Chapter 16

"_Two_ SENTINELS _discovered asleep_." _Dang_. Tilbury Fort!--very fine indeed! _Puff_. Now, what do you think I open with? _Sneer_. Faith, I can't guess-- _Puff_. A clock.--Hark!--[_Clock strikes_.] I open with a clock striking, to beget an awful attention in the audience: it also marks the time, which is four o'clock in the morning, and saves a description of the rising sun, and a great deal about gilding the eastern hemisphere. _Pang_. But pray, are the sentinels to be asleep? _Puff_. Fast as watchmen. _Sneer_. Isn't that odd though at such an alarming crisis? _Puff_. To be sure it is,--but smaller things must give way to a striking scene at the opening; that's a rule. And the case is, that two great men are coming to this very spot to begin the piece; now it is not to be supposed they would open their lips, if these fellows were watching them; so, egad, I must either have sent them off their posts, or set them asleep. _Sneer_. Oh, that accounts for it. But tell us, who are these coming? _Puff_. These are they--Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sir Christopher Hatton. You'll know Sir Christopher by his turning out his toes--famous, you know, for his dancing. I like to preserve all the little traits of character.--Now attend. "_Enter_ SIR WALTER RALEIGH and SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. _Sir Christ_. True, gallant Raleigh!" _Dang_. What, they had been talking before? _Puff_. O yes; all the way as they came along.--[To the actors.] I beg pardon, gentlemen, but these are particular friends of mine, whose remarks may be of great service to us.-- [_To_ SNEER _and_ DANGLE.] Don't mind interrupting them whenever anything strikes you. "_Sir Christ_.

True, gallant Raleigh But oh, thou champion of thy country's fame, There is a question which I yet must ask A question which I never ask'd before-- What mean these mighty armaments? This general muster? and this throng of chiefs?"

_Sneer_. Pray, Mr. Puff, how came Sir Christopher Hatton never to ask that question before? _Puff_. What before the play began?-how the plague could he? _Dang_. That's true, i'faith! _Puff_. But you will hear what he thinks of the matter. _Sir Christ_.

"Alas I my noble friend, when I behold Yon tented plains in martial symmetry Array'd; when I count o'er yon glittering lines Of crested warriors, where the proud steeds' neigh, And valour-breathing trumpet's shrill appeal, Responsive vibrate on my listening ear; When virgin majesty herself I view, Like her protecting Pallas, veil'd in steel, With graceful confidence exhort to arms! When, briefly, all I hear or see bears stamp Of martial vigilance and stern defence, I cannot but surmise--forgive, my friend, If the conjecture's rash--I cannot but Surmise the state some danger apprehends!"

_Sneer_. A very cautious conjecture that. _Puff_. Yes, that's his character; not to give an opinion but on secure grounds.--Now then. _Sir Walt_.

"O most accomplish'd Christopher!"--

_Puff_. He calls him by his Christian name, to show that they are on the most familiar terms. _Sir Walt_. O most accomplish'd Christopher! I find Thy staunch sagacity still tracks the future, In the fresh print of the o'ertaken past." _Puff_. Figurative! _Sir Walt_. Thy fears are just. _Sir Christ_. But where? whence? when? and what The danger is,--methinks I fain would learn. _Sir Walt_. You know, my friend, scarce two revolving suns, And three revolving moons, have closed their course Since haughty Philip, in despite of peace, With hostile hand hath struck at England's trade. _Sir Christ_. I know it well. _Sir Walt_. Philip, you know, is proud Iberia's king! _Sir Christ_. He is. _Sir Walt_. His subjects in base bigotry And Catholic oppression held;-while we, You know, the Protestant persuasion hold. _Sir Christ_. We do. _Sir Walt_. You know, beside, his boasted armament, The famed Armada, by the Pope baptized, With purpose to invade these realms-- _Sir Christ_. Is sailed, Our last advices so report. _Sir Walt_. While the Iberian admiral's chief hope, His darling son-- _Sir Christ_. Ferolo Whiskerandos hight-- _Sir Walt_. The same--by chance a prisoner hath been ta'en, And in this fort of Tilbury-- _Sir Christ_. Is now Confined--'tis true, and oft from yon tall turret's top I've mark'd the youthful Spaniard's haughty mien Unconquer'd, though in chains. _Sir Walt_. You also know-- Dang. Mr. Puff, as he knows all this, why does Sir Walter go on telling him? _Puff_. But the audience are not supposed to know any-thing of the matter, are they? Sneer. True; but I think you manage ill: for there certainly appears no reason why Sir Walter should be so communicative. _Puff_. 'Fore Gad, now, that is one of the most ungrateful observations I ever heard!--for the less inducement he has to tell all this, the more, I think, you ought to be obliged to him; for I am sure you'd know nothing of the matter without it. _Dang_. That's very true, upon my word. _Puff_. But you will find he was not going on. "_Sir Christ_. Enough, enough--'tis plain--and I no more Am in amazement lost!"-- _Puff_. Here, now you see, Sir Christopher did not in fact ask any one question for his own information. _Sneer_. No, indeed: his has been a most disinterested curiosity! _Dang_. Really, I find that we are very much obliged to them both. _Puff_. To be sure you are. Now then for the commander-in-chief, the Earl of Leicester, who, you know, was no favourite but of the queen's.--We left off--_in amazement lost!_ "_Sir Christ_. Am in amazement lost. But, see where noble Leicester comes supreme in honours and command. _Sir Walt_. And yet, methinks, At such a time, so perilous, so fear'd, That staff might well become an abler grasp. _Sir Christ_. And so, by Heaven! think I; but soft, he's here!" _Puff_. Ay, they envy him! _Sneer_. But who are these with him? _Puff_. Oh! very valiant knights: one is the governor of the fort, the other the master of the horse. And now, I think, you shall hear some better language: I was obliged to be plain and intelligible in the first scene, because there was so much matter of fact in it; but now, i'faith, you have trope, figure, and metaphor, as plenty as noun-substantives. "_Enter_ EARL OF LEICESTER, GOVERNOR, MASTER OF THE HORSE, KNIGHTS, &c. _Leic_.

How's this, my friends! is't thus your new-fledged zeal, And plumed valour moulds in roosted sloth? Why dimly glimmers that heroic flame, Whose reddening blaze, by patriot spirit fed, Should be the beacon of a kindling realm? Can the quick current of a patriot heart Thus stagnate in a cold and weedy converse, Or freeze in tideless inactivity? No! rather let the fountain of your valour Spring through each stream of enterprise, Each petty channel of conducive daring, Till the full torrent of your foaming wrath O'erwhelm the flats of sunk hostility!"

_Puff_. There it is--followed up! "_Sir Walt_.

No more!--the freshening breath of thy rebuke Hath fill'd the swelling canvas of our souls! And thus, though fate should cut the cable of [_All take hands._] Our topmost hopes, in friendship's closing line We'll grapple with despair, and if we fall, We'll fall in glory's wake!

_Leic_.

There spoke old England's genius! Then, are we all resolved?

_All_.

We are--all resolved.

_Leic_.

To conquer--or be free?

_All_.

To conquer, or be free.

_Leic_.

All?

_All_.

All."

_Dang. Nem. con_. egad! _Puff_. O yes!--where they do agree on the stage, their unanimity is wonderful! "_Leic_.

Then let's embrace--and now--[_Kneels._"

_Sneer_. What the plague, is he going to pray? _Puff_. Yes; hush!--in great emergencies, there Is nothing like a prayer. "_Leic_.

O mighty Mars!"

_Dang_. But why should he pray to Mars? _Puff_. Hush! "_Leic_.

If in thy homage bred, Each point of discipline I've still observed; Nor but by due promotion, and the right Of service, to the rank of major-general Have risen; assist thy votary now!

_Gov_.

Yet do not rise--hear me! [_Kneels._]

_Mast_.

And me! [_Kneels.]

Knight_.

And me! [_Kneels.]

Sir Walt_.

And me! [_Kneels.]

Sir Christ_.

And me! [_Kneels.]"

_Puff_. Now pray altogether. "_All_.

Behold thy votaries submissive beg, That thou wilt deign to grant them all they ask; Assist them to accomplish all their ends, And sanctify whatever means they use To gain them!"

_Sneer_. A very orthodox quintetto! _Puff_. Vastly well, gentlemen!--Is that well managed or not? Have you such a prayer as that on the stage? _Sneer_. Not exactly. _Leic._ [_To_ PUFF.] But, sir, you haven't settled how we are to get off here. _Puff_. You could not go off kneeling, could you? _Sir Walt._ [_To_ PUFF.] O no, sir; impossible! _Puff_. It would have a good effect i'faith, if you could exeunt praying!--Yes, and would vary the established mode of springing off with a glance at the pit. _Sneer_. Oh, never mind, so as you get them off!--I'll answer for it, the audience won't care how. _Puff_. Well, then, repeat the last line standing, and go off the old way. "_All_. And sanctify whatever means we use To gain them. [_Exeunt_.]" _Dang_. Bravo! a fine exit. _Sneer_. Well, really, Mr. Puff-- _Puff_. Stay a moment! "_The_ SENTINELS _get up. _1 Sent_. All this shall to Lord Burleigh's ear. _2 Sent_. 'Tis meet it should. [_Exeunt_.]" _Dang_. Hey!--why, I thought those fellows had been asleep? _Puff_. Only a pretence; there's the art of it: they were spies of Lord Burleigh's. _Sneer_. But isn't it odd they never were taken notice of, not even by the commander-in-chief? _Puff_. O Lud, sir! if people who want to listen, or overhear, were not always connived at in a tragedy, there would be no carrying on any plot in the world. _Dang_. That's certain. _Puff_. But take care, my dear Dangle! the morning gun is going to fire. [_Cannon fires_.] _Dang_. Well, that will have a fine effect! _Puff_. I think so, and helps to realize the scene.-- [_Cannon twice_.] What the plague! three morning guns! there never is but one!--Ay, this is always the way at the theatre: give these fellows a good thing, and they never know when to have done with it.--You have no more cannon to fire? _Und. Promp_. [_Within_.] No, sir. _Puff_. Now, then, for soft music. _Sneer_. Pray, what's that for? _Puff_. It shows that Tilburina is coming!--nothing introduces you a heroine like soft music. Here she comes! _Dang_. And her confidant, I suppose? _Puff_. To be sure! Here they are--inconsolable to the minuet in Ariadne! [Soft music.] "_Enter_ TILNURINA _and_ CONFIDANT. _Tilb_.

Now has the whispering breath of gentle morn Bid Nature's voice and Nature's beauty rise; While orient Phoebus, with unborrow'd hues, Clothes the waked loveliness which all night slept In heavenly drapery I Darkness is fled. Now flowers unfold their beauties to the sun, And, blushing, kiss the beam he sends to wake them-- The striped carnation, and the guarded rose, The vulgar wallflower, and smart gillyflower, The polyanthus mean--the dapper daisy, Sweet-William, and sweet marjoram--and all The tribe of single and of double pinks! Now, too, the feather'd warblers tune their notes Around, and charm the listening grove. The lark! The linnet! chaffinch! bullfinch! goldfinch! greenfinch! But O, to me no joy can they afford! Nor rose, nor wallflower, nor smart gillyflower, Nor polyanthus mean, nor dapper daisy, Nor William sweet, nor marjoram--nor lark, Linnet nor all the finches of the grove!"

_Puff_. Your white handkerchief, madam!-- _Tilb_. I thought, sir, I wasn't to use that till _heart-rending woe_. _Puff_. O yes, madam, at _the finches of the grove_, if you please. "_Tilb_.

Nor lark, Linnet, nor all the finches of the grove! [Weeps.]

_Puff_. Vastly well, madam! _Dang_. Vastly well, indeed! "_Tilb_.

For, O, too sure, heart-rending woe is now The lot of wretched Tilburina!"

_Dang_. Oh!--it's too much. _Sneer_. Oh!--it is indeed. "_Con_.

Be comforted, sweet lady; for who knows, But Heaven has yet some milk-white day in store?

_Tilb_. Alas! my gentle Nora, Thy tender youth as yet hath never mourn'd Love's fatal dart. Else wouldst thou know, that when The soul is sunk in comfortless despair, It cannot taste of merriment." _Dang_. That's certain. "_Con_. But see where your stern father comes It is not meet that he should find you thus." _Puff_. Hey, what the plague!--what a cut is here! Why, what is become of the description of her first meeting with Don Whiskerandos--his gallant behaviour in the sea-fight--and the simile of the canary-bird? _Tilb_. Indeed, sir, you'll find they will not be missed. _Puff_. Very well, very well! _Tilb_. [_To_ CONFIDANT.] The cue, ma'am, if you please. "_Con_. It is not meet that he should find you thus. _Tilb_. Thou counsel'st right; but 'tis no easy task For barefaced grief to wear a mask of joy. _Enter_. GOVERNOR.. _Gov_. How's this!--in tears?--O Tilburina, shame! Is this a time for maudling tenderness, And Cupid's baby woes?--Hast thou not heard That haughty Spain's pope-consecrated fleet Advances to our shores, while England's fate, Like a clipp'd guinea, trembles in the scale? _Tilb_. Then is the crisis of my fate at hand! I see the fleets approach--I see--" _Puff_. Now, pray, gentlemen, mind. This is one of the most useful figures we tragedy writers have, by which a hero or heroine, in consideration of their being often obliged to overlook things that are on the stage, is allowed to hear and see a number of things that are not. _Sneer_. Yes; a kind of poetical second-sight! _Puff_. Yes.--Now then, madam. "_Tilb_. I see their decks Are clear'd!--I see the signal made! The line is form'd!--a cable's length asunder! I see the frigates station'd in the rear; And now, I hear the thunder of the guns! I hear the victor's shouts--I also hear The vanquish'd groan!--and now 'tis smoke-and now I see the loose sails shiver in the wind! I see--I see--what soon you'll see-- _Gov_. Hold, daughter! peace! this love hath turn'd thy brain The Spanish fleet thou canst not see--because--It is not yet in sight!" _Dang_. Egad, though, the governor seems to make no allowance for this poetical figure you talk of. _Puff_. No, a plain matter-of-fact man;--that's his character. "_Tilb_. But will you then refuse his offer? _Gov_. I must--I will--I can--I ought--I do. _Tilb_. Think what a noble price. _Gov_. No more--you urge in vain. _Tilb_. His liberty is all he asks." _Sneer_. All who asks, Mr. Puff? Who is-- _Puff_. Egad, sir, I can't tell! Here has been such cutting and slashing, I don't know where they have got to myself. _Tilb_. Indeed, sir, you will find it will connect very well. "--And your reward secure." _Puff_. Oh, if they hadn't been so devilish free with their cutting here, you would have found that Don Whiskerandos has been tampering for his liberty, and has persuaded Tilburina to make this proposal to her father. And now, pray observe the conciseness with which the argument is conducted. Egad, the _pro_ and _con_ goes as smart as hits in a fencing match. It is indeed a sort of small-sword-logic, which we have borrowed from the French. "_Tilb_. A retreat in Spain! _Gov_. Outlawry here! _Tilb_. Your daughter's prayer! _Gov_. Your father's oath! _Tilb_. My lover! _Gov_. My country! _Tilb_. Tilburina! _Gov_. England! _Tilb_. A title! _Gov_. Honour! _Tilb_. A pension! _Gov_. Conscience! _Tilb_. A thousand pounds! _Gov_. Ha! thou hast touch'd me nearly!" _Puff_. There you see-she threw in _Tilburina_. Quick, parry Carte with _England_! Ha! thrust in tierce _a title_!--parried by _honour_. Ha! _a pension_ over the arm!--put by by _conscience_. Then flankonade with _a thousand pounds_--and a palpable hit, egad! "_Tilb_. Canst thou--Reject the suppliant, and the daughter too? _Gov_. No more; I would not hear thee plead in vain: The father softens--but the governor Is fix'd! [_Exit_.]" _Dang_. Ay, that antithesis of persons is a most established figure. "_Tilb_. 'Tis well,--hence then, fond hopes,--fond passion hence; Duty, behold I am all over thine-- _Whisk_. [_Without_.] Where is my love--my-- _Tilb_. Ha! _Enter_ DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. _Whisk_. My beauteous enemy!--" _Puff_. O dear, ma'am, you must start a great deal more than that! Consider, you had just determined in favour of duty--when, in a moment, the sound of his voice revives your passion-- overthrows your resolution--destroys your obedience. If you don't express all that in your start, you do nothing at all. _Tilb_. Well, we'll try again. _Dang_. Speaking from within has always a fine effect. _Sneer_. Very. "_Whisk_. My conquering Tilburina! How! is't thus We meet? why are thy looks averse? what means That falling tear--that frown of boding woe? Ha! now indeed I am a prisoner! Yes, now I feel the galling weight of these Disgraceful chains--which, cruel Tilburina! Thy doting captive gloried in before.--But thou art false, and Whiskerandos is undone! _Tilb_. O no! how little dost thou know thy Tilburina! _Whisk_. Art thou then true?--Begone cares, doubts, and fears, I make you all a present to the winds; And if the winds reject you--try the waves." _Puff_. The wind, you know, is the established receiver of all stolen sighs, and cast-off griefs and apprehensions. "_Tilb_. Yet must we part!--stern duty seals our doom Though here I call yon conscious clouds to witness, Could I pursue the bias of my soul, All friends, all right of parents, I'd disclaim, And thou, my Whiskerandos, shouldst be father And mother, brother, cousin, uncle, aunt, And friend to me! _Whisk_. Oh, matchless excellence! and must we part? Well, if--we must--we must--and in that case The less is said the better." _Puff_. Heyday! here's a cut!--What, are all the mutual protestations out? _Tilb_. Now, pray, sir, don't interrupt us just here: you ruin our feelings. _Puff_. Your feelings!--but, zounds, my feelings, ma'am! _Sneer_. No, pray don't interrupt them. "_Whisk_. One last embrace. _Tilb_. Now,--farewell, for ever. _Whisk_. For ever! _Tilb_. Ay, for ever! [_Going_.]" _Puff_. 'Sdeath and fury!--Gad's life!--sir! madam! if you go out without the parting look, you might as well dance out. Here, here! _Con_. But pray, sir, how am I to get off here? _Puff_. You! pshaw! what the devil signifies how you get off! edge away at the top, or where you will--[_Pushes the_ CONFIDANT _off_.] Now, ma'am, you see-- _Tilb_. We understand you, sir. "Ay, for ever. _Both_. Oh! [_Turning back, and exeunt.--Scene closes_.]" _Dang_. Oh, charming! _Puff_. Hey!--'tis pretty well, I believe: you see I don't attempt to strike out anything new--but I take it I improve on the established modes. _Sneer_. You do, indeed! But pray is not Queen Elizabeth to appear? _Puff_. No, not once--but she is to be talked of for ever; so that, egad, you'll think a hundred times that she is on the point of coming in. _Sneer_. Hang it, I think it's a pity to keep her in the green-room all the night. _Puff_. O no, that always has a fine effect--it keeps up expectation. _Dang_. But are we not to have a battle? _Puff_. Yes, yes, you will have a battle at last: but, egad, it's not to be by land, but by sea--and that is the only quite new thing in the piece. _Dang_. What, Drake at the Armada, hey? _Puff_. Yes, i'faith--fire-ships and all; then we shall end with the procession. Hey, that will do, I think?, _Sneer_. No doubt on't. _Puff_. Come, we must not lose time; so now for the under-plot. _Sneer_. What the plague, have you another plot? _Puff_. O Lord, yes; ever while you live have two plots to your tragedy. The grand point in managing them is only to let your under-plot have as little connection with your main-plot as possible.--I flatter myself nothing can be more distinct than mine; for as in my chief plot the characters are all great people, I have laid my under-plot in low life, and as the former is to end in deep distress, I make the other end as happy as a farce.--Now, Mr. Hopkins, as soon as you please. _Enter_ UNDER PROMPTER. _Under Promp_. Sir, the carpenter says it is impossible you can go to the park scene yet. _Puff_. The park scene! no! I mean the description scene here, in the wood. _Under Promp_. Sir, the performers have cut it out. _Puff_. Cut it out! _Under Promp_. Yes, sir. _Puff_. What! the whole account of Queen Elizabeth? _Under Promp_. Yes, sir. _Puff_. And the description of her horse and side-saddle? _Under Promp_. Yes, sir. _Puff_. So, so; this is very fine indeed!--Mr. Hopkins, how the plague could you suffer this? _Mr. Hop_. [_Within._] Sir, indeed the pruning-knife-- _Puff_. The pruning-knife--zounds!--the axe! Why, here has been such lopping and topping, I shan't have the bare trunk of my play left presently!--Very well, sir--the performers must do as they please; but, upon my soul, I'll print it every word. _Sneer_. That I would, indeed. _Puff_. Very well, sir; then we must go on.--Zounds! I would not have parted with the description of the horse!--Well, sir, go on.--Sir, it was one of the finest and most laboured things.-- Very well, sir; let them go on.--There you had him and his accoutrements, from the bit to the crupper.--Very well, sir; we must go to the park scene. _Under Promp_. Sir, there is the point: the carpenters say, that unless there is some business put in here before the drop, they sha'n't have time to clear away the fort, or sink Gravesend and the river. _Puff_. So! this is a pretty dilemma, truly!--Gentlemen, you must excuse me--these fellows will never be ready, unless I go and look after them myself. _Sneer_. O dear, sir, these little things will happen. _Puff_. To cut out this scene!--but I'll print it--egad, I'll print it every word! [_Exeunt_.]