE^ECTEb ADDRESSES. S53 
 
 E'en HigginbottOHi now was posed, , 
 For sadder scene was ne'er disclosed ; 
 Without, within, in hideous show, 
 Devouring flames resistless glow, 
 And blazing rafters downward go, 
 And nSver halloo " heads below ! " 
 
 Nor notice give at all : 
 The firemen, terrified, are slow 
 To bid the punjping torrent flow, 
 
 For fear the roof should fall. 
 Back, Robins, back ! Crulnp, stand aloof ! 
 Whitford, keep near the walls ! 
 Huggins, regard your own behoof, 
 For lo ! the blazing rocking roof 
 DoTjvn, down in thunder falls ! 
 
 An awflil pause succeeds the stroke, 
 . And o'er the. ruins volumed smoke, 
 Rolling around its pitchy shroud, 
 Conceal'd them from th' astonish'd crowd. 
 At length the mist awhile was clear'd, 
 When lo ! amid the wreck uprear'd, 
 Gradual a moving head appear'd, 
 
 'And Eagle firemen kinew : 
 'Twas Joseph Muggins, name revered, 
 
 The foreman of their crew. 
 Loud shouted all in signs of woe, 
 " A Muggins to the rescue, ho ! " 
 
 And po'ur'd the hissing tide : 
 Meanwhile the Muggins fought amain. 
 And strove and struggled ajl in vain. 
 For rallying but to fall again. 
 
 He totter'd, sunk, and died ! 
 
 Did none attempt, before he fell, 
 To succour one they loved so well .^ 
 Yes, Higginbottom did aspire 
 (His fireman's soul was all on fire) 
 
 His brother chief to save ; 
 But ah ! his reckless generous ire 
 
 Served but to share his grave ! 
 'Mid blazing beams and scalding streams, 
 Thro' fire and smoke he dauntless broke, 
 
 Where Muggins broke before. 
 But sulphury stench and boiling drench, 
 Destroying sight, o'erwhelm'd him quite, 
 
 He sunk to rise no more. 
 
254 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Still o'er his head, while fate he braved, 
 
 His whizzing water;pipe he waved ; 
 
 " Whitford and Mitford, ply your pumps, 
 
 You, Clutterbuck, come, stir your stumps, 
 
 Why are you in such doleful dumps ? 
 
 A fireman and afraid of bumps ! 
 
 What are they fear'd on ? fools ! 'od rot 'em ! " 
 
 Were the last words of Higginbottom. 
 
 tlbe IRevipal. 
 
 Peace to his soul ! new prospects bloom, 
 And toil rebuilds what fires consume ! 
 Eat we and drink we, be our ditty, 
 " Joy to the managing committee." 
 Eat we and drink we, join to rum 
 Roast beef and pudding of the plum ; 
 Forth from thy nook, John Horner, come, 
 With bread of ginger brown thy thumb. 
 
 For this is DrUry's gay day : 
 Roll, roll thy hoop, and twirl thy tops, 
 And buy, to glad thy smiling chops. 
 Crisp parliament with lollipops. 
 
 And fingers of the lady. 
 
 Didst mark, how toil'd the busy train 
 From morn to eve, till Drury Lane 
 Leap'd like a roebuck from the plain.? 
 Ropes rose and sunk, and rose again, 
 
 And nimble workmen trod ; 
 To realize bold Wyatt's plan 
 Rush'd many a howling Irishman, 
 Loud clattered many a porter can. 
 And many a ragamuffin clan, 
 
 With trowel and with hod. 
 
 Drury revives ! her rounded pate 
 Is blue, is heavenly blue with slate; 
 She '' wings the midway air " elate, 
 
 As magpie, crow, or chough ; 
 White paint her modish visage smears, 
 Yellow and pointed are her ears, 
 No pendant portico appears 
 Dangling beneath, for Whitbread's shears 
 
 Have cut the bauble off. 
 
 Yes, she exalts her stately head, 
 And, but that solid bulk outspread, 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 255 
 
 Opposed you on your onward tread, 
 
 And posts and pillars warranted 
 
 That all was true that Wyatt said, 
 
 You might have deem'd her walls so thick, 
 
 Were not composed of stone or brick, 
 
 But all a phantom, all a trick, 
 
 Of brain disturbed and fancy-sick, 
 
 So high she soars, so vast, so quick. 
 
 JOHNSON'S GHOST. 
 
 Ghost of Dr. Johnson rises from trap-door P.S. and Ghost of 
 BOSWELL fro7n trap-door O.P. The latter bows respect- 
 fully to the House, and obsequiously to the Doctor's Ghost, 
 and retires. 
 
 Doctor's Ghost loquitur. 
 
 That which was organized by the moral ability of one, has 
 been executed by the physical efforts of many, and Drury Lane 
 Theatre is now complete. Of that part behind the curtain, 
 which has not yet been destined to glow beneath the brush of 
 the varnrsher, or vibrate to the hammer of the carpenter, little is 
 thought by the public, and little need be said by the committee. 
 Truth, however, is not to be sacrificed for the accommodation of 
 either, and he who should pronounce that our edifice has 
 received its final embellishment, would be disseminating false- 
 hood without incurring favour, and risking the disgrace of detec- 
 tion without participating the advantage of success. 
 
 Professions lavishly effused and parsimoniously verified are 
 alike inconsistent with the precepts of innate rectitude and the 
 practice of external policy : let it not then be conjectured, that 
 because we are unassuming, we are imbecile ; that forbearance 
 is any indication of despondency, or humility of demerit. He 
 that is the most assured of success will make the fewest appeals 
 to favour, and where nothing is claimed that is undue, nothing 
 that is due will be withheld. A swelling opening is too often 
 succeeded by an insignificant conclusion. Parturient mountains 
 have ere now produced muscipular abortions, and the auditor 
 who compares incipient grandeur with final vulgarity, is re- 
 minded of the pious hawkers of Constantinople, who solemnly 
 perambulate her streets, exclaiming, " In the name of the 
 Prophet— figs ! " 
 
 Of many who think themselves wise, and of some who are 
 thought wise by others, the exertions are directed to the revival 
 of mouldering and obscure dramas ; to endeavours to exalt that 
 which is now rare only because it was always worthless, and 
 
256, REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 whose deterioration, while it condemned it to living obscurity, by 
 a strange obhquity of moral perception constitutes its title to 
 posthumous renown. To enabody the flying dolours of folly,, to 
 arrest evanescence, to give to bubbles the globular consistency 
 as well as form, to exhibit on the stage &e piebald denizen of 
 the stable, and the half-reasoning parent of combs, to display 
 the brisk locomotion of Columbine, or the tortuous attitudinizing 
 of Punch ; these are the occupations of others, whose ambition, 
 limited to the applause of unintellectual fatuity, is too innocuous 
 for the application of satire, and too humble for the incitement 
 of jealousy. 
 
 Our refectory will be found to contain every species of fruit, 
 from the cooling nectarine and luscious peach, to the puny pippin 
 and the noxious nut. There indolence may repose, and inebriety 
 I'evel ; and the spruce apprentice, rushing in at second a,ccount, 
 may there chatter with impunity, debarred by a l^arrier of bridk 
 and mortar from marring that scenic interest in others, which 
 nature and education have disqualified him from comprehending 
 himself. 
 
 Permanent stage-doors we have none. That which is per- 
 manent cannot be removed, for if removed it soon ceases to be 
 permanent. What stationary absurdity can vie with that ligneous 
 barricado, which, decorated with frappant and tintinabul*it 
 appendages, now serves, as the entrance of the lowly cottagCj and 
 now as the exit of a lady's bed-chamber ; at one time insinuating 
 plastic Harlequin into a butcher's shop, and at another, yawning 
 as the flood-gate to precipitate the Cyprians of St. Giles's into 
 the embraces of Macheath. To elude this glaring absuirdity, to 
 give to each respective mansion the door which the carpenter 
 would doubtless have given, we vary our portal with the varying 
 scene, passing from deal to mahogany, and from mahogany to 
 oak, as the opposite claims of cottage, palace, or castle may 
 appear to require. 
 
 Amid the general hum of gratulation which flatters us in front, 
 it is fit that some regard should be paid to the murmurs of 
 despondence that assail us in the rear. They, as I have else- 
 where expressed it, " who live to please," should not have their 
 own pleasures entirely overlooked. The children of Thespis are 
 general in their censures of the architect in having placed the 
 locality of exit at such a distance from the oily irradiators which 
 now dazzle the eyes of him who addresses you. I am, cries the 
 Queen of Terrors, robbed of my fair proportions. When the 
 , king-kiEing Thane hints to the breathless auditory the murders 
 Vie means to perpetrate in the castle, of Macduff " ere his purpose 
 cool," so vast is the interval he has to travel' before he can escape 
 from the stage, that his purpose has even time to freeze. Your 
 condition, cries the Muse of Smiles, is hard, but it is cygnet's 
 down in comparison with mine. The peerless peer of capers 
 
REJ'ECTED ADDRESSES. 257 
 
 and congees has laid it down as a rule,, that the best good thing 
 uttered by the morning visitor should cianduct him rapidly to the 
 doorwdy, la^t impressions vieing in durability with first. But 
 when on this boarded elongatidn it falls to my lot to say a good 
 thing, to ejaculate " keep moving," orto chaunt " hie hoc horum 
 genetivo," many are the moments that must elapse ere t can 
 hide myself from public vision in the recesses of O.P. or P.S. 
 
 To objections like these, captiously ' urged and querulously 
 maintained, it is time that equity should conclusively reply. 
 Deviation from scenic prppriety- has only to vituperate itsdf for 
 the consequences it generates. Let the actor consider the line 
 'Of exit as that Une beyond which he should not soar in quest of 
 spurious applause : let him reflect that in proportion as he ad- 
 vances to the lamps, he recedes from nature ; that the truncheon 
 of Hotspur acquires no additional charm from encountering the 
 cheek of beauty in the stage-box, and that the bravura of Man- 
 dane may produce effect, although the throat of her who warbles 
 it should not overhang the orchestra. The Jove of the modern 
 critical Olympus, Lord Mayor of the theatric sky, has, ex 
 cathedrA, asserted that a natural actor looks upon the audience 
 part of the theatre as the third side of the chamber he inhabits. 
 Surely of the third wall thus fancifully erected, our actors should 
 by ridicule or reason be withheld from knocking their heads 
 against the stucco. 
 
 Time forcibly reminds me that all things which have a limit 
 must be brought to a conclusion. Let me, ere that conclusion 
 arrives, recall to your recollection that the pillars which rise on 
 either side of me, blooming in varied antiquity, like two massy 
 evergreens, had yet slumbered in their native quarry, but for the 
 ardent exertions of the iiidividual who called them into life : to 
 his never-slumbering talents you are indebted for whatever 
 pleasure this haunt of the Muses is calculated to afford. If, in 
 defiance of chaotic malevolence, the destroyer of the temple of 
 Diana yet survives in the name of Erostratus, surely we may 
 confidently predict, that the rebuilder of the temple of Apollo 
 will stand recorded to distant posterity in that of — Samuel 
 Whitbread. 
 
258 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 I 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL INCENDIARY. 
 
 By the Hon. W.' S. 
 
 Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida silvas.— ViRGlL. 
 
 Scene draws, and discovers a Lady asleep on a couch. 
 Enter Philanper. 
 
 ^ Philander. 
 
 I. 
 
 Sobriety, cease to be sober, 
 
 Cease, Labour, to dig and to delve. 
 And hail to (;his tenth of October, 
 
 One thousand eight hundred and twelve. 
 Hah ! whom do my peepers remark .? 
 
 'Tis Hebe with Jupiter's jug ; 
 Oh no, 'tis the pride of the Park, 
 
 Fair Lady Elizabeth Mugg. 
 
 Why, beautiful nymph, do you close 
 
 The curtain that fringes your eye ? 
 Why veil in the clouds of repose 
 
 The sun that should brighten our sky ? 
 Perhaps jealous Venus has oil'd 
 
 Thy hair witli some opiate drug. 
 Not choosing her charms should be foil'd 
 
 By Lady Elizabeth Mugg. 
 
 III. 
 
 But ah ! why awaken the blaze 
 
 The bright burning-glasses contain. 
 Whose lens with concentrated rays 
 
 Proved fatal to old Drury Lane. 
 'Twas all accidental they cry, — 
 
 Away with the flimsy humbug ! 
 'Twas fired by a flash Jrom the eye 
 
 Of Lady Elizabeth Mugg. 
 
 Thy glance can in us raise a flame, 
 Then why should old Drury be free ? 
 
 Our doom and its doom are the same, 
 Both subject to beauty's decree. 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 259 
 
 No candles the workmen consum'd, 
 
 When deep in the ruins they dug, 
 Thy flash still their progress iUum'd, 
 
 Sweet Lady Elizabeth Mugg. 
 
 V. 
 
 Thy face a rich fireplace displays ; 
 
 The mantel-piece marble — thy brows ; 
 Thine eyes are the bright beaming blaze, 
 
 Thy bib which no trespass allows, 
 The. fender's tall barrier marks ; 
 
 Thy tippet's the fire-quelling rug, 
 Which serves to extinguish the sparks 
 
 Of Lady Elizabeth Mugg. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Countess a lily appears, 
 
 Whose tresses the dewdrops emboss ; 
 The Marchioness blooming in years, 
 
 A rosebud envelop'd in moss ; 
 But thou art the sweet passion-flower. 
 
 For who would not slavery hug. 
 To pass but one exquisite hour 
 
 In the arms of Elizabeth Mugg ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 When at Court, or some dowager's rout. 
 
 Her diamond aigrette meets our view, 
 She looks like a glow-worm dress'd out, 
 
 Or tulips bespangled with dew. 
 Her two lips denied to man's suit, 
 
 Are shared with her favourite Pug ; 
 What lord would not change with the brute. 
 
 To live with Elizabeth Mugg ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Could the stage be a large vis-^-ms, 
 
 Reserv'd for the polished and great, 
 Where each happy lover might see 
 
 The nymph he adores tite-d,-Ute; 
 No longer I'd gaze on the ground. 
 
 And the load of despondency lug, 
 For I'd book myself all the year round, 
 
 To ride with the sweet Lady Mugg. 
 
 I 2 
 
,26o , REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Yes, she in herself is a host, 
 
 And if she were here all ilone, 
 Our house might nocturnally boast 
 
 A bumper pf fashion aiid ton. 
 Again should it burst in a blaze. 
 
 In vain would they ply Gongreve's plug, 
 Fo;' nought could extinguish the rays 
 
 From the glance of divine Lady Mugg. 
 
 O could I as Harlequin frisk, 
 
 And thou be my Columbine fair, 
 My wand should with one magic whisk 
 
 Transport us to Hanover Square ; 
 St. George should lend us his shrine, 
 
 The parson his shoulders might shrug, 
 But a licence should force him to join 
 
 My hand in the hand of my Mugg. 
 
 XI. , 
 
 Court-plaister the weapons should tip, 
 
 By Cupid shot down from above. 
 Which cut into spots for thy lip. 
 
 Should still barb the arrows of love. 
 The god who from others flies quick. 
 
 With us should be slow as a slug. 
 As close as a leech he should stick 
 
 To rtie and Elizabeth Mugg. 
 
 XH. 
 
 For Time would, like us, 'stead of sand, 
 
 Put filings of steel in his glass. 
 To dry up the blots of his hand. 
 
 And spangle life's page as they pass. 
 Since all flesh is grass ere 'tis hay, 
 
 O may I in clover live snug, 
 And when old Time mows me away, 
 
 Be stack'd with defunct Lady, Mugg. ' 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 261 
 
 FIRE AlSfp ALE. 
 By M'. G.- L. 
 
 Omnia transformat sese in miracula rerum. — ^Virgil. 
 
 My palate is parch'd with Pierian thirst, ' 
 
 Away to Parnassus Pm beckoned ; ' 
 
 List, warriors and dames, while my lay is rehears'd, 
 
 I sing of the singe of Miss Drury the first, 
 And the birth of Miss Drury the second. 
 
 Tht Fire King one day rather amorous felt ; 
 
 He mounted his hot copper filly ; 
 His breeches and boots were of tin, and the belt 
 Was made of cast iron, for fear it should melt 
 
 With the heat of the copper colt's belly. 
 
 Sure never wa's skin half so scalding as his ! 
 
 When an infant, 'twas equally horrid, 
 For the water when he was baptized gave a fizz, 
 And bubbled ajid simmer'd and started off, whizz I 
 
 As soon as it sprinkled his foreh.ead. 
 
 Oh ! then there was glitter and fire in each eye, 
 
 For two living coals were the symbols ; 
 His teeth were calcined, and his tongue was so dry, 
 It rattled against them as though you should try 
 
 To play the piano in thimbles. 
 
 From his nostrils a lava sulphureous flows, 
 
 Which scorches wherever it hngers, 
 A snivelling fellow he's call'd by his foes, 
 For he can't raise'his paw up to blow his red nose, 
 
 For fear it should blister his fingers. 
 
 His wig is of flames curling over his head. 
 
 Well po'wder'd with white smoking ashes ; 
 He drinks gunpowder tea, melted sugar of lead, 
 Cream of tartar, and dinei on. hot spice gingerbread, 
 Which black from the oven he gnashes. 
 
 Each fire nymph his kiss from her countenance shields, 
 
 'Twbuld soon set her cheekbone a-frying : 
 He spit in the tenter-ground near Spitalfields, 
 And the hole that it burnt and the chalk that it yields 
 Make a capital limekiln for drying. 
 
262 REJECTED ADDRESSES. - 
 
 When he open'd his mouth out there issued a blast, 
 
 (Nota bene, I do not mean swearing,) 
 But the noise that it made arid the heat that it cast, 
 I've heard it frqm those who have seen it, surpass'd 
 A shot manufactory flaring. 
 
 He blaz'd and he blaz'd as he gallop'd to siiatch 
 
 His bride, little dreaming of danger ; 
 His whip was a torch, and his spur was a match, 
 And over the horse's left eye was a patch, 
 To keep it from burning the manger. 
 
 And who is the housemaid he means to enthral 
 
 In his cinder-producing aUiance ? 
 'Tis Drury Lane Playhouse, so wide, and so tall. 
 Who, like other co'mbustible ladies, must fall, ' ' 
 
 If she cannot set sparks at defiance. 
 
 Cn his warming-pan knee-pan he clattering rolPd, 
 
 And the housemaid his hand would have taken, 
 But his hand, hke his passion, was too hot to hold, 
 And she soon let it go, but her new ring of gold ' 
 
 All melted, like butter or bacon ! 
 
 Oh ! then she look'd sour, and indeed well ihe might, 
 
 For Vinegar Yard was before her, 
 But, spite of her shrieks, the ignipotent knight, 
 Enrobing the maid in a flame of gas-light, 
 
 To the skies in a sky-rocket bore her. 
 
 Look ! look ! 'tis the Ale King, so stately and starch, 
 
 Whose votaries scorn to be sober ; 
 He pops from his vat, like a cedar or larch : 
 Brown stout is his doublet, he hops in his march, 
 
 And froths at the mouth in October. 
 
 His spear is a spigot, his shield is a bung ; 
 
 He taps where, the housemaid no more is, 
 When lo ! at his magical bidding, upspriing 
 A second Miss Drury, tall, tidy, and young, 
 
 And sported in loco sororis. 
 
 Back, lurid in air, for a second regale, 
 
 The Cinder King, hot with desire, 
 To Brydges Street hied ; but the Monarch of Ale, 
 With uplifted spigot and faucet, and pail, 
 
 Thus chided the Monarch of Fire : 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 263 
 
 "Vile tyrant, beware of the ferment I brew, 
 
 I rule the roast here, dash the wig o' me ! 
 If, spite of your marriage with Old Drury, you 
 Come here wjth your tinderbox, courting the New, 
 I'll have you indicted for bigamy ! " 
 
 PLAYHOUSE MUSINGS. 
 By S. T. C. 
 
 Ille velitt- fidis arcana sodalibus olim 
 
 Credebat libris ; neque si male cesserat, usquam 
 
 Decurrens alio, nequa si bene. — HoRAT. 
 
 My pensive public, wherefore look you sad ? 
 I had a grandmother, she kept a donkey 
 To carry to the mart her crockery ware, 
 And when that donkey look'd me in the face, 
 His face was sad ! and you are sad, my public ! 
 
 Joy should be yours : this tenth day of October 
 Again, assembles us in Drury Lane. 
 Long wept my eye to see the timber planks 
 That hid our ruins ; many a day I cried, 
 " Ah me ! I fear they never will rebuild it ! " 
 Till on one eve, one joyful Monday eve, 
 As along Charles Street I prepared to walk, 
 Just at the corner, by the pastry-cook's, 
 I heard a trowel tick against a brick. 
 I look'd me up, and straight a parapet 
 Uprose at least seven inches o'er the planks. 
 " Joy to thee, Drury ! " tomyself I said : 
 " He of Blackfriars Road who hymn'd thy downfall 
 In loud hosannahs, and who prophesied 
 That flames, like those from prostrate Solyma, 
 Would scorch the hand that ventured to rebuild thee, 
 Has proved a lying prophet." From that hour, 
 As leisure offer'd,' close to Mr. Spring's 
 Box-offipe door, I've stood and eyed the builders. 
 They had a, plan to render less their labours ; 
 Workmen in elder times would mount a ladder 
 With hodded heads, but these stretch'd forth a pole 
 From the wall's pinnacle, they placed a pulley 
 Athwart the pole, a rope athwart the pulley ; 
 To this a basket dangled ; mortar and bricks 
 Thus freighted, swung securely to the top, 
 And in the empty basket workmen twain 
 Precipitate, unhurt, accosted earth. 
 
264 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Oh! 'twas a goodly sound to hear the people ' ' 
 
 Who watch'd the work, express their various thoughts ! 
 While some believ'd it iie'ver wduld be finish'd, 
 Some on the contrary believ'd it would. 
 
 I've heard our front that faces Drury Lane 
 Much criticis'd ; thfey say 'tis vulgar brick-work, 
 A mimic manufactory of floor-cloths 
 One of the morning papers wish'd that front 
 Cemented like the front in Brydges Street ; '. 
 
 As it now looks they call it Wyatt's Mermaid, 
 A handsome woman with a fish's tail. 
 
 White is the steeple of St. Bride's in Fleet Street, 
 The Albion (as its name denotes) is white ; 
 Morgan and Saunders' shop for chairs and tables 
 Gleams like a snowball in the setting^ajg ; 
 White is Whitehall. But not St. Bride's in Fleet Street, 
 The spotless Albion, Morgan, no, nor Saunders, 
 ' Nor white Whitehall is white as Drury's face. 
 
 Oh, Mr. Whitbread ! fie upon you, sir ! , _, 
 
 I ithink you should have, built a colonnade ; 
 When tender Beauty, looking for her coach. 
 Protrudes her gloveless hand, perceives the shower, 
 And draws the tippet closer round her throat. 
 Perchance her coach stands half a dozen off, 
 And, ere she mounts the step, the oozing mud 
 Soaks thro' her pale kid slipper. On the morrow 
 She coughs at breakfast, and her gruff papa - 
 Cries, '' There you go ! this comes of playhouses ! " 
 To build no portico is penny wise : 
 Heaven grant it prove not in the end pound foolish ! 
 
 Hail to thee, Drury ! Queen of Theatres ! 
 What is the Regency in Tottenham Street, 
 The Royal Amphitheatre of Arts, 
 Astley's Olympic, or the Sans Pareil, 
 Compar'd with thee ? Yet when I view thee push'd 
 Back from the narrow street that christen'd thee, 
 I know not why they call thee Drury Lane. 
 
 Amid the freaks that modem fashion sanctions, 
 It grieves me much to see hve animals 
 Brought on the stage. Grimaldi has his rabbit, 
 Laurent his cat, and Bradbury his pig ; 
 Fie on such tricks ! Johnson, the n^achiriist 
 Of former Drury, imitated hfe 
 Quite to the life. The elephant in Blue Beard, 
 
REJECTED AD'DRESSES. 265 
 
 Stuff,d by his hai^d, wound round his lithe proboscis, 
 
 As spruce as he who roar'd in Padmanaba. 
 
 Nought born on earth should die. On hackney stands 
 
 I Reverence the coachman who cries " Gee," 
 
 And spares the lash. When I behold a spider 
 
 Prey on a fly, a magpie on a worm, 
 
 Or view a butcher with horn-handle knife 
 
 Slaughter a tender lamb as dead as mutton, 
 
 Indeed, indeed, I'm very, very, sick ! ' {Exit hastily. 
 
 ; DRURY LANE HUSTINGS. 
 
 A NEW HALFPENNY BALLAD. 
 By a Pic-NIC Poet. 
 
 This is the very age of promise. To promise is most cpurtly and fashion- 
 able. Performance is a Itind of will or testament, which argues a great 
 sickness in his judgment that makes it.^ — TiMON of Athens. 
 
 To be sung by Mr. Johnstone in the character of 
 
 LOONEY M'TWbtTER. 
 
 " Mr. Jack, your address," says the prompter to me. 
 So I gave him my card — " No, that'a'nt it," says he, 
 '"Tis your public address." " Oh !" says I, "never fear, 
 If address you are bother'd for, only look here." 
 
 ' {Puts an hat ajff^ectedly. 
 
 Tol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 II. 
 
 With Drurys for sartain we'll never haye done. 
 We've built "P another, and yet there's but one ; 
 The old one was best, yet I'd say, if I durst. 
 The new one is better— the last is the first. . 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 These pillars are called by a Frenchified word, 
 A something that's jumbled of antique and verd. 
 The boxes may show us some verdant antiques, 
 Some bold harridans who beplaster their chfeeks. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
266 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Gnly look how high Tragedy, Gomedy,' stick, " 
 Lest their rivals, the horses, should give them a kick ! 
 If you will not descend when our authors beseech ye, 
 You'll stop there for life, for I'm sure they can't reach ye. 
 
 Tolderol, &c. 
 
 Each one shilling god within reach of a nod is. 
 And plain are the charms of each gallery goddess, 
 You, brandy-faced Moll, don't be looking askew, 
 When I talked of a goddess I didn't mean you. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c 
 
 VI. 
 
 Our stage ,is so prettily fashion'd for viewing. 
 
 The whole house can see what the whole house is doing. 
 
 'Tis just like the hustings, we kick up a bother, 
 
 But saying is one thing and doing's another. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c». 
 
 vli. 
 
 We've many new houses, and some of them rum ones, 
 But the newest of all is the new House of Commons, 
 'Tis a rickety sort of a bantling I'm told. 
 It will die of old age when it^s seven years old. 
 
 Tol de ral, &c. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 As I don't know on whom the election will fall,v 
 I move in return for returning them all ; 
 But for fear Mr. Speaker my meaning should miss, 
 The house that I wish 'em to sit in is this. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c, 
 
 IX. 
 
 Let us cheer our great Commoner, but for whose aid 
 We all should have gone with short commons to bed. 
 And since he has saved all the fat from the fire, 
 I move that the House be call'd Whitbread's Entire. 
 
 . Tol de rol, &c. 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 267 
 
 ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS. 
 Translated by Dr. B. 
 
 Lege, Dick, Lege !— Joseph Andrews. 
 
 To be redte^d by the Translator's Son. 
 
 P<SNKYy fond dupes ! who smit with sacred lore, 
 Mosaic dreams in Genesis explore, 
 Dote with Copernicus, or darkling stray 
 \Vith Newton, Ptolemy, or Tycho Brahe : 
 To you I sing not, for I sing of truth, 
 Primseval systems, and creation's youth ; 
 Such as of old, with magic wisdom fraught, 
 Inspired Lucretius to the Latians taught. 
 
 I ^ing how casual bricks, in airy climb,, 
 Encounter'd casual horse-hair, casual lime ; 
 How rafters borne through wondering clouds elate, 
 Kiss'd in their slope blue elemental slate, 
 Clasp'd solid beams in chance-directed fury, 
 And gave to birth our renovfited Di-ury. 
 
 Thee, son of Jove, whose sceptre was confessed, ' 
 Where fair CEolia springs from Tethys' breast : 
 Thence on Olympus 'mid Celestials placed, 
 God of the winds, and Ether's boundless waste, 
 Thee I invoke ! Oh, ^uff my bold design, 
 Prompt the bright thought, and swell the harmonious line ; 
 Uphold my pinions, and my verse inspire 
 With Winsor's patent gas, or wind of fire. 
 In whose pbre blaze thy embryo form enroll'd. 
 The dark enlightens, and enchafes the cold. 
 
 But while I court thy gifts, be mine to shun 
 The deprecated prize Ulysses won ; 
 Who sailing homeward from thy breezy shore, 
 The prison'd winds in skins of parchment bore :— 
 Speeds the fleet bark, till o'er the billowy green 
 The azure heights of Ithaca are seen ; 
 But while with favouring gales her way she wins. 
 His curious comrades ope the mystic skins : 
 When lo ! the rescued winds, with boisterous sweep, 
 Roar to the clouds, and lash the rocking deep ; 
 Heaves the smote vessel in the howling blast,. 
 Splits the stretch'd sail, and cracks the tottering mast. 
 
268 ' ' REyiiCTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Launch'd on a plank, the buoyant hero rides 
 ' Where ebon Afric stems the sable tides, 
 While his duck'd comrades o'er the ocean fly, 
 And sleep not in the whole skins they untie. 
 
 I 
 
 So when to ra,ise the wind some lawyer tries, 
 Mysterious skins of parchment meet our eyes. 
 On speed the smiling suit, " Pleas of our Lord ' 
 The King " shine jetty on the wide record : 
 Nods the prunella'd bar, attornies smile, 
 And siren jurors flatter to beguile ; 
 Till stript— nonsuited— he is doom'd to toss 
 In legal ship-iyreck, and redeemless loss ; 
 Lucky, if, like Ulysses, he can keep 
 His head above the waters cf the deep. 
 
 ^ohan monarch ! Emperor of Puffs ! 
 We modern sailors dread not thy rebuffs ; 
 See to thy golden shore promiscuous come 
 Quacks for the lame, the blind, the deaf, the dumb ; 
 Fools are their bankers — a prolific line. 
 And every mortal malady's a mine. i ;. 
 
 Each sly Sangrado, with his poisonous pill, 
 Flies to the printer's devil with his bill, 
 Whose Midas touch can gild his asses' ears, 
 And load a knave with folly's rich arrears. ' > 
 And lo ! a second miracle is thine, 
 For sloe-juiced water stands transform'd to wine. 
 Where Day and Martin's patent blacking roU'd, 
 Burst from the vase Pactolian streams of gold ; 
 Laugh the sly wizards glorying in their stealth, 
 Quit the black art, and loll in lazy wealth. 
 See Britain's Algerines, the Lottery fry, 
 Win annual tribute by the annual lie. 
 Aided by thee — but whither do I stray ? 
 Court, city, borough, own thy sovereign sway : 
 An age of puffs the age of gold succeeds, 
 And windy bubbles are the spa,wn it breeds. 
 
 If such thy power, O hear the Muse's prayer ! 
 Swell thy loud lungs, and wave thy wings of air ; 
 Spread, viewless giant, all thy arms of mist 
 Like windmill sails to bring the poet grist; 
 As erst thy roaring son with eddying gale 
 Whirl'd Orithyia from her native vale— 
 So, while Lucretian wonders I rehearse, 
 Augusta's sons shall patronize my verse. 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 269 
 
 I sing of Atoms, whosfe creative brain, 
 With eddying impulse, built new Drury Lane; 
 Not to the labours of subservient man, 
 To no young Wyatt appertains the plan ; 
 We mortals stalk, like horses in a mill, 
 Impassive media of Atomiq vifill ; 
 1; Ye stare ! then truth's broad talisman discern — ' 
 'Tis Demonstration speaks. — Attend and learn ! 
 
 From floating elements in chaos hurl'd, 
 Self-form'd of atoms, sprang the infant world. 
 No great First Cause inspired the happy plot, 
 But all was matter, and no, matter what. 
 Atoms, attracted by some law occult,' 
 Settling in spheres, the globe was the result ; 
 Pure child of Chance, which still directs the ball, 
 As rotatory atoms rise or fall. 
 In ether launch'd, the peopled bubble floats, 
 A mass of particles and confluent tnotes,. 
 So nicely pois'd, that if one atom flings 
 Its weight away, aloft the planet springs, 
 And wings its course thro' realms of boundless space, 
 Outstripping comets in eccentric race. 
 Add but one atom more, it sinks outright 
 Down to the realms of Tartarus and night. 
 What waters melt or scorching fires consume. 
 In diiferent forms their being reassume ; 
 Hence can no change arise, except in name. 
 For weight and substance ever are the saijie. 
 
 > Thus with the flames that froiii old Drury rise. 
 Its elements primeval sought the skies, ' 
 There, pendulous to wait the happy hour. 
 When new attractions should restore their power. 
 So in this procreant theatre elate. 
 Echoes unborn their future life await ; 
 Here embryo sounds in ether lie conceal'd, , 
 
 Like words in northern atmosphere congeal'd. 
 Here many a foetus laugh and half encore " , 
 
 Clings to the roof, or creeps along the floor. 
 By puffs concipient some in ether flit. 
 And soar in bravos from the thundering pit ; 
 Some forth on ticket nights from tradesmen break. 
 To mar the actot they design to make; ; 
 While some this mortal life abortive miss, 
 Crush'd by a groan, or strangled by a hiss. 
 So, when " dog's-meat " re-echoes through the streets, 
 Rush syrtipathetic dogs Irom their retreats, ' 
 
270 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Beam with bright blaze their suppHcating eyes, 
 Sink their hind-iegs, ascend their joyful crips ; 
 Each, wild with hope, and maddening to prevail, 
 Points the pleased ear, and wags the expectant tail. 
 
 ' Ye fallen bricks ! in Drury's fire calcined, 
 Since jdoom'd to slumber, couch'd upon the wind, 
 Sweet was the hour, when tempted by your freaks. 
 Congenial trowels smboth'd your yellow cheeks. 
 Float dulcet serenades upon the ear, 
 Bejids every atom from its ruddy sphere, , 
 Twinkles each eye, and, peeping from its veil, 
 Marks in the adverse crowd its destined male., 
 The oblong beauties clap their hands of grit, 
 And brick-dust titterings on the breezes flit ; 
 Then down they rush in amatory race. 
 Their dusty bridegrooms eager to embrace. 
 Some choose old lovers, some decide for new, 
 But each, when fix'd, is to her station true. 
 Thus various bricks are made as tastes invite. 
 The red, the, grey, the dingy, or the white. 
 
 Perhaps some half-baked rover, frank and free, 
 To alien beauty bends the lawless knee, 
 But of unhallow'd fascinations sick, 
 Soon quits his Cyprian for his married brick ; 
 The Dido atom calls and scolds in vain, 
 No crisp .iEneas soothes the widow's pain. 
 
 So in Cheapside, what time Aurora peeps, 
 A mingled noise of dustmen, milk, and sweeps. 
 Falls on the housemaid's ear ; amaz'd she stands, 
 Then opes the door with cinder-sabled hands. 
 And " matches " calls. The dustman, bubbled flat, •> 
 Thinks 'tis for him, and doffs his fan-tail'd hat ; 
 The milkman, whom her second cries assail. 
 With sudden sink, unyokes the clinking pail ; 
 , Now louder grown, by turns she screams and weeps ; 
 Alas ! her screaming only brings the sweeps. 
 Sweeps but put out — she wants to raise a. flame, 
 And' calls for matches, but 'tis still the same. 
 Atoms and housemaids ! mark the moral true, 
 If once ye go astray, no match for you ! 
 
 As atoms in one mass united mix. 
 So bricks attraction feel for kindred bricks ; 
 Some in the cellar view, perchance, on high. 
 Fair chimney chums on beds of mortar lie ; 
 
:. \ REJECTED ADDRESSES. 371 
 
 \ \ Enamour'd of the, sympathetic clod,- 
 
 \ Leaps the red bridegroom to the labourer's hod, 
 ' \ And up the ladder bears the workman, taiight \ 
 \ To think he bears the bricks —mistaken thought ! 
 \A proof behold— if near the top they find 
 iThe nymphs or broken corner'd, or unkind, 
 Back to the bottom leaping with a bound. 
 They bear their bleeding carriers to the ground. 
 
 So legends tell, along the lofty hill 
 Paced the twin heroes, gallant Jack and Jill ; _ ' 
 On trudged the Gemini to reach the rail 
 That shields the well's top from the expectant pail. 
 When ah ! Jack falls ; and, rolling in the rear, 
 Jill feels the attraction of his kindred sphere ; 
 Head over heels begins his toppling track. 
 Throws sympathetic somersets with Jack, 
 And at the mountain's base, bobbs plump against him, 
 
 ' whack ! i ' ' 
 
 Ye living atoms, who unconscious sit, 
 Jumbled by chance in gallery, box, and pit. 
 For you no Peter opes the fabled door. 
 No churlish Charon plies the shadowy oar ; — 
 Breathe but a space, and Boreas' casual sweep 
 Shall bear your scatter'd corses o'er the deep. 
 To gorge the greedy elements, and mix 
 With water, marl,- and clay, and stones and sticks ; 
 While, charged with fancied souls, sticks, stones and clay. 
 Shall take your seats, and hiss or clap the play. , 
 
 happy age ! when convert Christians read 
 No sa.cred writings but the Pagan creed ; 
 O happy age ! when spuming, Newton's dreams, 
 ' Our poet's sons recite Lucretian themeS, 
 Abjure the idle systems of their youth. 
 And turn again to atoms and to truth. 
 O happier still ! when England's dauntless dames, 
 Awed by no chaste alarms, no latent shames. 
 The bard's fourth book unblushingly peruse. 
 And learn the rampant lessons of the stews ! 
 
 All hail, Lucretius, renovated sage ! 
 Unfold the modest mystics of thy page ; 
 Return no more to thy sepulchraV shelf. 
 But live, kind bard, — that I may live myself ! , 1 
 
' 272 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 THEATRICAL ALARM BELL. 
 
 By the Editor of the M, P. 
 
 Bounce, Jupiter, bounce!— O'Hara. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, x 
 
 As it' is now the universally-admitted, and indeed pretty- 
 gerierally-suspected aim of Mr. Whitbread and the infamous, 
 , bloodthirsty, arid, in fact, illiberal faction to which he 'belongs, to 
 burn to the ground this free and happy Protestant city, and 
 . establish himself in St. James's Palace, his fellow committee-men 
 have thought it their duty to watch the principles of a theatre . 
 built under his auspices. The information they have receivedj 
 from undoubted authority, particularly from an old fruit-woman ; 
 who had turned king's evidence, and whose name for obvious' 
 reasons we forbear to inention, though we have had it some| 
 , weeks in our possession, has induced them to introduce various' 
 reforms : not such reforms as the vile faction clamour for, mean- 
 ing thereby revolution, but such reforms as are necessary to 1 
 preserve the glorious constitution of the only free, happy, and \ 
 prosperous country now left upon the face of the earth. From 
 the valuable and authentic source above alluded to, we have 
 learnt that a sanguinary plot has been formed by some united 
 Irishmen, combined with a gang of Luddites, and a special 
 committee sent over by the Pope at the instigation ' of the 
 beastly Corsican fiend, for destroying all the loyal part of 
 the audience on the anniversary of that deeply-to-be-, 
 abhorred and highly-to-be-blamed stratagem, the guilpowder 
 plot, which falls this year on Thursday, the 5th of November.!- 
 The whole is under the direction of a delegated committee of ' 
 O. P. 's, whose treasonable exploits -at Covent Garden you all; 
 recollect, and all of whom would have been hung from the. ' 
 chandehers a* that time but for the mistaken lenity of govern-, 
 ment. At a given signal a well-known O.P. was to cry out from 
 the gallery, " Nosey ! Music ! " whereupon all the O.P.'s were to 
 produce from their inside pockets a long pair of shears, edged 
 'with felt to prevent their maJiirig any noise, manufactured ex- 
 pressly by a wretch at Birmingham, one of Mr. Brougham's' 
 evidences, and now in custody. With these they were to cut off 
 the heads of-all the loyal N.P.'s in the house, without distinc- 
 tion of sex or age. At the signal, similarly given, of " Throw-,, 
 him over," which it now appears always alluded to the overthrow 
 of our riever-sufRciently-enough-to-be-deeply-and-universally-to- 
 be-venerated constitution, all the heads of the N.P.'s were to be 
 thrown at the fiddlers, to prevent their appearing in evidence, or 
 perhaps as a false and illiberal insinuation that they have no 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 273 
 
 heads of their own. All that we know of the further designs of 
 these incendiaries, is, that they are by-a-great-deal-too-much too- 
 horrible-to-be-mentioned. 
 
 Th^ manager has acted with his usual promptitude on this 
 trying occasion. He has contracted for 300 tons of gunpowder, 
 which are at this moment placed in a small barrel under the pit, 
 and a descendant of Guy Faux, assisted by Colonel Congreve, 
 has undertaken to blow up the house, when necessary, in so 
 novel and ingenious a manner, that every O.P. shall be annihi- 
 lated, while not a whisker of the N.P.'s shall be singed. This 
 strikingly displays the advantages of loyalty and attachment to 
 government. Several other hints have been taken from the 
 theatrical regulations of thenot-a-bit-the-less-on-that-account-to- 
 be-universally-execrated monster Bonaparte. A park of artillery, 
 pirovided with chain-shot, is to be stationed on the stage, and' 
 play upon the audience in case of any indication of misplaced 
 applause or popular discontent (which accounts for the large 
 space between the curtain and the lamps) ; and the public will 
 participate our satisfaction in learning that the indecorous 
 custom of standing up with the hat on is to be abolished, as the 
 Bow Street officers are provided with daggers, and have orders 
 to stab all such persons to the heart, and send their bodies to 
 Surgeons' Hall ; gentlertien who cough are only to be slightly 
 wounded. Fruit-women bawling "Bill of the Play" are to be 
 forthwith shot, for which purpose soldiers will be stationed in the 
 slips, and ball-cartridge is to be served out with the lemonade. 
 If any of the spectators happen to sneeze or spit they are to be 
 transported for life, and any person who is so' tall as to prevent 
 another seeing, is to be dragged out and sent on board the tender, 
 or, by an instrument taken out of the pocket of Procrustes, to be 
 forthwith cut shorter, either at the ,head or foot, according as 
 his own convenience may dictate. 
 
 Thus, ladies and gentlemen, have the committee, through my 
 medium, set forth the not-in-a-hurry-to-be-paralleled plan they 
 have adopted for preserving order and decorum within the walls 
 of their magnificent edifice. Nor have they, while attentive to 
 their own concerns, by any means overlooked those of the cities 
 « of London and Westminster. Finding, on enumeration, that 
 they have with awith-two-hands-and-one-tongue7to-be-applauded 
 liberality, contracted for more gunpowder than they want, they 
 have parted with the surplus to the mattock-carrying and 
 hustings-hammering high bailiff of Westminster, who hzs, with 
 his. own shovel, dug a large hole in the front of the parish church 
 pf St. Paul, Covent Garden, that, upon the least symptom of ill- 
 breeding in the mob at the general election, the whole of the 
 market may be blown into the air. This, ladies and gentlemen, 
 may at first make provisions m^, but we pledge the credit of 
 our theatre that they will soon fall again, and people be supplied 
 
274 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 as usual with Vfegetables in the in-general-strewed-\Yith-cabbage- 
 stalks-but-on-Saturday-night-lighted-up-with-lamps market of 
 
 Covent Garden. 
 
 I should expatiate more largely on the other advantages of 
 the glorious constitution of these by-the-whole-of-^Europe-envied 
 realms, but I am called away to take an account of the ladies, 
 and other artificial flowers, at a fashionable rout, of which,'a full 
 and particular account will hereafter appear. > For the present', 
 my fashionable intelligence is scanty, on account of the opening 
 of Drury Lane ; and the ladies and gentlemen whb honour me 
 with their attention, will not be surprised if they find nothing 
 under my usual head ! 
 
 THE THEATRE. 
 By the Rev. G. C. 
 
 Nil intentatum nostfi liqu6re poetas. 
 
 Nee minimum meruere decus, vestigia Grseoa 
 
 Ausi desesere, et celebrare domestica facta. — HORAT. 
 
 A PREFACE OF APOLOGIES. ^ 
 
 If the following poem should be fortunate enough to be selected 
 for the opening Address, a few words of explanation may be 
 deemed necessary, on my part, to avert invidious misrepresenta- 
 tion. The animadversion I have thought it right to make on 
 the noise created by tuning the orchestra, will, I hope, give no 
 lasting remorse to any of the gentlemen employed in the band. 
 It is to be desired that they would keep' their instruments ready' 
 tuned, and strike off at once. This would be an accommodation 
 to many well-meaning persons who frequent the theatre, who 
 not being blest with the ear of St. Ceciha, mistake the! tuning . 
 for the overture, and think the latter concluded before it is . 
 begun. 
 
 "one fiddle will 
 Give, half-ashamed, a tiny flourish still — " 
 
 was originally written " one hautboy will," but having . provi- 
 dentially been informed, when this poem was upon the point, of 
 being sent off, that there is but one hautboy in the band, I 
 averted the storm of popular and managerial indignation from 
 the head of its blower ; as it now stands, " one fiddle " among 
 many, the faulty individual will, 1 hope, escape detection. Thfe 
 story of the flying playbill is calculated to expose a practice, 
 much too commoti, of pinning playbills to the cushions, 
 insecurely, and frequently,, I fear, not pinning them at all. If 
 these lines save one playbill only from the fate I have recorded, 
 
' REJECTED, ADDRESSES. 275 
 
 I shall not deem my labour' ill employed. The concluding 
 episode of Patrick Jennings, glances at the boorish fashion of 
 wearing the hat in the one-shilling gallery. Had Jennings thrust , 
 his between his feet at the commencement of the play, he 
 might have leaned forward with impunity, and the catastrophe 
 I relate would not have occurred. The line of handkerchiefs 
 formed to enable him to recover his loss, is purposely so crossed 
 in texture and materials, as to mislead the reader in respect of 
 the real owner of any one of them. For, in the satirical view of, 
 life and manners, which I occasionally present, my clerical 
 profession has taught me how extremely improper it would be by 
 any allusion, however slight, to give any uneasiness, however 
 trivial, to any individual, however foolish or wicked. 
 
 G. C. 
 
 THE THEATRE. 
 
 Inferior of a theatre described. — Pit gradually fills. — The check-taker. — Pit 
 full. — The orchestra tuned.— One fiddle rather dilatory. — Is reproved;— 
 and repents. — Evolutions of,a playbill. — Its final settlement on the spikes. 
 — The gods taken to task — and ithy. — Motley group of playgoers. — 
 Holywell Street, St. Pancras. — Emanuel Jennings binds his son appren- 
 tice. — Not in London^and why.— ^Episode of the hat. 
 
 'Tis sweet to view,, from half-past five to six, 
 Our long wax-candles, with short cotton wicks, 
 Touch'd by the lamplighter's Promethean art. 
 Start into light and make the lighter start ; 
 To see red Phoebus through the gallery pane 
 Tinge with his beam the beams of Drury Lane, 
 While gradual parties fill our widen'd pit, 
 And gape, and gaze, and wonder, ere they sit. 
 
 At first, while vacant seats give choice and ease, 
 Distant or near, they settle where they please ; 
 But when the multitude contracts the span, 
 And seats are -rare, they settle where they can. 
 
 Now the full benches, to late comers, doom 
 No room for standing, miscall'd standing-room. 
 
 Hark ! the check-taker moody silence breaks, 
 And bawling "Pit full," gives the check he takes ; 
 Yet onward still, the gathering numbers cram. 
 Contending crowders shout the frequent damn. 
 And all is bustle, squeeze, row, jabbering, jam. 
 
 See to their desks Apollo's sons repair ; 
 Swift rides the rosin o'er the horse's hair ; 
 
S76 REJECtE!? ADDRESSES. 
 
 In unison their various tones to tune . 
 Murmurs the hautboy, growls the hoarse bassoon ; 
 In soft vibration sighs the whispering lute, 
 Tang, goes the harpsichord, itoo-too the flute,. 
 Brays the loud trumpet, squeaks the fiddle sharp, 
 Winds the French-horn, and twangs the tinghng harp ; 
 Till, like great Jove, the leader, figuring in. 
 Attunes to order the chaotic din. - ^ ' 
 
 Now all seems hush'd — ^but no, one fiddle will 
 , Give, half-ashamed, a tiny flourish still ; 
 / Foil'd in his crash, the leader of the clan 
 
 Reproves with frowns the dilatory man ; 
 Then on his candlestick thrice taps his bow, 
 Nods a new signal, and away they go. 
 Perchance, while pit and gallery cry, " Hats off'," 
 And awed Consumption checks his chided cough, 
 Some giggling daughter of the Queen of Love 
 Drops, reft of pin, her playbill from above ; 
 Like Icarus, while laughing galleries clap, 
 Soars, ducks, and dives iij air the printed scrap ; 
 But, wiser far than he, combustion fears. 
 And, as it flies, eludes the chandeliers ; / 
 Till sinking gradual, with repeated twirl, 
 It settles, curling; on a fiddler's curl ; 
 Who from his powder'd pate the intruded strikes, 
 Aild, for mere malice, sticks it on the spikes. 
 
 I Say, why these Babel strains from Babel tongues ? 
 Who's that calls " Silence" with such leathern lungs ? 
 He who, in quest of quiet, "' silence " hoots. 
 Is apt to make the hubbub he imputes. 
 
 What various swains our motley walls contain ! 
 Fashion from Mporfields, honour from Chick Lane ; 
 Bankers from Paper Buildings here resort. 
 Bankrupts froni Golden Square and Riches Court ; 
 From the Haymarket canting rogues in grain, , 
 ' Culls from the Poultry, sots from Water Lane ; 
 The lottery cormorant, the auction shark, 
 The full-price master, and the half-price clerk ; 
 Boys who long Ijngerat the gallery d.oor, 
 With pence twice five, they want but twopence more. 
 Till some Samaritan the twopence spares. 
 And sends them jumping up the gallery stairs. 
 
 Critics we boast'who ne'er their malice baulk. 
 But talk their minds, we wish they'd mind their talk ; 
 Big-worded bullies, who by quarrels live. 
 Who give the lie, and tell the lie they give ; 
 
' REJECTED ADDRESSES. 277 
 
 Jfews from St. Mary Axe, for jobs so wary, 
 That for old clothes they'd even axe St. Mary ; 
 And bUcks with pockets empty as their pate, 
 Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait, 
 Who oft, when we our house locjk up, carouse 
 With tippling tipstaves in a lock-up house. ' 
 
 ' Yet here, as elsewhere, chance can joy bestow, 
 Where scowling fortune seem'd to threaten woe. 
 
 ' John Richard William Alexander Dwyer 
 Was footman to Justinian Stubbs, Esquire.; 
 But when John Dwyer listed in the Blues, 
 Emanuel Jennings poUsh'd Stubbs's shoes. 
 Emanuel Jennings brought his youngest boy 
 Up as a corn-cutter, a safe etnploy ; 
 In Holywell Street, St. Pancras, he was bred 
 (At number twenty-seven, it is said), 
 Facing the pump, and near the Granby's Head: 
 He vCould have bound him to some shop in town, 
 But with a premium he could not come 40 wn ; 
 Pat was the urchin's name, a red-hair'd youth, 
 Fonder of purl and skittle-grounds than truth. 
 
 Silence, ye gods ! to keep,your tongues in awe. 
 The Muse shall tell an accident she saw. 
 
 Pat Jennings in the upper gallery sat. 
 But, leaning forward, Jennings lost his hat; 
 Down from the gallery the beaver flew, 
 And spurn'd'the one to settle in the two. 
 How shall he act ? Pay at the gallery door 
 Two shillings for what cost, when new, but four .'' 
 Or till half-price, to save hiis shilling, wait, 
 And gain his hat again at half-past eight.'' 
 Now, while his fears anticipate a thief, 
 John Mullins whispers, " Take my handkerchief.'-' 
 " Thank you," cries Pat, " but one won't make a line ; " 
 " Take mine," cried Wilson, and cried Stokes, " take mine. ' 
 A motley caiile soon Pat Jennings ties, 
 Where Spitalfields with real India vies. 
 Like Iris' bow, down darts the painted hue, 
 Starr'd, striped, and spotted, yellow, red, and blue, 
 Old calico, torn silk, and muslin new. 
 George Green below, with palpitating hand, 
 Loops the last 'kerchief to the beavePs band. 
 Up soars the prize ; the youth, with joy unfeign'd, 
 Reg:ain'd the felt, and felt what he regain'd. 
 While to the applauding galleries graleftil Pat 
 Made a low bow, and tpuch'd the ransom'd hat. 
 
278 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 To the Managing Coinimt'iee of the hleiu Drury Lane 
 Theatre. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 Happening to be wool-gathering at the foot of Mount 
 Parnassus, I was suddenly seized with a violent travestie in the 
 head. The first symptoms I felt were several triple rhymes 
 floating about my- brain, accompanied by a singing in my throat, 
 which quickly, communicated itself to the ears of everybody 
 about me, and made me a burthen to my friends, and a tortnent , 
 to Doctor Apollo, three of whose favourite servants, that is to 
 say, Macbeth, his butcher, Mrs. Haller, his cook, and George 
 Barnwell, his bookkeeper, I waylaid in one of my fits of insanity, 
 and mauled after a very frightful fashion. In this ,woeful crisis - 
 I a!ccidentally heard of your invaluable New Patent Hissing Pit, 
 which cures every disorder incident to Grub Street. I send you 
 enclosed a more detailed specimen df my case ; if you coiuld 
 mould it into the shape of an Address to be said or sung on the 
 first night of your peiformance, I have no doubt that I should 
 feel the immediate effects of your invaluable New Patent Hissing 
 Pitj of which they tell me one hiss is a dose. 
 
 ' I am, &c. 
 
 MoMus Medlar. 
 
 Casr No. I. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Enter Macbeth in a red nightcap. Vxge, following 
 with a torch. 
 
 Go, boy, and thy good mistress tell 
 (She knows that my purpose is cruel), 
 I'd thank her to tingle her bell, 
 As soon as she's heated my gruel. 
 Go, get thee to bed and repose, 
 To sit up so late is a scandal ; 
 But ere you have ta'en off your clothes, 
 Be sure that you put out that candle. 
 
 Ri fol de rol tol de rol loL 
 
 My stars, in the air here's a knife ! 
 I'm sure it cannot be a hum ; 
 I'll catch at the handle, add's life. 
 And then I shall not cut my thumb. 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 279 
 
 I've got him ! — no, at him again, , 
 Come, come, I'm -not fond of these jokes : 
 This must be some blade of the brain : 
 Those witches are given to hoax. 
 
 I've one in my pocket; I know, 
 -My wife left on purpose behind her, 
 She bought this of Teddy-high-ho, 
 The poor Caledonian giinder. ' 
 
 I see thee again ! o'er, thy middle 
 Large drops of red blood now are spill'd, 
 Just as much as to say diddle diddle. 
 Good Duncan pray come and be kill'd. 
 
 It leads to his chamber, I swear ; 
 
 I tremble and quake every joint ; 
 
 No dog at the scent of a hare 
 
 Ever yet made a cleverer point. 
 
 Ah, no ! 'tsvas a dagger of straw — 
 
 Give me blinkers to save me from starting ; 
 
 The knife that I thought that I saw, 
 
 Was nought but my eye, Betty Martin. 
 
 Now o'er this terrestrial hive 
 A life paralytic is spread, 
 For while the one half is alive, 
 The other is sleepy and dead. 
 King Duncan in grand majesty 
 Has got my state bed fora snooze, 
 I've lent him my slippers, so I 
 May certainly stand in his shoes. 
 
 Blow softly, ye murmuring gales, • • 
 Ye feet rouse no echo in walking. 
 For though a dead man tells no tales. 
 Dead walls are much given to talking. 
 This knife shall be in at the death, 
 I'll stick him, then off safely get. 
 Cries the world, this could not be Macbeth, 
 1 For he'd ne'er stick at anything yet. 
 
 Hark, hark, 'tis the signal by goles, 
 It sounds like a funeral knell : 
 O hear it not, Duncan, it tolls 
 To call thee to heaven or hell. ■ 
 Or if you to heaven won't fly, 
 But rather prefer Pluto's ether. 
 Only wait a few years till I die. 
 And we'll go to the devil together, 
 
 Ri fol de rol, &c. 
 
28o ' REJECTEP ADDRESSES. ^ 
 
 Case No. II. ' 
 THE STRANGER. 
 
 Who, has e'ejr been at Drury must needs know the Strarigcr, 
 
 A waiHng oli Methodist, gloomy and wan, . 
 
 A husband suspicious, his wife acted Ranger, 
 
 She toolc to her heels, and left poor Hypochon. 
 
 Her martial gallant swore that truth was a libel. 
 
 That marriage was thraldom, elopement no sin ; 
 
 Quoth she, ", I remember the words of my Biblei 
 
 My spouse is a Stranger, and I'll take him in'." 
 
 With my sentimentalibus lachrymae roar'em, 
 , And pathos and bathos delightful to see ; 
 ' And chop and change ribs a-la-mo'de Germanorum, 
 
 And high diddle ho diddle, pop tweedle dee. 
 
 To keep up her dignity, no longer rich enough, 
 Where was her plate ? why 'twas laid on the shelf. 
 Her land fuller's earth, and her great riches kitchen stuff, 
 Dressing the dinner instead of herself. i , 
 
 No longer permitted in diamonds to sparlde, ' 
 
 Now plain Mrs. Haller, of servants the dread. 
 With a heart full of grief and a pan full of' charcoal, 
 Shejighted the company up to their bed. 
 
 Incensed at her flight, her poor hubby in dudgeon 
 Roam'd after his rib in a gig and a pout, , 
 Till, tired with his journey, thepeevish curmudgeon, 
 Sat down and blubber'd just like a church spout. 
 One day on a bench as dejected and sad he laid, ; 
 
 ^earing a squash, he cried, " Hullo, what's that ? " 
 'Twas a child of the Count's, in whose service lived Adelaide, ' 
 Soused in the river and squalled like a cat- 
 Having drawn bis young excellence up to the bank, it 
 Appear'd that hinjself was all dripping, I swear, 
 , No wonder he soon became dry as a blanket, 
 Exposed as he wasto the Count's son and heir. ' „ 
 •' Dear sir," quoth the Count, " in reward of your valour, 
 To show that my gratitude is not mere talk. 
 You shall eat a beefsteak which my cook, Mrs., Haller, 
 Cut from the rump with her own knife and fork.'" 
 
 Behold, now the Count gave the Stranger a dinner. 
 With gunpowder teia, which you know brings a ball. 
 And, thin as, he was, that he might not grow thinner, , 
 
 He made of the Stranger no stranger at all ; 
 
REJECTED"At)DRESSES. 48 1 
 
 At dinner fair Adelaide brought up a chicken, 
 
 A bird that she never had met with before, 
 
 But, seeing him, scream'd, and was carried off, kicking, 
 
 And he bang'd his nob 'gainst the opposite door. 
 
 To, finish my tale without roundaboutation. 
 Young master and missee besieged their papa, 
 They sung a quartetto in grand blubberation ; . 
 
 The Stranger cried "Oh ! " Mrs. Haller cried "Ah ! " 
 Though pathos and sentiment largely are dealt in, 
 I have no good moral to give in exchange. 
 For though she as a cook might be given to meltipg. 
 The Stranger's behaviour was certainly strange. 
 With his sentimentalibus lachrymae roar'em. 
 And pathos and bathos delightful to see. 
 And chop and change ribs a-la-mode Germanorum, 
 And high diddle ho diddle, pop tweedle dee. 
 
 Case No. III. 
 GEORGE BARNWELL. 
 
 George Barnwell stood at the shop door, 
 A customer hoping to find, sir ; 
 His apron was hanging before, 
 But the tail of his coat was behind, sir. 
 A lady so painted and smart, ' - 
 
 Cried, " Sir; I've exhausted my stock o' late,- 
 I've got nothing left but a groat, 
 Could you give me four penn'orth of chocolate ? 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 Her face was rouged up to the eyes. 
 Which made her look prouder and prouder, 
 His hair stood on end with surpise. 
 And hers with pomatum and powder. 
 The business was soon understood ; 
 The lady, who wish'd to be more rich. 
 Cries, " Sweet sir, my name is Milwood, 
 And' I lodge at the Gunner's, va Shoreditch." 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 Now nightly he stole out, good lack. 
 And into her lodging would pop, sir, 
 A^id often forgot to come back, 
 Leaving master to shut up the shop, sir. 
 
282 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Her beauty his wits did bereave; 
 Determin'd to be quite the crack O, 
 He lounged at the Adam and Eve, 
 And call'd for his gin and tobacco. 
 ' Rum ti, &c. 
 
 And now (for the truth must be told) 
 Though none of a 'prentice should speak ill, 
 He stole from the till all the gold, 
 And ate the lump sugar and treacle. 
 In vain did his master exclaim, 
 " Dear George, don't engage with that Dragon, 
 She'll lead you to sorrow and shame. 
 And leave you the devil a rag on 
 Your Rum ti," &c. 
 
 In vain he entreats and implores 
 The weak and incurable ninny, 
 So kicks him at last out of doors. 
 And Georgy soon spends his last guinea. 
 His uncle, whose generous purse 
 Had often relieved him, as 1 know. 
 Now finding him grow worse and worse. 
 Refused to come down with the rhino. 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 Cried Milwood, whose cruel heart's core. 
 Was so ilinty that nothing could shock it, 
 " If ye mean to come here any more. 
 Pray come with more cash in your pocket. 
 Make nunky surrender his dibs. 
 Rub his pate with a pair of lead towels. 
 Or stick a knife into his ribs, 
 ni warrant he'll then show some bowels," 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 A pistol he got from his love, 
 'Twas loaded with powder and bullet, 
 He trudged off to Camberwell Grove, 
 But wanted the courage to pull it. 
 " There's nunky as fat as a hog, 
 While I am as lean as a lizard ; 
 Here's at you ! you stingy old dog ! " 
 And he whips a long knife in his gizzard. 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 All you who attend to my song, 
 
 A terrible end of the farce shall see, 
 
 If you join the inquisitive throng 
 
 That follower! nnor Genrtrp tn the Mnrshalsffa. 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 283 
 
 " If Milwood were Here, dash my wigs ! " 
 Quoth he, " I would pummel and lam her well 1 
 Had I stuck to my prunes and my fig?, 
 I ne'er had stuck nunky at Camberwell." 
 Rum ti, &c. , 
 
 Their bodies were never cut down, 
 For granny relates with amazement, 
 A witch bore 'em over the to\^rn 
 And hung them, on Thorowgood's casement. 
 The neighbours, I've heard the folks say, 
 The miracle noisily brag on, 
 And the shop is to this very day, 
 Th^ sign of the George and the Dragon. 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 PUNCH'S APOTHEOSIS. 
 By T. H. 
 
 Rhymes the rudders are of verses, 
 
 With which, like ships, they steer their courses. — 
 
 HUDIBEAS. 
 
 Scene draws, and discovers Punch on a throne surrounded by 
 Lear, Lady Macbeth, Macbeth^ Othello, George 
 Barnwell, Hamlet, Ghost, Macheath, Juliet, Friar, 
 Apothecary, Romeo, and Falstaff.— Punch descends, 
 and addresses them in the following 
 
 RECITATIVE. 
 
 As manager of horses Mi". Merryman is, 
 
 So I with you am master of the ceremonies, — 
 
 These grand rejoicings, let me see, how name ye 'em ? 
 
 Oh, in Greek lingo 'tis E — pi — thalamium. 
 
 October's tenth it is, toss up each hat to-day, 
 
 And celebirate with shouts our opening Saturday. 
 
 On this great night 'tis settled by our manager, 
 
 That we, to please great Johnny Bull, should plan a jeer, 
 
 Dance a bang-up theatrical cotillon, 
 
 And put on tuneful Pegasus a pillion ; 
 
 Tha.t every |oul, whether or not a cough he has, 
 
 May kick like Harlequin, and sing like Orpheus. 
 
 So come, ye pupils of Sir John Gallini, 
 
 Spin up a teetotum like AngioUini ; 
 
 That John and Mrs. Bull from ale and teahouses. 
 
 May shout huzza for Punch's Apotheosis ! 
 
 \They dance and sing. 
 
,284 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Air—" Sure such a rfo,)/,"— Tom'Th,UMB. 
 
 Lear. Dance, ReganJ dance with Cordelia and Goneril, 
 "■Down the middle, up again, pouSsette, and cross ; 
 Stop Cordelia, do not tread upon her heel, 
 Regan feeds on coltsfoot, and kicks like a horse. 
 See, she twists her mutton fists like Molyneux or Beelzebub, 
 And t' other's clack, who pats her back, is louder far than Hell's 
 
 , hubbub. 
 Tliey tweak my nqse, and round it goes, I fear they'll br,eak the 
 
 ridge of it, 
 Or leave it all just like Vauxball, with only half the bridge of it. 
 
 Onines. Round let us bound, for this is Punch's holiday, 
 Glory to tomfoolery. Huzza ! huzza ! 
 
 Lady Macbeth. I kill'd the King, my husband is a heavy dunce, . 
 He left the grooms unmassacred, then massacred the stud. 
 One loves long gloves, for mittens, like King's evidence. 
 Let truth with the fingers out, and won't hide blood. 
 
 Macbeth. When spooneys on two knees implore the aid of 
 sorcery. 
 To suit their wicked purposes they quickly put the laws avpry. 
 With Adam I in wife may vie, for none could tell the use of her. 
 Except to cheapen golden pippins hawk'd about by Lucifer. 
 
 Omnes. Round let us bound, for this is Punch's holiday, 
 Glory to tomfoolery. Huzza ! huzza ! 
 
 Othello. Wife, come to life, forgive what your black lover did. 
 Spit the feathers from your mouth and munch roast beef ; 
 lago he may go and be toss'd in the coverlid, 
 ■ That smother'd you because you pawn'd my handkerchief. 
 
 Geo. Barnwell. Why, neger, so eager about your rib immacu- , 
 late.? 
 Milwood shows for hanging us they've got an ugly knack o' late ; 
 If on beauty ;stead of duty but one peeper bent he sees, 
 Satan waits with Dolly baits to hook in us apprentices. , 
 
 Omnes. Round let us bound, for this is Punch's holiday. 
 Glory to tomfoolery. Huzza ! huzza ! 
 
 Hamlet. I'm Hamlet in camlet, my ap and perihelia, 
 The_ moon can fix which lunatics makes sharp or flat. 
 ^ I stuck by ill-luck, enamour'd of Ophelia, 
 Old Polony like a sausage, and exclaim'd, " Rat ! Rat ! "' 
 
 Ghost, let Gertrude sup the poisoned cup, no more I'll be an 
 actor in 
 Such sorry food, but drink home-brew'd of Whitbread's manu- 
 facturing. 
 
 Macheath. I'll Polly it, and folly it, and dance it quite the 
 dandy O, 
 But as fortunes I have but one, and that is " Drops of Brandy 0." ' 
 
REJECTED ADDRESSES. 285 
 
 Omnes. Round let us bound, for this is Punch's holiday, 
 Glory to tomfoolery. Huzza ! huzza ! , 
 
 Juliet. I'm Juliet Capulet, who took a dose of hellebore, 
 A Hell-of-a-bore I fpund it to put on a pall. 
 
 Friar, hviA 1 am the friar who so corpulent a belly bore. 
 ', Apothecary. And that is why poor skinny I have none at all. - 
 
 Romeo. I'm the :?esurrection man of buried bodies amorous. 
 
 balstaff. I'm fagg'd to death, and out of breath, and am for 
 I qujet clamorous. 
 
 For though my paunch is round and staunch, I ne'er begin- to 
 " fill it ere I 
 
 Fe,el that I have no stomach left for entertainment military. 
 , Omnes. Round let us .bound, for this is Punch's holiday. 
 Glory to tomfoolery. , Huzza ! huzza I 
 
 [Exeunt dancing. 
 
Odes and Addresses to 
 
 Great People. 
 
 (1825.) 
 
 ODE TO MR. GRAHAM. 
 
 THE AERONAUT. 
 
 Up With me ! — up with me into the sky ! — 
 
 Wordsworth— ON^ a Lark : 
 
 Dear Graham, whilst the busy crowd, 
 The vain, the wealthy, and the proud, 
 
 Their meaner flights pursue, 
 Let us cast off the foolish ties 
 That bind us to the earth, and rise 
 
 And take a bird's-eye view ! 
 
 II. 
 
 A few more whiffs of my cigar 
 And then, in Fancy's airy car. 
 
 Have with thee for the skies : 
 How oft this fragrant smoke upcurl'd 
 Hath borne me from this little world, 
 
 And all that in it lies ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Away !— away ! — the bubble fills- 
 Farewell to earth and 'all its hills ! — 
 
 We seem to cut the wind! — 
 So high we mount, so swift we go. 
 The chimney-tops are far below, 
 
 The Eagle's left behind ! 
 
2Sa ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 Ah me ! my brain begins to swim ! — 
 The world is growing rather dim ; 
 
 The steeples and the trees — 
 My wife is getting very small ! 
 I cannot see my babe at all ! — 
 
 The DoUond, if you please ! — 
 
 Do, Graham, let me have a quiz, 
 Lord ! what a Lilliput it is, 
 
 Th^t little world of Mogg's !— 
 Are those the London Docks?— that channel, 
 The mighty Thames ? — a proper kennel 
 
 For that small Isle of Dogs f 
 
 What is that seeming tea-urn there ! 
 That fairy dome, St. Paul's ! — I swear. 
 
 Wren must have been a wren !— 
 And that small stripe ? — it cannot be 
 The City Road I^Good lack ? to see 
 
 "the. little ways of men ! 
 
 VII. ' 
 
 Little, indeed !— my eyebaltp ache 
 To find a turnpike. I must take 
 
 Their tolls upon my trust ! — 
 And where is mortal labour gone ? 
 Look, Graham, for a little stone 
 
 MacAdamized to dust ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Look at the horses ! — less than flies !— 
 Oh, what a waste it was of sighs 
 
 To wish to be a Mayor ! 
 What is the honour ? — none at all. 
 One's honour must be very small 
 
 For such a civic chair ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 And there's Guildhall !— 'tis far aloof— 
 Methinks, I fancy thro' the roof 
 
 Its little guardian Gogs, 
 Like penny dolls — a tiny show ! — 
 Well, — I must say they're rtled below 
 
 By very little logs ! 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. 289 
 
 X. 
 
 Oh t Graham, how the upper air 
 Alters the standards of compare ; 
 
 One of our silken flags . , 
 
 .Would cover London all about^r- 
 Nay, then — let's even empty out 
 
 Another brace of bags ! 
 
 XI. , 
 
 Now for a glass of bright champagrie 
 Above the clouds ! — Come, let us drain 
 
 A bumper as we go ! 
 But hold 1 — for God's sake do not cant 
 The cork away^unless you want 
 
 To brain your friends below. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Think ! what a mob of little men 
 Are crawling just within our ken, 
 
 Like njites upon a cheese 1 
 Pshaw ! — ^how the' foolish sight rebukes . 
 Ambitious thoughts ! — can there be Dukes 
 
 Of Gloster such as these ! in - 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Oh 1 what is glory ? — what is fame .'' 
 Hark to the little mob's acclaim, , 
 
 'Tis nothing but a hum 1 
 A few near gnats would trump as loud 
 As all the shouting of a crowd 
 
 That has so far to come 1 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Well—they are wise that choose the near, 
 A few small buzzards in the ear, 
 
 To organs ages hence ! — 
 Ah me, how distance touches all ; 
 It makes the true look rather small, 
 
 But murders poor pretence. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " The world recedes' !— it disappears I 
 Heav'n open on my eyes — rny ears 
 
 With buzzing noises ring ! " 
 A fig for Southey's Laureate lore ! — 
 What's Rogers here ?— who cares for Moore 
 
 That hears the angels sing ! 
 
 K- 
 
290 ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 A fig for earth, and all its minions ! — 
 We are above the world's opinions, 
 
 Graham ! we'll have our own ! — 
 Look what a vantage height we've got ! — 
 Now do you think Sir Walter Stott 
 
 Is such a Great Unknown ? 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Speak up ! — or hath he hid his name 
 To crawl thro' "subways" into fame, 
 
 Like Williams of Cornhill 1— 
 Speak up, my lad ! — when men run small 
 We'll show what's little in them all, 
 
 Receive it how they will ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Think now of Irving !— shall he preach 
 The princes down — shall he impeach 
 
 The potent and the rich. 
 Merely on ethic stilts, — and I 
 Not moralize at two miles high 
 
 The true didactic pitch ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Come : — what d'ye think of Jeffrey, sir ? 
 Is Gififord such a Gulliver 
 
 In Lilliput's Review, 
 That like Colossus he should stride 
 Certain small brazen inches wide 
 
 For poets to pass through 1 
 
 XX. 
 
 Look down ! the world is but a spot. 
 Now say — Is Blackwood's low or not. 
 
 For all the Scottish tone ? 
 It shall not weigh us here — not where 
 The sandy burden's lost in air — 
 
 Our lading-^where is't flown ! 
 
 Now, — like you Croly's verse indeed — 
 In heaven — where one cannot read 
 
 The " Warren " on a wall .'' 
 What think you here of that man's fame ? 
 Tho' Jerdan magnified his name, ! 
 
 To me 'tis very small ! 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. 391 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And, truly, is there such a spell 
 In those three letters, L. E. L., 
 
 To witch a world with song ? 
 On clouds the Byron did not sit, 
 Yet dared on Shakespeare's head to spit, 
 
 And say the world was wrong ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 And shall not we ? Let's think aloud ! 
 TJius being couch'd upon a cloud, 
 
 Graham, we'll have our eyes ! 
 We felt the great when we were less, 
 But we'll retort on littleness 
 
 Now we are in the skies. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Graham, Graham, how I blame 
 The bastard blush, — the petty shame, 
 
 That used to fret me quite, — 
 The little sores I cover'd then, 
 No sores on earth, nor sorrows when 
 
 The world is out of sight ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 My name is Tims. I am the man 
 That North's unseen diminish'd clan 
 So scurvily abused ! 
 
 1 am the very P. A. Z. 
 
 The London's Lion's small pin's head 
 So often hath refused ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Campbell — (you cannot see him here) — 
 Hath scom'd my lays : — do his appear 
 
 Such great eggs from the sky ? 
 And Longman, and his lengthy Co. 
 Long, only, in a little Row, 
 
 Have thrust my poems by ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 What else ? — I'm poor, and much beset 
 With petty duns — that is — in debt 
 
 Some grains of golden dust ! 
 But only worth, above, is worth. 
 What's all the credit of the earth ? 
 
 An inch of cloth on trust ! 
 
 K 2 
 
292 ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 What's RothscHild here, that wealthy man ! 
 I^ay, worlds of wealth?— Oh, if you can 
 
 Spy out,— the Gdlderi' Ball ! 
 Sure as we rose, all money sank : 
 ' What's gold or silver nbw ?— the Bank 
 
 Is gone— the 'Change and all ! 
 
 x*ix. 
 
 What's all the ground- rent of the globe? — 
 Oh, Graham,'it,wo'uld' worry Job • 
 
 To hear its landlords prate ! • 
 But after this survey, I think 
 j'U ne'er' be bullied' more, nor shrink 
 
 From men of large estate ! 
 
 xxx. 
 
 And less, still less, will I submit 
 To poor mean acres' worth of wit — ' 
 
 I that have Heaven's span^ 
 I that like Shakespeare's self may dream 
 Beyond the very clouds, and seem 
 
 An Universal Man ! 
 
 xxxi. 
 
 Oh, Graham, Hiark those gorgeous crowds ! 
 Like birds of paradise the clouds 
 
 Are winging on the wind ! 
 But what, is grander than their range ? 
 More lovely than their sunset change ?-^ 
 
 The free creative mind ! 
 
 XXXII, 
 
 Well ! the Adults' School's in the air ! 
 The greate'st'meh are lesson'd there 
 
 As well as the lessee ! 
 Oh could earth's Ellistons thus stnall 
 Behold the greatest, stage of ail. 
 
 How humbled they would be ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 • " Oh would some god the giftie gie 'em, 
 To see themselves as others see 'em," 
 
 'Twould much abate their fuss ! 
 If they could think that from the skies 
 They are as' little in our eyes , 
 
 As they can think of lis ! 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. 293 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Of us ! are we gone out of sight ? ■ 
 Lessen'd ! diminish'd I vanish'd quite ! 
 
 Lost to the tiny town ! 
 Beyond the Eagle's ken— the grope 
 Of DoUond's longest telescope ! 
 
 Graham I we're gping down ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Ah me ! I've touch'd a string thaf opes 
 The airy valve ! — the gas elopes — 
 
 Down goes our bright balloon ! — 
 Farewell the skies !. the clouds ! I smell 
 The lower world ! Graham, farewell, 
 
 Man of the silken moon ! 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 The earth is close ! the City nears — 
 Like a burnt paper it appears, 
 
 Studded with tiny sparks ! 
 Methinks I hear the distant rout 
 Of coaches rumbling all about — 
 
 We're close above the Parks ! 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 I hear the watchmen on their beats. 
 Hawking the hour about the streets. 
 
 Lord ! what a cruel jar 
 It is upon the earth to light! 
 Well — there's the finish of our flight ! 
 
 I've smoked my last cigar ! 
 
 ODE TO MR. M'ADAM. 
 Let us take to the road ! — Beggar's Opera. 
 
 M'Adam, hail ! 
 Hail, Roadian ! hail, Colossus ! who dost stand 
 Striding ten thousand turnpikes on the land ! 
 
 Oh, universal Leveller ! all hail ! 
 To thee, a good, yet stony-hearted man. 
 
 The kindest one, and yet the flintiest going — 
 To thee — how much for thy comrnodious plan, 
 , Lanark Reformer of the Ruts, is Owing ! 
 
294 ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 The Bristol mail 
 Gliding o'er ways, hitherto, deem'diavincible, 
 When carrying patriots now shall never fail 
 Those of the most "unskaken public principle." 
 Hail to thee, Scott of Scots ! 
 Thou northern light, amid those'heavy men ! 
 , Foe to Stonehenge, yet friend to all beside, 
 Thou scatter'st flints and favours far and wide, 
 From palaces to cots ; 
 Dispenser of coagulated good ! 
 Distributor of granite and of food ! 
 , 'Long may thy fame its even path march on, 
 E'en when thy sons are dead ! 
 Best benefactor ! though thou giv'st a stone 
 To those who ask for bread ! 
 
 11- 
 
 Thy first great trial in this mighty town 
 Was, if I, rightly recollect, upon 
 
 That gentle hill which goeth 
 Down from "the County" to the Palace gate. 
 
 And, like a river, thanks to thee, now floweth 
 Past the Old Horticultural Society, — 
 The chemist Cobb's, the house of Howell and James, ■ 
 Where ladies play high shawl and satin games — 
 
 A little Hell of lace ! 
 And past fhe Athenaeum, made of late, 
 
 Sfevers a sweet'variety 
 Of milUners and booksellers who grace 
 
 Waterloo Place, 
 Making division, the Muse fears and guesses, 
 'Twixt Mr. Rivington's jind Mr. Hessey's. 
 Thou stood'st thy trial, Mac ! and shav'd the road 
 From Barber Beaumont's to the King^s abode 
 So well, that paviours threw their rammers by, 
 Let down their tuck'd shirt-sleeves, and with a sigh 
 Prepar'd themselves, poor souls, to chip or die ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Next, from the palace to the prison, thou 
 
 Didst go, the highway's watchman, to thy beat, — 
 Preventing though the rattling in the street, 
 Yet kicking up a row. 
 
 Upon the stones — ah ! truly watchman-like, 
 
 Encouraging thy victims all to strike. 
 To further thy own purpose, Adam, daily ; — 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. 295 
 
 Thou hast smooth'd, alas, the path to the Old Bailey ! 
 
 And to the stony bowers 
 Of Newgate, to oncou^age the approach, 
 
 By caravan or coach, — '■ 
 Hast strew'd the way with flints as soft as flowers. 
 
 IV. 
 
 . Who shall dispute thy name ! 
 Insculpt in stone in every street, 
 
 , We soon shall greet 
 Thy trodden down, yet all unconquer'd fame .! 
 Where'er we take, even at this time, our way, 
 Nought see we, but mankind in open air, 
 Hammering thy fame, as Chantrey would not dare ; 
 
 And with a patient care, 
 Chipping thy immortality all day ! 
 Demosthenes, of old, — that rare old man,^ 
 Prophet ically,y»//oK/V, Mac,! thy plan: — 
 For he, we know 
 (History says so). 
 Put pebbles in his mouth when he would speak 
 The smoothest Greek ! 
 
 It is " impossible, and cannot be," 
 But that thy genius hath, 
 Beside the turnpike,' many another path 
 
 Trod, to arrive at popularity. 
 O'er Pegasus, perchance, thou hast thrown a thigh. 
 Nor ridden a roadster only ; — ^mighty Mac ! 
 And 'faith I'd swear, when on that wingedhack, 
 Thou hast observ'd the highways in the sky ! 
 Is the path up Parnassus rough and steep. 
 
 And " hard to climb," as Dr. B. would say ? 
 Dost think it best for sons of song to keep 
 
 The noiseless tenor of their way ? (see Gray). 
 What line of road should poets take to bring 
 
 Themselves unto those waters, lov'd the first 1 — 
 Those waters whict can wet a man to sing ! 
 
 Which, like thy fame, " from granite basins burst. 
 
 Leap into life, and, sparkling, woo the thirst ? " 
 
 That thou'rt a proser, even thy birthplace might 
 Vouchsafe ; — and Mr. Cadell may, God wot, 
 Have paid thee many a pound for many a blot, — 
 
296 ODES and' ADDRESSES'.' 
 
 Cadell's a wayward wight ! 
 Although no Walter, still thou art a Scot, 
 And I can throw, I think, a little light 
 Upon some works thoii hast written for the town,— 
 And publish'd, like a Lilliput Unkip.own ! 
 
 " Highways and Byewavs" is thy book, no doubt 
 (One whole edition's out), , 
 And next, for it is fair 
 That Fame, 
 Seeing her children, should, confess she had 'em ; — 
 " Some Passages from the life of Adam Blair " — 
 
 (Blair is a Scottish name), . . 
 What are they, but thy own good roads, M'Adam ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 O ! indefatigable labourer 
 In the paths of men ! when thou shalt die, 'twill be 
 A mark of thy surpassing industry. 
 
 That of the monument, which men shall rear 
 Over thy most inestimable bofte, 
 Thou didst thy very self lay the first stotie ! 
 Of a right ancient line thou cpmest, — ^through 
 Each crook and turn we trace the unbroken cluBj 
 Until we see thy sire before our eyes, 
 • Rolling his gravel walks in Paradise ! 
 But he, our great Mac Parent, err'd, and he'er 
 
 Have our walks since been fair ! 
 Yet Time, who, like the merchant, lives on 'Chailgej 
 For ever varying, through his varying range, 
 
 Time maketh all things even ! 
 In this strange world, turning beneath high heaveil ! 
 He hath redeenl'd the AdAms, and cbntriv'd — 
 
 (How are Time's wonders hit'd !) 
 In pity to mankind, and to befriend 'etn — 
 (Time is above all praise) 
 That he, who first did make our evil ^ays. 
 Reborn in Scotland, should be first to mend 'ein ! 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. , . 297 
 
 ODE TO THE GREAT UNKNOWN. 
 O breathe not his name ! — MooRE. 
 
 Thou Great Unknown ! 
 1 do not mean Eternity nor Death, 
 
 That vast incog ! 
 For I suppose thou hast a living breath, 
 Howbeit we know not from whose lung 'tis blown, 
 
 Thou man of fog ! ' 
 Parent of many children — child of none ! 
 
 Nobody's son ! 
 Nobody's daughter — but a parent still ! 
 Still but an ostrich parent of a batch 
 Of orphan eggs, — left to the world to hatch. 
 
 Superlative Nil ! 
 A vox and nothing more, — yet not Vauxhill ; 
 A head in papers, yet without a curl ! 
 
 Not the Invisible Girl ! 
 No hand — but a hand-writing on a wall — 
 
 A popular nonentity, 
 Still call'd the same, — without identity ! 
 
 A lark, heard out of sight,— 
 A nothing shin'd upoh,-^invisibly bright, 
 
 " Dark with excess of light ! " 
 Constable's literary John-a-nokes — 
 The real Scottish wizard — to no which, 
 
 Nobody — in a niche ; 
 
 Every one's hoax ! 
 
 Maybe Sir Walter Scott— 
 Perhaps not ! 
 Why dost thou so conceal and puzzle curious folks ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Thou— whom the second-sighted never saw. 
 The Master Fiction of fictitious history ! 
 
 Chief Nong tdng paw ! 
 No mister in the world— and yet all mystery ! 
 The " tricksy spirit " of a Scotch Cock Lane — 
 A novel Junius puzzling the world's brain — 
 A man of magic— yet no talisman ! 
 A man of clair obscure — not him 0' the moon ! 
 
 A star — at noon. 
 A non-descriptus in a caravan, < 
 
 A private — of no corps — a northern light 
 
298 ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 In a dark lantern, — Bogie in a crape — 
 A figure — but no sjiape ; 
 A vizor— and no knight ; 
 The real abstract hero o£ the age ; 
 The staple Stranger of the stage ; 
 A Spme One made in every man's presumption, 
 Frankenstein's monster — btit instinct with gumption ; 
 Another strange state captive in the north, 
 ^Constable-guarded in an iron mask — 
 ■ Still let me ask. 
 Hast thou no silver platter, 
 No door-plate, or no card — ^or spme such matter, 
 To scrawl a name upon, and then cast forth ? 
 
 Thou Scottish Barmecide, feeding the hunger 
 Of Curiosity with airy gammon ? 
 
 Thou mystery-monger, 
 Dealing it put like middle cut of salmon. 
 That people buy and can't make head or tail of it 
 (Howbeit that puzzle never hurts the sale of it) ; 
 Thou chief of authors mystic and abstractical, 
 That lay their proper bodies on the shelf — 
 TCeeping thyself so truly to thyself, 
 
 Thou Zimmerman made practical ! 
 Thou secret fountain of a Scottish style, 
 
 That, like the Nile, 
 Hideth its source wherever it is bred, 
 
 But still keeps disemboguing 
 
 (Not disembroguing) 
 Thro' such broad sandy mouths without a head ! 
 Thou disembodied author — not yet dead,— > 
 The whole world's literary Absentee ! 
 
 Ah ! wherefore hast thou fled, 
 Thou learned Nemo — wise to a degree. 
 
 Anonymous LL.D. ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thou nameless captain of the nameless gang 
 That do — and inquests cannot say who did it ! 
 
 Wert thou at Mrs. Donatty's death-pang ? 
 Hast thou made gravy of Wear's watch— or hid it ? 
 Hast thou a Blue Beard chamber ? Heaven forbid it ! 
 
 I should be very loth to see thee hang ! 
 I hope thou hast an alibi well plann'd. 
 An innocent, altho' an ink-black hand. 
 
QDE^ AND ADDRESSES. 299 
 
 Tho' thou hast newly turn'd thy private bolt on , 
 
 The curiosity of all invaders — 
 I hope thou art merely closeted with Colton, 
 Who knows a little of the Holy Land, ' 
 
 Writing thy next new novel — The Crusaders ! 
 
 V. 
 Perhaps thou wert even born 
 To be unknown. Perhaps hung, some foggy morn, 
 At Captain Coram's charitable wicket, 
 
 Penn'd to a ticket 
 That Fate had made illegible, foreseeing 
 The future great unmentionable being. 
 
 Perhaps thou hast ridden 
 A scholar poor on St. Augustine's back. 
 Like Chatterton, and found a dusty pack 
 
 Of Rowley novels in an old chest hidden ; 
 A little hoard of clever simulation, 
 
 That took the town — and Constable has bidden 
 Some hundred pounds for a continuation — 
 To keep and clothe thee in genteel starvation. 
 
 VI. 
 I liked thy Waverley — first of thy breeding ; 
 
 ■I like its modest " sixty years ago," 
 As if it was not meant for ages' reading. 
 
 I don't like Ivanhoe, 
 Tho' Dymoke does— it makes him think of clattering 
 
 In iron overalls before the king, 
 Secure from battering, to ladies flattering. 
 
 Tuning his challenge to the gauntlets' ring — 
 
 Oh better far than all that anvil clang , 
 
 It was to hear thee touch the famous string 
 
 Of Robin Hood's tough bow and make it twang. 
 
 Rousing him up, all verdant, with his clan. 
 
 Like Sagittarian Pan ! 
 
 VI l'. 
 I like Guy Mannering — but not that sham son 
 Of Brown. I hke that literary Sampson, 
 Nine-tenths a Dyer, with a smack of Porson. 
 I like Dirk Hatteraick, that rough sea Orson, 
 
 That slew the Gauger ; 
 And Dandie Dinmont, like old Ursa Major ; 
 And Merrilies, young Bertram's old defender, 
 
 That Scottish Witch of Endor, 
 That doom'd thy fame. She was the Witch, I take it, 
 To tell a great man's fortune — or to make it ! 
 
300 ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I like tHy Antiquary. ' With his fit on, 
 He makes me think of Mr. Britton, 
 ' Who has— or had — within his garden wall, 
 ^ A miniature Stone Henge, so very small 
 
 The sparrows find it difficult to sit on ; 
 And Dousterswivel, like Poyais' M'Gregor ; 
 And Edie Ochiltree, that old Blue Beggar, 
 
 Painted so cleverly, 
 I think thou surely knowest Mrs. Beverly ! 
 I like thy Barber— him that fir'd the Beacon— 
 But that's a tender subject now to speak on ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 I like long-arm'd Rob Roy. His very charms 
 Fashion'd him for renown ! In sad sincerity, 
 
 The man that robs or writes must have long arms, 
 If he's to ha'nd his deeds down to posterity ! 
 Witness Miss Biffin's posthumous prosperity ! 
 Her poor brown crumpled mummy (nothing more) 
 
 Bearing the name she bore, 
 A thing Time's tooth is tempted to destroy ! 
 But Roys can never die — why else, in verity, 
 Is Paris echoing with " Vive le Roy P' 
 
 Ay, Rob shall live again, and deathless Di 
 Vernon, of course, shall often live again — 
 Whilst there's a stone in Newgate, or a chain. 
 
 Who can pass by 
 Nor feel the Thief s in prison and at hand ? 
 There be Old Bailey Jarveys on the stand ! 
 
 X. 
 
 1 like thy Landlord's Tales !— I like that Idol 
 Of love and Lammermoor — the blue-eyed maid 
 That led to church the mounted cavalcade. 
 
 And then pull'd up with such a bloody bridal ! 
 Throwing equestrian Hymen on his haunches-r— 
 I like the family — not silver, branches 
 That hold the tapers 
 
 To light the serious legend of Montrose. 
 I like M'Aulay's second-sighted vapours. 
 As if he could not walk or talk alone. 
 Without the devil^or the Great Unknown— 
 
 Dalgetty is the dearest of Ducrows ! 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. ' 30! 
 
 ' XI. 
 
 I like St. Leonard's Lily-:-drench'd with'dew ! 
 
 I like thy Vision of the Covenanters, 
 
 That bloody-minded Graham shot and slew. 
 
 I like the battle lost and won, 
 
 ,The hurly-burly's, bravely done. 
 The warlike gallops and the warlike canitxs ! 
 I like that girded chieftain of the ranters, 
 Ready to preach down heathens, or to grapple,, 
 
 With one eye on his swordi 
 
 And one upon the Word^ 
 How he would cram the Caledonian Chapel ! ' 
 I like stem Claverhouse, though he doth dapple 
 His raven steed with blood of many a corse^ — 
 I like dear Mrs. Headrigg, that unravels 
 
 Her texts of Scripture on a trotting horse — 
 She is so like Rae Wilson when he travels ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 1 like thy Kenilworth — but I'ni not going 
 
 To take a Retrospective Re- Review 
 Of all thy dainty novels— merely showing 
 
 The old familiar faces of a few, 
 The question to renew, 
 How thou canst leave such deeds without a name, 
 Forego the unclaim'd dividends of fame, 
 Forego the smiles of literary houris — 
 Mid Lothian's trump, and Fife's shrill iiote of praise, 
 
 And all the Carse of Cowrie's, 
 When thou might'st have thy statue in Cromarty — 
 
 Or see thy image on Italian trays,' 
 Betwixt Queen Caroline and Buonapartd, 
 
 Be painted by the Titian of R.A.'s, 
 Or vie in signboards with the Royal Quelph ! 
 
 Perhaps have thy bust set cheel: by jowl with Homer's, 
 Perhaps send out planter proxies of thyself 
 
 To other Englands with Australian roamers — 
 Mayhap, in literary Owhyhee 
 Displace the native wooden gods, or be 
 The China-Lar of a Canadian shelf! . 
 
 XIII. 
 
 It is Hot modesty that bids thee hide- 
 She never wastes her blushes out of sight ! 
 
 It is not to invite 
 The world's decision, for thy fame is tried, — 
 
302 ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 And thy fair deeds are scatter'd far and wide, 
 Even royal heads are with thy readers reckon'd, — 
 
 From men in trencher caps to trencher scholars 
 In crimson Collars, 
 And learned Serjeants in the forty-second ! 
 Whither by land or sea art thou not beckbn'd ? 
 , Mayhap exported from the Frith of Forth, 
 Defying distance and its dim control ; 
 
 Perhaps read about Stromness, and reckon'd worth 
 A brace of Miltons for capacious soul — 
 
 Perhaps studied in the whalers, further north, 
 And set above ten Shakespeares near the pole ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Oh, when thou writest by Aladdin's lamp, 
 With such a giant genius at command. 
 
 For ever at thy stamp, 
 To fill thy treasury from Fairy Land, 
 When haply thou might'st ask the pearly hand 
 Of some great British Vizier's eldest daughter, 
 
 Tho' princes sought her, 
 And lead her in procession hymeneal, 
 Oh, why dost thou remain a Beau Ideal ! 
 , Why stay, a ghost, "on the Lethean wharf, 
 Envelop'd in Scotch mist and gloomy fogs ? 
 Why, but because thou art ,some puny dwarf, , 
 Some hopeless imp, like Riquet with the Tuft, 
 Fearing," for all thy wit, to be rebuff'd. 
 Or bullied by our great reviewing Gogs ? 
 
 XV. 
 
 What in this masquing age 
 Maketh Unknowns so many and so shy ? 
 
 What but the critic's page ? 
 One hath a cast, he hides from the world's eye. 
 Another hath a wen — he won't show where ; 
 
 A third has sandy hair, 
 A hunch upon his back, or legs awry. 
 Things for a vile reviewer to espy ! 
 Another hath a mangel-wurzel nose — 
 
 Finally, this is dimpled, 
 Like a pale crumpet face, or that is pimpled ; 
 Things for a monthly critic to expose — 
 Nay, what is thy own case— that being small, 
 Thou choosest to be nobody at all ! 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. 303 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Well, thou art prudent, witH such puny bones — 
 E'en like Elshender, the mysterious elf, 
 That shadowy revelation of thyself — 
 To build thee a small hut of haunted stones — 
 For certainly the first pernicious man 
 That ever saw thee, would quickly draw thee 
 In some vile literary caravan — 
 Shown for a shilling 
 Would be thy killing. 
 Think of Crachami's miserable span ! 
 No tinier frame the tiny spark could dwell in 
 
 Than there it fell in — 
 But when she felt herself a show, she tried 
 To shrink from the world's eye, p<3or dwarf ! and died ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 O sinceHt was thy fortune to be born 
 A dwarf on some Scotch Inch, and then to flinch 
 From all the Gog-like jostle of great men. 
 
 Still with thy small crow pen 
 Amuse and charm thy lonely hours forlorn — . 
 
 Still Scottish story daintily adorn, 
 
 Be still a shade — and when this age is fled. 
 When we poor sons and daughters of reality 
 Are in our graves forgotten and quite dead, 
 And Time destroys our mottoes of morality. 
 The Uthographic hand of Old Mortality _ 
 Shall still restore thy emblem on the stone, 
 
 A featureless death's head, 
 And rob Oblivion ev'n of the Unknown ! 
 
 TO SYLVANUS URBAN, ESQUIRE, 
 
 EDITOR OF THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE. 
 
 Dost thou not suspect my years ? — 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing. 
 
 Oh ! Mr. Urban ! nevermust thou lurch 
 A sober age made serious drunk by thee ; 
 
 Hop in thy pleasant way from church to church, 
 And nurse thy little bald Biography. 
 
30+ . ODES AND ADDRESSES, 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, my Sylvanus ! what a heart is thine ! 
 
 And what a pa,ge attends.th^e ! Long may I 
 Hang in demure confusion o'er each line 
 
 That asks thy little questions with a sigh ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Old tottering years have nodded to their falls, 
 Like pensioners that creep about and die ; 
 
 But thou, Old Parr of periodicals, 
 Livest in monthly immortality ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 How sweet ! — as Byron of his infant said, — , 
 "Knowledge of objects " in thine eye to trace j 
 
 To see the mild no -meanings of thy head, 
 Taking a quiet nap upon thy face ! 
 
 How dear through thy Obituary to roam, 
 And not a name of any name to catch ! 
 
 To meet thy Criticistti walking home 
 Averse from rows, and never calling " Watch ! " 
 
 VI. ' 
 
 Rich is thy page in soporific things, — 
 Composing comp6sition&,^ulling men, — 
 
 Faded old posies of unburied rings, — 
 Confessions dozing from an opiate pen :— 
 
 VII. 
 
 Lives of Right Reverends that have never liVd, — 
 Deaths of good people that have really died, — 
 
 Parishioners,^-hatch'd, husbanded, and wiv'd, — 
 Bankrupts and Abbots breaking side by side ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The sacred query, — the reiriote response,— 
 ' The march of serious mind, extremely slow,— 
 The graver's cut at some right aged sconce, 
 Famous for nothing many years ago I 
 
 IX. 
 B. asks of C. if Milton e'er did write 
 
 " Conius," obscured beneath some Ludlow lid ; — 
 And C, next month, an answer doth indite. 
 
 Informing B. that Mr, Milton did ! 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. 30; 
 
 X. sends the portrait of a genuine flea, 
 Caught upon Martin Luther years agone; . I 
 
 And Mr. Parkes, of Shrewsbury, draws a bee, 
 Long dead, that gather'd honey for King John. 
 
 , XI. 
 
 There is no end of thee, — there is no end, 
 
 Sylvarius, of thy A, B, C, D-merits ! 
 Thou dost, with alphabets, old walls attend, 
 
 And poke the letters into holes, hke ferrets,' 
 
 XII. 
 
 Go on, Sylvanus ! — Be&,r a wary eye. 
 The churches, cannot yet be quite run out ! 
 
 Some parishes inust yet have been pass'd by,— 
 There's Bullock- Smithy has a church no doubt ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Go on — and close the eyes of distant ages ! 
 
 Nourish the names of the undoubted dead ! 
 So epicures shall pick thy lobster-pages. 
 
 Heavy and lively, though but seldom red. 
 
 _ XIV. • 
 
 Go on ! and thrive ! Demurest of odd fellows ! 
 
 Bottling up dulness in an ancient binn !' 
 Still live ! still prose ! — continue still to tell us 
 
 Old truths ! no strangers, though we take them in ! 
 
 AN ADDRESS TO THE STEAM WASHING 
 COMPANY. 
 
 Arcjier. How many are there, Scrub ? 
 ■ , Scrub. Five-and-forty, Sir.— Beaux Stratagem. 
 
 For shame — let the linen alone ! — M. W. of Windsor. 
 
 Mr. Scrub — Mr. Slop — or whoever you be ! 
 ■fhC' Cock of Steam Laundries, — the head Patentee 
 Of Associate Cleansers,— .chief founder and prime 
 Of the firm f6r the wholesale distilling of griihe — 
 Co-partners and dealers, in linen's propriety — ' ;:; 
 That make washing puTDlic — and wash in society^ 
 
3o6 ODES AND ADDRESSES. , 
 
 ' O lend me your ear ! if that ear can forego, , 
 For a moment, the music that bubbles below, — 
 From your new Surrey Geisers* all foaming and hot,-T 
 That soft " simmer's sang" sp endear'd to the Scot-^ 
 If your hands may stand still, or your steam without danger- 
 If your suds will not cool, and a mere simple stranger, 
 ,Both to you and to washing, may put in a rub — 
 O wipe out your Amazon arms from the tub — 
 And lend me your ear, — Let me modestly plead 
 For a race that your labours may soon supersede — 
 For a race that, now washing no living- affords^ 
 
 ' Like Grimaldi must leave their aquatic old boards, 
 Not with pence in their pockets to keep them, at ease, 
 Not with bread in the funds — or investments of cheese — * 
 But to droop like sad willows that liv'd by a stream, 
 Which the sun has suck'd up into vapour and steam. 
 Ah, look at the laundress, before you begriidge 
 Her hard daily bread to that laudable drudge ; 
 When chanticleer sihgeth his earliest matins. 
 She slips her amphibious feet in her pattens, 
 And beginneth her toil while the morn is still grey, 
 As if she was washing the night into day — 
 Not with sleeker or rosier fingers Aurora 
 Beginneth to scatter the dewdrops before her ; 
 Not Venus that rose from the billow so early, 
 Look'd down on the foam with a forehead more pearly^ — 
 Her head is involVd in an aerial mist, 
 Ahd a bright-beaded bracelet encircles her wrist ; 
 Her visage glows warm with the ardour of duty ; 
 She's Industry's moral — she's all moral beauty ! 
 Growing brighter and brighter at every rub — 
 Would any man ruin her ? No, Mr. Scrub ! 
 No man that is manly would work her mishap — 
 1^0 man that is manly would cOvet her cap — 
 Nor her apron — her hose — nor her gown made of stuff — 
 Nor her gin, nor her tea, nor her wet pinch of sr.uff 1 
 Alas ! so she thought, but that slippery hope 
 Has betrayed her, as tho' she had trod on her soap ! 
 And she — whose support, like thefishes that fly, 
 Was to have her fins wet, must now drop from her sky ; 
 She whose living it was, and a part of her fare. 
 To be damp'd once a day, like the great white sea bear, 
 With her hands like a sponge, and her head like a moi — 
 Quite a living absorbent that revell'd in slop — 
 ■ She that paddled in water, must walk upon sand. 
 And sigh for her deeps like a turtle on land ! 
 
 * Geisers, the boiling springs in Iceland, 
 t Querjj, fnrly f— Printer's Devil. 
 
ODES AlstD ADDRESSES. , 307- 
 
 Lo, then, the poor laundress; all wretched she stands, 
 Instead of a counterpane, wringing her hands ! ' 
 All haggard and pinch'd, going down in life's vale, 
 With no faggot for burning, like AUan-a-dale ! 
 No smoke from her flue— and no steam from her pane, 
 Where once she watch'd heaven, fearing God and the rain— 
 Or gaz'd o'er her bleach-field so fairly engross'd. 
 Till the Unes wander'd idle from pillar to post ! 
 Ah, where are the playful young pinners — ah, where 
 The harlequin quilts that cut capers in air-^ 
 The brisk waltzing stockings— the white and the black. 
 That danc'd on the tight-rope, or swung on the slacks 
 The light sylph-like garments, so tenderly pinn'd. 
 That blew into shape, and embodied the wind ! 
 There was white on the grass — there was white on the spray — 
 Her garden^t look'd like a garden of May ! 
 But now all is dark — not a shirt's on a shrub — 
 You've ruin'd her prospects in life, Mr. Scrijb ! 
 You've ruin'd her custom — now families drop her= — 
 From her silver reduc'd — nay, reduc'd from her copper ! 
 The last of her washing is done at her eye, 
 One poor little 'kerchief that never gets dry ! 
 From mere lack of linen she can't lay a cloth, 
 And boils neither barley nor alkaline broth ; 
 But her children come round her as victuals grow scant. 
 And recall, with foul faces, the source of their want — 
 When she thinks of their poor little mouths to be fed. 
 And then thinks of her trade that is utterly dead, 
 And even its pearlashes laid in the grave — 
 Whilst her tub is a dry rotting, stave after stave, 
 And the greatest of coopers, eW he that they dub 
 Sir Astley, can't bind up her heart or her tub, — 
 Need you wonder she curses your bones, Mr. Scrub ! 
 Need you wonder, when steam has depriVd her of bread, 
 If she prays that the evil may visit ^««r head — 
 ' Nay, scald all the heads of your Washing Committee — 
 If she wishes you all the soot blacks of the city — 
 In short, not to mention all plagues without number, 
 If she wishes you all in the Wash at the Humber ! 
 
 Ah, perhaps, in some moment of drowth and despair. 
 When her linen got scarce, and her washing grew rare— 
 When the sum of her suds might be summ'd in a bowl. 
 And the rusty cold iron quite enter'd her soul — 
 When, perhaps, the last glance of her wandering eye 
 Had caught the " Cock Laundresses' Coach " going by, 
 Or her lines that hung idle, to waste the fine weather. 
 And she thought of her wrongs and her rights both together,. 
 
368 OD£S, AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 In a lather of passion that froth'd as it rose, 
 
 Too angly for granimar, too lofty for prose, 
 
 On her sheet — if a sheet wfere still left her — to write, , 
 
 Soine remonstrance like this then, perqhance, saw ,the light — 
 
 LETTER OF REMONSTRANCE 
 
 FROM BRIDGET JONES, 
 
 TO THE NOBLEMEN ANP GENTLEMEN FORMING THE WASHING 
 COMMITTEE. ' 
 
 It's a shame, so it is, — men can't Let alone ' ' , 
 
 Jobs as is Woman's right, to do — and go about there O^n-^. 
 Theirs Reforms enuff Alreddy without your new schools 
 For washing to sit Up, — and push the Old Tubs from their 
 
 stools ! 
 But your jus't like the Raddicals,-^for upsetting of the Sudds, 
 When the world wagged well enuff — and Wommen washed 
 
 your old dirty .duds, 
 I'm Certain sure Enuff your Ann Sisters had no stream Ingins, 
 
 that's Fla:t,— * , 
 
 But I Warrant your Four Fathers went as tidy and gentlemanny , 
 
 for all that— 
 I suppose your the Family as lived in the Great Kittle 
 I see on Clapham Commun, some times a very considerable 
 
 period back when I were little, 
 And they Said it went with Steem, — But that was a joke ! 
 For I never see none come of it, — that's out of it — but only 
 
 sum Smoak— 
 And for All your Power of Horses about your Ingins you never 
 
 had but Two 
 In my time to draw you About to Fairs — and curse you, you 
 
 know that's true ! 
 And for All your fine Perspectuses, — howsomever youbewhicli . 
 
 'em, 
 Theirs as Pretty ones off Primerows Hill, as ever a one at 
 
 Mitchum, 
 Thof I cant sea What Prospectives and washiiig ha^ with one 
 
 another to Do — 
 It aant as if a Bird'seye Hankicher can take a Bird'shigh.view !. 
 But Thats your lookout— I've not much to do with that— But 
 
 pleas God to hold up fine, 
 Id showyou caps and pinners and small things as lillywhit as 
 
 Ever crosst the Line 
 Without going any Father off then Little Parodies Place, 
 And Thats more than you Can—and 111 say it behind yout 
 
 face — 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. 309 
 
 But when Folks talks of washing, it ant for you too Speak,— 
 As kept Dockter Pattyson out of his Shirt for a We^ak ! ' 
 Thinks I, when I heard it— Well thear's a Pretty go ! 
 That comes o' not marking of things, or washing out the marks, 
 
 "and Huddling 'em up so ! 
 Till Their friends comes and owns them, like drownded corpeses 
 
 in a Vault, 
 But may Hap you havint Larn'd to spel— and that ant your 
 
 , Fault. 
 Only you ought to leafe the Linnens to them as has larn'd, — 
 For if it warnt for Washing, — and ^^halre Bills is concarnd 
 What's the Yuse, of all the world, for a Wommans Edica- 
 
 tion, 
 And Their Being maid SchoUards of Sundays — fit for any 
 
 Cityation. 1 
 
 Well, what I says is This— when every Kittle has its spout, 
 Theirs no nead for Companysto puff steam about ! 
 To be sure its very Well, when Their ant enuff Wind 
 For blowing up Boats with, — but not to hurt human kind 
 Like that Pearkins with his Blunderbush, that's loaded with 
 
 hot water, 
 Thof a Sheriff might know Better, than make things for 
 
 slaughter. 
 As if War warnt Cruel enuff— wherever it befalls, 
 Without shooting poor sogers, with sich scalding hot washing 
 
 balls, — 
 But thats not so Bad as a Sett of Bear Faced Scrubbs' 
 As joins their Sopes together, and sits up Stream rubbing 
 
 Clubs, .1 
 For washing Dirt Cheap, — and eating other Peple's grubs ! 
 Which is all verry Fine for you and your Patent Tea, 
 But I wonders How Poor Wommen is to get Their Bo-He ! 
 They must drink Hunt wash (the only wash God nose there 
 
 will be!) 
 And their Little drop of Somethings as they takes for their 
 
 Goods, 
 When you and your Steam has ruined (G — d forgive mee !) 
 
 their lively Hoods, 
 Poor Women as was born to Washing in their youth ! 
 And now must go and Larn other Buisnesses Four Sooth ! 
 But if so be They leave their Lines what are they to go at^— 
 They won't do for Angell's — nor any Trade like That, 
 Nor we cant Sow Babby Work, — for that's all Bespoke, — 1 
 For the Queakers in Bridle ! and a vast of the confind Folk 
 Do their own of Themselves — even the bettermost of em- 
 aye, and even them of niiddling degrees- 
 Why God help you Babby Linen ant Bread and, Cheese ! 
 
310 • ODES AND ADDRESSES. , 
 
 Nor we can't go a hammering the roads into Dust, , 
 
 But we must -all go arid be Bankers>— and that's what we- 
 
 must! 
 God nose you oght to have more Concern for our Sects, 
 When you nose you have suck'd us and hanged round our 
 
 Mutherly necks, 
 And remembers what you Owes to Wommen Besides wash- 
 ing — 
 You ant, curse you, like Men to go a slushing and sloshmg 
 In mob caps, and pattins, adoin'g of Females Labers 
 And prettily jear'd At you great Horse God Meril things, ant 
 
 you now by you next door neighbours — 
 Lawk I thinks I see you with your Sleaves tuckt up 
 No more like Washing than is drownding of a Pupp — 
 And for all Your Fine Water Works going round and round 
 They'll gcruntch your Bone^ some day — I'll be bound 
 And no more nor be a gudgement,— for it cant come to good 
 To sit up agin Providince, which your a doing, — nor not fit It 
 
 should, 
 For man warnt maid for Wommens starvation, 
 Nor to do away Laundrisses as js Links of Creation — 
 And cant be dun without in any Country But a Hpttinpot 
 
 Nation. 
 Ah, I wish our Minister would take one of your Tubbs 
 And preach a Sermon in it, and give you some good rubs— 
 But I warrants you reads (for you cant spel we nose)'nayther 
 
 Bybills or Good Tracks, 
 Or youd know better than Taking the Close off one's Backs — 
 And let your neighbours oxin and Asses alone, — ■ 
 And every Thing thats hern, — and give every one their Hone 1 
 
 Well, its God for us All, and every Washer Wommen for 
 herself. 
 And so you might, without shoving aiiy on us off the shelf, 
 But if you warnt Noddis youd Let wommen abe 
 And pull off Your Pattins, — and leave the washing to we 
 That nose what's what — Or mark what I say, 
 > Youl make a fine Kittle of fish of Your Close some Day — 
 When the Aulder men wants Their Bibs and their ant nun 
 
 at all, 
 And Crist mass cum — and never a Cloth to lay in Gild Hall, . 
 Or send a damp shirt to his Woship the Mare 
 Till hes rumatiz Poor Man, and cant setuprite in his Chare — 
 ' Besides Miss-Matching Larned Ladys Hose, as is sent for 
 
 you not to wash (for you dont wash) but to stew , . 
 
 And make I'eples Stockins yeller as oght to be Blew 
 With a vast more like That, — and all along of Steam 
 Which warnt meand by Nater for any sich skeam — 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. 31 j 
 
 But thats your Losses and youl have to make It Good, 
 And I cant say I'm Sorry afore God if you shoud, 
 For mea moiight Get their Bread a great many ways 
 Without taking ourn, — aye, and Moor to your Prays 
 If You Was even to Turn Dust Men a dry sifting Dirt, 
 ,But you oughtint to Hurt Them as never Did You no Hurt ! 
 Yourn with Anymocity, 
 
 Bridget Jones. 
 
 ■ . ODE TO R. W. ELLISTON, ESQUIRE, 
 
 THE GREAT LESSEE ! 
 
 Rover. Do you know, you villain, that I am this moment the greatest 
 nan living P^-Wif-D Oats. 
 
 Oh ! Great Lessee ! Great Manager ! Great Man ! 
 Oh, Lord High EUiston ! Immortal Pan 
 Of all the pipes that play in Drury Lane ! 
 Macready's master ! Westminster's high Dane ! 
 As Galway Martin, in the House's walls, 
 ■Hamlet and Doctor Ireland justly calls! 
 Friend to the sweet and ever-smiling Spring ! 
 Magician of the lamp and prompter's ring ! 
 Drury's Aladdin ! Whipper-in of Actors, 
 Kicker of rebel-preface-malefactors ! 
 Glass-blowers' corrector ! King of the cheque-taker ! 
 At once Great Leamington and Winston-Maker ! 
 Dramatic Bolter of plain Bunns and cakes ! 
 In silken hose^^ most reform'd of Rakes / 
 Oh, Lord High Elliston ! lend me an ear ! 
 (Poole is away, and Williams shall keep clear) 
 While I, in litt\e slips of prose, not verse. 
 Thy splendid course, as pattern-work, rehearse ! 
 
 Bright was thy youth — thy manhood brighter still — 
 The greatest Romeo upon Holborn Hill — 
 Lightest comedian of the pleasant day, 
 When Jordan threw her sunshine o'er a play ! 
 But these, though happy,' were but subject times, 
 And no man cares for bottom-steps that climbs — 
 Far from my wish it is to stifle down 
 TJie hours that saw thee snatch the Surrey crown ! 
 
312' ., ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 Thd' now thy hand a mightier sceptre wields, 
 Fair was thy reign in sweet St. George's Fields. 
 Dibdin was Premier — and a golden age 
 For a short time enrich'd the subject stage. 
 Thou hadst, than other Kings, more peace-and-pl6nty ; 
 Ours but one Bench could boa,st, but thou hadst twenty ; 
 But the times changed— and Booth-acting no more 
 Drew Rulers' shiUings to the gallery door. 
 ' Thou didst, with bag and baggage, wander thence, 
 Repentant, like thy neighbour Magdalens ! 
 
 in. 
 
 Next, the Olympic Games were tried, each feat - , 
 
 Practis'd, the most bewitching iri Wych Street, 
 
 Charles had his royal ribaldry restor'd, ^ 
 
 And in a downright neighbourhood drank and whor'd ; 
 
 Rochester there in dirty ways again 
 
 Revell'd — and liv'd once more in Drury Lane ; 
 
 But thou, R. W, ! kept thy moral ways. 
 
 Pit -lecturing 'twixt the farces and the plays, ! 
 
 A lamplight Irving to the butcher boys 
 
 That soil'd the benches and that made a noise : — 
 
 " You, — in the back ! — can scarcely hear a line ! 
 
 Down from those benches — butcher's — they are mine ! " 
 
 ly. 
 
 Lastly— and thou wert built for it by nature ! — 
 Crown'd was thy head in Drury Lane Theatre ! 
 Gentle George Robins saw that it was good. 
 And renters clucVd around thee in a brood. 
 King thou wert made of Drury and Of Kean ! 
 Of many a lady and of many a Quean ! 
 With Poole and Larpent was thy reign begun-^ 
 But now thou turnest from the Dead and Dun, 
 Hook's in thine eye, to write thy plays, no doubt, 
 And Colman lives to' cut the damnlet's out ! 
 Oh, \yorthy of the house ! the King's commission ! 
 Isn't thy condition " a most bless'd condition ? " 
 Thou reignest over Winston, Kean, and all 
 The very lofty and the very small — 
 Showest the plumbless Bunn the way to kick — 
 Keepest a Williams for thy veriest stick — 
 Seest a Vestris in her sweetest moments. 
 Without the danger of newspaper comments— 
 Tellest Macready, as none dared before, 
 Thine open mind from the half-open door ! — 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. , jij 
 
 (Alas ! , I fear he has left Melpomene's crowns 
 
 To be a Boniface in Buxtpn town !) — ■ 
 
 Thou hold'st the watch, as half-price people know, > 
 >And callest to them, to a moment, " Go ! " 
 
 Teachest the sapient Sapio how to sing — 
 \HaTigest a cat most oddly by the wing^ 
 
 Hast known the length of a Cubitt-foot^and kiss'd 
 
 The pearly whiteness of a Stephens' wrist— 
 
 Kissing and pitying — tender and humane ! 
 
 " By heaven she loves me ! Oh, it is too plain ! " 
 
 A sigh like this thy trembling passion slips, 
 
 Dimpling the warm Madeira at thy lips ! 
 
 y. 
 
 Go on, Lessee 1 Go on, and prosper well ! 
 Fear not, though forty glass-blowers should rebel — 
 Show them how thou hast long befriended them, 
 And teach Dubois their treason to condernn ! 
 Go on ! addressing pits in prose and worse ! 
 Be long, be slow, be, anything but terse — 
 Kiss to the, gallery the hanji that's glov'd-7- 
 Make Bunn the Great, and Winston the Belov'd, 
 Go oh — and but in this reverse the thing, 
 Walk backward with wax lights before the King — 
 Go on ! Spring ever in thine eye ! Go on ! 
 Hope's favourite child ! ethereal EUiston ! 
 
 ODE TO RICHARD MARTIN, ESQUIRE, 
 
 M.P. FOR GALWAY. 
 I. 
 
 How many sing of wars, 
 
 Of Greek and Trojan jars — 
 
 The butcheries of meh ! 
 the Muse hath a "P'erpetual Ruby Pen !" 
 Dabbling with heroes and the blood they spill ; 
 
 But nb one sings the man 
 
 That, like a pelican, 
 Nourishes Pity with his tendei: Bill ! 
 
 Thotj Wilberforce of hacks ! 
 t)f whites els well as blacks; 
 
314 ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 Piebald and dapple gray, ^ 
 Chestnut and bay — - 
 No poet's eulogy' thy name adorns ! 
 But oxen, from the fens, 
 Sheep — in their pens, 
 Praise thee, and red cows with their winding hortls ! 
 Thou art sung on brutal pipfes ! 
 Drovers may curse thee, 
 Knackers asperse thee, 
 And sly M.P.'s bestow their cruel wipes ; 
 But the old horse neighs thee, 
 And zebras praise' thee, 
 Asses, I mean — that have as many stripes ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Hast thou not taught the drover to forbear, 
 
 Jn Smithfield's muddy, murderous, vile environ, — 
 
 Staying his lifted bludgeon in the air ! 
 
 Bullocks don't wear 
 
 Oxide of iron ! 
 The cruel Jarvy thou hast summon'd oft, 
 Enforcing mercy on the coarse Yahoo, 
 That thought his horse the courser of the two^ 
 
 Whilst Swift smiled down aloft ! — 
 O worthy pair ! for this, when ye inhabit 
 Bodies of birds — (if so the spirit shifts 
 From flesh to feather)— when the clown uplifts 
 His hand against the sparrow's nest, to grab \t, — 
 He shall not harm the Martins and the Swifts ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah ! when Dean Swift was quick, how he enhanc'd 
 Tie horse! — and humbled biped man like Plato ! 
 
 But now -he'i dead, the charger is mischanc'd 
 
 Gone backward in the world — and not advanc'd,^ 
 
 Remember Cato ! 
 Swift was the horse's champion — not the King's, 
 
 Whom Southey sings. 
 Mounted on Pegasus — would he were thrown ! 
 He'll wear that ancient hackney to the bone. 
 Like a mere clothes-horse airing royal things ! 
 Ah well-a-dayj the ancients did not use 
 Their steeds so cruelly ! — let it debar men ■ 
 From wanton rowelling and whip's abuse "— 
 Look at the ancients' Mtcse ! 
 
 Look at their Carmen / 
 
ODES AND ADDREISSES. ' 31 S 
 
 O, Martin ! how thine eye- 
 That one would thinlc had put aside its lashes, — 
 ^That can't bear gashes 
 Thro' any horse's side, must ache to spy 
 That horrid window fronting Fetter Lane, — • 
 For there's a nag the crows have pick'd for victual, 
 Or some man painted in a bloody vein — • 
 Gods !, is there no Horse-spital \ 
 That such raw shows must sicken the humane ! 
 Sure Mr. Whittle 
 Loves thee but little, 
 'To let that poor horse linger in his pane ! 
 
 VI. • 
 
 O build a Brookes's Theatre for horses ! 
 O wipe awa.y the national reproach — 
 
 And find a decent Vvilture for their corses ! 
 - And in thy funeral track 
 Four sorry steeds shall follow in each coach ! 
 
 Steeds that confess " the luxury of wo 1 " 
 True mourning steads, in no extempore black, 
 
 And many a wretched hack 
 Shall sorrow for thee, — sore with kick and blow 
 And bloody gash — it is the Indian knack — 
 (Save that the savage is his own tormentor)^ — 
 Banting shall weep tbo, in his sable scarf — 
 The biped woe the quadruped shall enter, 
 
 And Man and Horse go half and half, 
 As if their griefs met in a common Centaur ! 
 
 ODE TO W. KITCHENER, M.D. 
 
 Author of the Cook's Oracle — Oiservatiojis on Vocal Music — the Art Of 
 Invigorating and Prolonging Life — Practical Observations on Telescopes^ 
 Opera Glasses, and Spectacles — the Housekeeper's Ledger — and the Pleasure 
 cf Making a Will. , ' ,1 
 
 I rule the roast, as Milton says !— Caleb Quotem. 
 
 Hail ! multifarious man ! 
 Thou Wondrous, Admirable Kitchen Crichton ! 
 Born to enlighten 
 
3! 6 ODES AND ADDRESSES., 
 
 The laws of optics, peptics, music, cooking- 
 Master of the piano — and the pan — 
 As busy with the kitchen as the skies ! 
 
 Now looking' 
 At some rich §tew thro' Galileo's' eyes, 
 Or boiling eggs— timed to a mfetronome— 
 
 As much at home 
 In spectacles as iij mere isinglass — 
 In the art of frying browh-^as a digression 
 On music and poetical expression, — 
 Whereas,^ how few of all our cooks, alas ! 
 Could tell Calliope from " Calliopee ! " 
 
 How few there be ' • 
 Could leave the lowest for the highest stories, 
 
 (ObservatorieSj) 
 And turn, like thee, Diana's calculator, 
 However C(7(J^j synonymous with Kater/* 
 
 Alas! still let me say, 
 
 How few could lay 
 The carving-knife beSide the tuning-fork. 
 Like the proverbial Jack ready for any work ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, to behold thy features in thy book ! 
 Thy proper head and shoulders in a plate, 
 
 How it would look ! 
 With one rais'd eye watching the dial's date, 
 And one upon the roast, gently cast down — 
 
 Thy chops — done nicely brown — 
 The gamish'd brow — with "a few leaves of bay " — 
 
 The hair — " done Wiggy's way ! " 
 And stiU one studious finger near thy brains, 
 
 As if thou wert just come 
 
 From editing some 
 New soup — or hashing Dibdin's cold remains ! 
 Or, Orpheus-like— fresh from thy dying strains 
 Of musicr— Epping luxuries of sound, 
 
 As Milton says, '" in niany a bout 
 
 Of linked sweetness long drawn out,'' 
 Whilsti all thy tame stufi'd leopards listen'd round ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Oh, rather thy whole proper length reveal. 
 Standing like Fortune, — on the jack — thy wheel. 
 
 • Captain Kater, the Moon's Surveyor. 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. 317 
 
 (Tljoij art, like Fortune, full of chops and changes, 
 Thou hast a fillet too before thine pye !) , 
 Scanning our kitchen, and our vodal ranges, 
 As tho'it were the same to sing or fry — 
 Nay, so it is — hear how Miss Paten's throJat 
 
 Makes " fritters " of a note '! 
 And- is not reading neai* akin to feeding, 
 ' Or why should Oxford, sausages be fit 
 
 Receptacles for wit ? ' 
 
 Or why should Carpbridge put its little, smart, 
 Minc'd brains into a tart ? 
 Nay, then, thou wert but wise to frame 'receipts. 
 
 Book-treats, 
 Equally to instruct the cobk and cram her— 
 Receipts to be devonr'd, as well, as read. 
 The culinary art in gingerbread— ~ 
 The Kitchen's Eaten Grammar ! 
 
 ■ , ■ .^ IV. 
 
 Oh, veiry pleasant is thy motley page — 
 
 Ay, very pleasant in its chatty vein — 
 
 So^n a kitchen — would have talk'd Montaigne, 
 That merry Gascon — humorist, and sage ! 
 Let slepder minds with single thenles engage, 
 
 Like Mr. Bovtle? with his eternal Pope,— 
 Or Lovelass upon Wills, — thou goest on 
 Plaiting ten topics', like Tate Wilkirisbh ! 
 
 Thy brain is like a rich kaleidoscope, 
 StufPd with a brilliant medley of odd bits, 
 ■ And ever shifting on from change to change, 
 Saucepans— old songs — pills — spectacles-rand spits ! 
 
 Thy range is wider' than a Rumford range ! 
 Th;f grasp a miracle !-^till I recall 
 Th' indubiyble cause of thy Variety — 
 Thou art, of course, th' epitome of all 
 That spying — frying — singing— mix'd Society 
 Of Scientific Friends, who used to' meet 
 Welsh Rabbits — and thyself— in Warren' Street ! 
 
 Oh, hiast thou still those conversazioni, , 
 Where learned visitors discoursed- and.fed.'^' 
 
 There came Belzoni, 
 Fresh 'from the ashes of Egyptian dead — , 
 And gentle ,Poki — and that royal pair, 
 Of \Vh6m-thou -didst declare— 
 
3i8 ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 " Thanks to the, greatest' Cooke we ever read — 
 They were— what Sandwiches should be— half bred/ " 
 There fam'd M'Adam from his manual toil ' ' 
 Relax'd — and freely own'd he took thy hints 
 
 ' On " making broth, -mth. flints " — 
 There Parry came, and show'd the polar oil 
 For melted butter — Coombe with his medullary 
 
 Notions about the scullery. 
 And Mr. Poole, too partial to a broil — 
 There witty Rogers came, that punning elf ! 
 Who used to swear thy book 
 Would really look 
 A Delphic " Oracle," if laid on Delf— 
 There, once a month, came Campbell and' discuss'd , 
 His own — and tby own — ^' Magazine of Taste "— 
 
 There Wilberforce the Just 
 Came, in his old black suit, till once he trac'd 
 Thy sly advice to poachers of black folks, 
 That " do not break ^wc yolks 1'-^ — 
 Which huiFd him home, in grave disgust and haste ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 .. ■ .< 
 There came John Clare, the poet, nor forbore 
 Thy patties — thou wert hand-and-glove with Moore, 
 Who call'd thee Kitchen Addison— rior why ? 
 Thou givest rules for health and peptic pills, 
 Forms fpr made dishes, and receipts for wills, 
 " Teaching us how to live and how to die! " 
 
 There came thy cousin-cook, good Mrs. Fry 
 
 There Trench, the Thames projector, first brought on 
 
 His sine Quay non, — 
 There Martin would drop in on Monday eyes 
 Or Fridays, from the pens, and' raise his breath 
 
 'Gainst cattle days and death, — 
 
 Answer'd by MeUish, feeder of fat beeves, 
 
 Who swore that Frenchmen never could be eager 
 
 For fightipg on soup meagre — 
 
 "And yet (as thou wouldst add) the French have seen 
 
 A Marshal Tureen/" 
 
 VII. 
 
 Great was thy evening cluster ! — often grac'd , 
 With DoUond— Burgess— and Sir Humphry Davy ! 
 
 'Twas there-M'Dermot first inchn'd to taste 
 
 There Colburn learn'd the art of making paste 
 For puffs— and Accum analysed a gravy. 
 
ODES AND ADDRESSES. ' 319 
 
 Colman, the cutter of Colman Street, 'tis said 
 Came, there, and Parkins with his Ex- wise-head, 
 (His claim to letters)— Kater, too, the Moon's 
 Crony, — and Graham, lofty on balloons, 
 There Croly stalk'd with holy humour heated, 
 (Who wrote a light-horse play, which Yates completed), 
 
 And Lady Morgan, that grinding organ. 
 And Brasbridge telling anecdotes of spoons, 
 Madame Valbr^que thrice honour'd thee, and came 
 With great Rossini, his own bow and fiddle, — 
 And even Irving spar'd a night from fame. 
 And talk'd — till, thou didst stop him in the middle. 
 To serve round Tewah-diddle ! * 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then all the guests rose up, and sighed good-bye ! 
 So let them :^thou thyself art still a Host ! 
 Dibdin — Cornaro— Newton— Mrs. Fry ! 
 Mrs. Glasse — Mr. Spec ! — Lovelass— -and Weber, 
 Mathews in Quotem — Moore's, fire-worshipping 
 Gheber — 
 Thrice-worthy worthy ! seem by thee engross'd ! 
 Howbeit the peptic cook stiU rules the roast. 
 Potent to hush all ventriloquial snarling, — 
 , And ease the bosom pangs of indigestion ! 
 
 Thou art, sans question. 
 The Corporation's love — its Doctor Darling ! 
 Look at the civic palate — nay, the bed 
 Which set dear Mrs. Opie on supplying 
 " Illustrations of Lying.'" 
 Ninety square feet of down from heel to head 
 
 It measured, and I dread 
 Was haunted by a terrible night Mare, 
 A monstrous burthen on the corporation ! — 
 Look at the bill of fare, for one day's share. 
 Sea-turtles by the score — oxen by droves. 
 Geese, turkeys, by the flock — fishes and loaves 
 
 Countless, as when the Lilliputian nation 
 Was making up the huge rnan-mountain's ration ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Oh ! worthy Doctor 1 surely thou hast driven 
 The squatting demon from great Garratt's breast — 
 
 (His honour seems to rest ! — ) » 
 
 And what is thy reward .? — Hath London given 
 
 • The Doctor's composition for a nightcap. 
 
320 ODES AND ADDRESSES. 
 
 Thee public thanks for thy important service? 
 
 Alas ! not even 
 The tokens it bestow'd on Howe and Jervis ! — 
 Yet' could I speak as orators should speak 
 Before the worshipful the Common Council 
 (Utter my bold bad grammar and pronounce ill), 
 Thou shouldst not miss thy freedom, for a week, 
 Richly engross'd On velluih' '. — Reason urges 
 That hie who Jrules our cookery — that he 
 Who edits soups and gravies, ought to be 
 A Citisen, wherfe sauce can make a Burgess ! 
 
 THE, END. 
 
 FEINTED BY BALLANTYKE, HANSON AND CO. 
 LONDON AND EDIHBUEGK 
 
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 ■illustration'^. 
 
 60 Campbell's Poetical Works. ,'> 
 
 61 Lamb's Tales from Shakspeare. . , ,. 
 
 62 Comic Poets of the Nineteenth Centuiy., ', 'i 
 
 63 The Arabian Night's Entertainments, ' 
 
 64 The Adventures of Don Quixote. ^ 
 
 ' 65 The Adventures of Gil Bks, translated by Smollett. 
 
 66 Pope's Homer's Ilisid and Odyssey, complete in one vol. " 
 
 67 Defoe's Journal of the PlagjieYear arid Some Account of the Great 
 
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 68 Wordsworth's Poetical Works. ' , 
 
 69 Goldsmith, Smollett, Johnson, and Shenstone, in i yoL . 
 
 70 Ed|[eworth's Moral Tjiles and Popular Tales, in i vrf. ; , 
 
 71 "rhe Seven Champions of Christendom. . , , - 
 
 72 Thetillai'of Fire,byRev.J. H. Ingraham. • . , 
 
 73 The ThroBe of David, by Rev. J.' H.,Ingraham. 
 
 74 Barriers Burned Away, by the Key. El P. Ro«. 
 
 75 Soutbey's Poetical Works. ,1 
 
 76 Chaucer's Poems. - 
 
 77 The Book of British Ballads, edited by S. C. Hall. ' , ' 
 
 78 Sandford and Merton, with 60 illustrations. 
 
 -79 The Swiss Family Robinson, with 60 illustratioaa. / 
 
 ■86 Todd's Student's Manual. 
 
 81 Hawker's Morning Portion. ; , 
 
 82 Hawker's Evening Portion. 
 
 83 Holmes' (O. W.) Poetical Works. 
 
 84 Evenings at Home, with 60 illustrations. , 
 - 85 Opening a Chestnut Burr, by the Rev. ,E. P. Roe, 
 
 8f ^What can She do ? by fhe Rev. E. P. Roe. , 
 
 87 Lowell's Poetical Works. 
 
 88 Sir Edward Sea ward's Narrative of his Shipwreck, 
 
 89 Robin Hood Ballads, edited by Ritson. 
 
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 . CrowBiSvo, cloth, 3s.6d. each,, 
 
 ' X The Aiatnan Nights, Unabridged, 
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 5 A Thousand and One Gems of 
 
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 6 The Blackfriars Shakspere, edited 
 
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 8 Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson. 
 
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 23 Tpsephus, translated by Whistqn. 
 
 24 BoOk of Proverbs, Phrases, Quota- 
 
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 26 Book of Table Talk, W. C, Russell. 
 
 27 Junius, Woodfall's edition, 
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 29 Froissartls Chronidesi [matlon. 
 
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 56 Percy's Reliques of Ancient PoetiSf. 
 
 57 Chaucer's Poetical Works. 
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 59 ^jeDser's Poetical WorJcSi 
 
 60 Asmodeus, by Le Sa^e. 
 
 61 Book of Briti^Bal|ads,S.C Hall. 
 63 Plutarch's Lives (L^ghome's ed.) * 
 
 64 Book ofEpIgranis, W. D. Adams. 
 
 65 LpngfelWw's Poems (Comp, ed,) 
 
 66 Le^priere's Classical Dictionary. 
 
 67 Aifim Smith's' Wraith of Nktions, V 
 
 68 Father Prtjut's Works, edited; by 
 
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 69 Carleioi's Traits and -Stories. 
 
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 70 Walker's Rhj'ining Diction^.,; 
 
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 72 Defoe's Journal of the Plague aid 
 
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 7S ,. 1 vol a.' 76 '-^ vol. 3, 
 
 77 A Thousand and One Gems of 
 
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 78 Motley's Rise of the Dutch Re^ 
 
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 79 Prescott's Ferdinand and Isabella,' 
 
 80 
 81 
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 84; 
 
 Conquest of, MexiicD. Cbmp. 
 Conquest of Peru. Comp. 
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 85 Jeremy Tajrlof's Life of Christ. 
 80 Traditions'of Lancashire, by John 
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 96 TheSpectator,largetypeed.,'fol.i. 
 
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 99 R,W, Emerson's Complete Works. 
 100 BosWell's Life of Johnson and 
 
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 103 S." Knowles' Dramatic Works. , 
 
 104 Roscoe's (W.) Lorenzo de Medld. 
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 106 " vol. 3. 
 
 107 Berington's Literary History, of 
 , the Middle Ages. , '