SCENE X.
KING, QUEEN, HUNCAMUNCA, COURTIERS.
_King._ Open the prisons, set the wretched free, And bid our treasurer disburse six pounds To pay their debts. Let no one weep to-day. Come, Dollallolla; curse that odious name![199] 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,[200] And this way marches, bearing Grizzle's head. [_A dance 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![201]
_King._ What does the blockhead mean?
_Nood._ I mean, my liege, Only to grace my tale with decent horror.[202] 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 sudden through the streets there came A cow, of larger than the usual size, And in a moment--guess, oh! guess the rest!-- And in a moment swallow'd up Tom Thumb.
_King._ Shut up again the prisons, bid my treasurer Not give three farthings out--hang all the culprits, 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.
_Nood._ Her majesty the queen is in a swoon.
_Queen._ Not so much in a swoon but I have still Strength to reward the messenger of ill news. [_Kills_ NOODLE.
_Nood._ Oh! I am slain.
_Cle._ My lover's kill'd, I will revenge him so. [_Kills the_ QUEEN.
_Hunc._ My mamma kill'd! vile murderess, beware. [_Kills_ CLEORA.
_Dood._ This for an old grudge to thy heart. [_Kills_ HUNCAMUNCA.
_Must._ And this I drive to thine, O Doodle! for a new one. [_Kills_ DOODLE.
_King._ Ha! murderess vile, take that. [_Kills_ MUST. And take thou this.[203] [_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._
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 65: Corneille recommends some very remarkable day wherein to fix the action of a tragedy. This the best of our tragical writers have understood to mean a day remarkable for the serenity of the sky, or what we generally call a fine summer's day: so that, according to this their exposition, the same months are proper for tragedy which are proper for pastoral. Most of our celebrated English tragedies, as Cato, Mariamne, Tamerlane, &c., begin with their observations on the morning. Lee seems to have come the nearest to this beautiful description of our author's:--
"The morning dawns with an unwonted crimson, The flowers all odorous seem, the garden birds Sing louder, and the laughing sun ascends The gaudy earth with an unusual brightness: All nature smiles."--"Cæs. Borg."
Massinissa, in the new Sophonisba, is also a favourite of the sun:--
"The sun too seems As conscious of my joy, with broader eye To look abroad the world, and all things smile Like Sophonisba."
Memnon, in the Persian Princess, makes the sun decline rising, that he may not peep on objects which would profane his brightness:--
"The morning rises slow, And all those ruddy streaks that used to paint The day's approach are lost in clouds, as if The horrors of the night had sent 'em back, To warn the sun he should not leave the sea, To peep," &c. ]
[Footnote 66: 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."
"Love is not sin but where 'tis sinful love."--"Don Sebastian."
"Nature is nature, Lælius."--"Sophonisba."
"Men are but men, we did not make ourselves."--"Revenge." ]
[Footnote 67: Dr. B--y reads. The mighty Tall-mast Thumb. Mr. D--s, The mighty Thumbing Thumb. Mr. T--d reads, Thundering. I think Thomas more agreeable to the great simplicity so apparent in our author.]
[Footnote 68: 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 Trismegistus 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 that this opinion is supported by an assertion of Justus Lipsius, "Thomam illum Thumbum non alium quam Herculem fuisse satis constat," yet shall I venture to oppose one line of Mr. Midwinter against them all:
"In Arthur's court Tom Thumb did live."
"But then," says Dr. B--y, "if we place Tom Thumb in the court of king Arthur, it will be proper to place that court out of Britain, where no giants were ever heard of." Spenser, in his "Fairy Queen," is of another opinion, where, describing Albion, he says:--
"Far within a savage nation dwelt Of hideous gants."
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.]
[Footnote 69: "To whisper in books," says Mr. D--s, "is arrant nonsense." I am afraid this learned man does not sufficiently understand the extensive meaning of the word whisper. If he had rightly understood what is meant by the "senses whisp'ring the soul," in the Persian Princess, or what "whisp'ring like winds" is in Aurengzebe, or like thunder in another author, he would have understood this. Emmeline in Dryden sees a voice, but she was born blind, which is an excuse Panthea cannot plead in Cyrus, who hears a sight:
"Your description will surpass All fiction, painting, or dumb show of horror, That ever ears yet heard, or eyes beheld."
When Mr. D--s understands these, he will understand whispering in books.]
[Footnote 70:
"Some ruffian stept into his father's place, And more than half begot him."--"Mary Queen of Scots." ]
[Footnote 71:
"For Ulamar seems sent express from Heaven, To civilize this rugged Indian clime."--"Lib. Asserted." ]
[Footnote 72: "Omne majus continet in se minus, sed minus non in se majus continere potest," says Scaliger in Thumbo. I suppose he would have cavilled at these beautiful lines in the "Earl of Essex:"
"Thy most inveterate soul, That looks through the foul prison of thy body."
And at those of Dryden:
"The palace is without too well design'd; Conduct me in, for I will view thy mind."--"Aurengzebe." ]
[Footnote 73: 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." ]
[Footnote 74: The trumpet in a tragedy is generally as much as to say: Enter king, which makes Mr. Banks, in one of his plays, call it the trumpet's formal sound.]
[Footnote 75: 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 banquet and the flowing goblet Shall warm the cheek and fill the heart with gladness. Astarbe shall sit mistress of the feast." ]
[Footnote 76:
"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." ]
[Footnote 77: Plato is of this opinion, and so is Mr. Banks:--
"Behold these tears sprung from fresh pain and joy."--"Earl of Essex." ]
[Footnote 78: 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:
"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 Bullen."
Cyrus drowns the whole world:
"Our swelling grief Shall melt into a deluge, and the world Shall drown in tears."--"Cyrus the Great." ]
[Footnote 79: An expression vastly beneath the dignity of tragedy, says Mr. D--s, yet we find the word he cavils at in the mouth of Mithridates less properly used, and applied to a more terrible idea:
"I would be drunk with death."--"Mithridates."
The author of the new Sophonisba taketh hold of this monosyllable, and uses it pretty much to the same purpose:--
"The Carthaginian sword with Roman blood Was drunk."
I would ask Mr. D--s which gives him the best idea, a drunken king, or a drunken sword?
Mr. Tate dresses up king Arthur's resolution in heroic:
"Merry, my lord, o' th' captain's humour right, I am resolved to be dead drunk to-night."
Lee also uses this charming word:
"Love's the drunkenness of the mind."--"Gloriana." ]
[Footnote 80: Dryden hath borrowed this, and applied it improperly:
"I'm half-seas o'er in death."--"Cleom." ]
[Footnote 81: This figure is in great use among the tragedians:
"'Tis therefore, therefore 'tis."--"Victim."
"I long, repent, repent, and long again."--"Busiris." ]
[Footnote 82: A tragical exclamation.]
[Footnote 83: This line is copied verbatim in the Captives.]
[Footnote 84: 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." ]
[Footnote 85: This simile occurs very frequently among the dramatic writers of both kinds.]
[Footnote 86: Mr. Lee hath stolen this thought from our author:
"This perfect face, drawn by the gods in council, Which they were long in making."--"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! Their 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." ]
[Footnote 87: It is impossible, says Mr. W----, sufficiently to admire this natural easy line.]
[Footnote 88: This tragedy, which in most points resembles the ancients, differs from them in this--that it assigns the same honour to lowness of stature which they did to height. The gods and heroes in Homer and Virgil are continually described higher by the head than their followers, the contrary of which is observed by our author. In short, to exceed on either side is equally admirable; and a man of three foot is as wonderful a sight as a man of nine.]
[Footnote 89:
"My blood leaks fast, and the great heavy lading My soul will quickly sink."--"Mithridates."
"My soul is like a ship."--"Injured Love." ]
[Footnote 90: This well-bred line seems to be copied in the Persian Princess:
"To be your humblest and most faithful slave." ]
[Footnote 91: 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." ]
[Footnote 92: Mr. Dryden seems to have had this passage in his eye in the first page of Love Triumphant.]
[Footnote 93: Don Carlos, in the Revenge, suns himself in the charms of his mistress:
"While in the lustre of her charms I lay." ]
[Footnote 94: A tragical phrase much in use.]
[Footnote 95: 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 Sophonisba."
"And when it (_my heart_) wild resolves to love no more, Then is the triumph of excessive love."--_Ibid._ ]
[Footnote 96: Massinissa is one-fourth less happy than Tom Thumb.
"Oh! happy, happy, happy!"--_Ibid._ ]
[Footnote 97:
"No by myseif."--"Anna Bullen." ]
[Footnote 98:
"Who caused This dreadful revolution in my fate, Ulamar. Who but a dog--who but a dog?"--"Liberty As." ]
[Footnote 99:
"A bride, Who twenty years lay loving by your side."--Banks. ]
[Footnote 100:
"For, borne upon a cloud, from high I'll fall, And rain down royal vengeance on you all."--"Alb. Queens." ]
[Footnote 101: An information very like this we have in the tragedy of Love, where Cyrus, having stormed in the most violent manner, Cyaxares observes very calmly, "Why, nephew Cyrus, you are moved?"]
[Footnote 102:
"'Tis in your choice. Love me, or love me not."--"Conquest of Granada." ]
[Footnote 103: There is not one beauty in this charming speech but what hath been borrow'd by almost every tragic writer.]
[Footnote 104: Mr. Banks has (I wish I could not say too servilely) imitated this of Grizzle in his Earl of Essex:
"Where art thou, Essex," &c. ]
[Footnote 105: The Countess of Nottingham, in the Earl of Essex, is apparently acquainted with Dollallolla.]
[Footnote 106: Grizzle was not probably possessed of that glue of which Mr. Banks speaks in his Cyrus:
"I'll glue my ears to every word." ]
[Footnote 107:
"Screech-owls, dark ravens, and amphibious monsters, Are screaming in that voice."--"Mary Queen of Scots." ]
[Footnote 108: The reader may see all the beauties of this speech in a late ode, called the "Naval Lyrick."]
[Footnote 109: This epithet to a dolphin doth not give one so clear an idea as were to be wished; a smiling fish seeming a little more difficult to be imagined than a flying fish. Mr. Dryden is of opinion that smiling is the property of reason, and that no irrational creature can smile:
"Smiles not allow'd to beasts from reason move."--"State of Innocence." ]
[Footnote 110: These lines are written in the same key with those in the Earl of Essex:
"Why, say'st thou so? I love thee well, indeed I do, and thou shalt find by this 'tis true."
Or with this in Cyrus:
"The most heroic mind that ever was."
And with above half of the modern tragedies.]
[Footnote 111: 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.
_Fra._ Do not fear it. He answers you in your hawking phrase."--"In Love."
I think these two great authorities are sufficient to justify Dollallolla in the use of the phrase, "Hie away, hie!" when in the same line she says she is speaking to a setting-dog.]
[Footnote 112: 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." ]
[Footnote 113: Mr. Rowe is generally imagined to have taken some hints from this 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.]
[Footnote 114: 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.]
[Footnote 115: 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." ]
[Footnote 116: "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." ]
[Footnote 117: 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." ]
[Footnote 118: Anthony gives the same command in the same words.]
[Footnote 119:
"Oh! Marius, Marius, wherefore art thou, Marius?"--Otway's "Marius." ]
[Footnote 120: Nothing is more common than these seeming contradictions; such as--
"Haughty weakness."--"Victim."
"Great small world."--"Noah's Flood." ]
[Footnote 121: Lee hath improved this metaphor:
"Dost thou not view joy peeping from my eyes, The casements open'd wide to gaze on thee? So Rome's glad citizens to windows rise, When they some young triumpher fain would see."--"Gloriana." ]
[Footnote 122: Almahide hath the 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."--Banks's "Earl of Essex."
But, if we may believe one who knows more than either, the devil himself, we shall find eating to be an affair of more moment than is generally imagined:
"Gods are immortal only by their food."--
"Lucifer, in the State of Innocence."]
[Footnote 123: "This expression is enough of itself," says Mr. D., "utterly to destroy the character of Huncamunca!" Yet we find a woman of no abandoned character in Dryden adventuring farther, and thus excusing herself:
"To speak our wishes first, forbid it pride, Forbid it modesty; true, they forbid it, But Nature does not. When we are athirst, Or hungry, will imperious Nature stay, Nor eat, nor drink, before 'tis bid fall on?"-- "Cleomenes."
Cassandra speaks before she is asked: Huncamunca afterwards. Cassandra speaks her wishes to her lover: Huncamunca only to her father.]
[Footnote 124:
"Her eyes resistless magic bear: Angels, I see, and gods, are dancing there,"--Lee's "Sophonisba." ]
[Footnote 125: Mr. Dennis, in that excellent tragedy called Liberty Asserted, which is thought to have given so great a stroke to the late French king, hath frequent imitations of this beautiful speech of king Arthur:
"Conquest light'ning in his eyes, and thund'ring in his arm." "Joy lighten'd in her eyes." "Joys like light'ning dart along my soul." ]
[Footnote 126:
"Jove, with excessive thund'ring tired above, Comes down for ease, enjoys a nymph, and then Mounts dreadful, and to thund'ring goes again."--"Gloriana." ]
[Footnote 127: This beautiful line, which ought, says Mr. W----, to be written in gold, is imitated in the New Sophonisba:
"Oh! Sophonisba; Sophonisba, oh! Oh! Narva; Narva, oh!"
The author of a song called Duke upon Duke hath improved it:
"Alas! O Nick! O Nick, alas!"
Where, by the help of a little false spelling, you have two meanings in the repeated words.]
[Footnote 128: Edith, in the Bloody Brother, speaks to her lover in the same familiar language:
"Your grace is full of game." ]
[Footnote 129:
"Traverse the glitt'ring chambers of the sky, Borne on a cloud in view of fate I'll lie, And press her soul while gods stand wishing by."--"Hannibal." ]
[Footnote 130:
"Let the four winds from distant corners meet, And on their wings first bear it into France; Then back again to Edina's proud walls, Till victim to the sound th' aspiring city falls."--"Albion Queens." ]
[Footnote 131: 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." ]
[Footnote 132: This image, too, very often occurs:
"Bright as when thy eye First lighted up our loves."--"Aurengzebe."
"'Tis not a crown alone lights up my name."--"Busiris." ]
[Footnote 133: There is great dissension among the poets concerning the method of making man. One tells his mistress that the mould she was made in being lost, Heaven cannot form such another. Lucifer, in Dryden, gives a merry description of his own formation:
"Whom heaven, neglecting, made and scarce design'd, But threw me in for number to the rest."--"State of Innocence."
In one place the same poet supposes man to be made of metal:
"I was form'd Of that coarse metal which, when she was made, The gods threw by for rubbish."--"All for Love."
In another of dough:
"When the gods moulded up the paste of man, Some of their clay was left upon their hands. And so they made Egyptians."--"Cleomenes."
In another of clay:
"Rubbish of remaining clay."--Sebastian."
One makes the soul of wax:
"Her waxen soul begins to melt apace."--"Anna Bullen."
Another of flint:
"Sure our 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 find it in Dryden:
"Souls shirted but with air."--"King Arthur."
Nor can I pass by a particular sort of soul in a particular sort of description in the New Sophonisba.
"Ye mysterious powers, Whether thro' your gloomy depths I wander, Or on the mountains walk, give me the calm, The steady smiling soul, where wisdom sheds Eternal sunshine, and eternal joy." ]
[Footnote 134: This line Mr. Banks has plunder'd entire in his Anna Bullen.]
[Footnote 135:
"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." ]
[Footnote 136: I know some of the commentators have imagined that Mr. Dryden, in the altercative scene between Cleopatra and Octavia, a scene which Mr. Addison inveighs against with great bitterness, is much beholden to our author. How just this their observation is I will not presume to determine.]
[Footnote 137: "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 loose as a bride's hair."--"Injured Love."
Which line seems to have as much title to a milliner's shop as our author's to a shoemaker's.]
[Footnote 138: 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, Jonson, and Fletcher, were so notoriously negligent; and the moderns, in imitation of our author, so laudably observant:
"Then does Your majesty believe that he can be A traitor?"--"Earl of Essex."
Every page of Sophonisba gives us instances of this excellence.]
[Footnote 139:
"Love mounts and rolls about my stormy mind."--"Aurengzebe."
"Tempests and whirlwinds thro' my bosom move."--"Cleom." ]
[Footnote 140:
"With such a furious tempest on his brow, As if the world's four winds were pent within His blustering carcase."--"Anna Bullen." ]
[Footnote 141: Verba Tragica.]
[Footnote 142: This speech has been terribly mauled by the poet.]
[Footnote 143:
"My life is worn to rags, Not worth a prince's wearing"--"Love Triumphant." ]
[Footnote 144:
"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." ]
[Footnote 145:
"When thou wert form'd heaven did a man begin; But a brute soul by chance was shuffled in."--"Aurengzebe." ]
[Footnote 146:
"I am a multitude Of walking griefs."--"New Sophonisba." ]
[Footnote 147:
"I will take thy scorpion blood, And lay it to my grief till I have ease."--"Anna Bullen." ]
[Footnote 148: 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 off in this sullen and doleful manner, in which admirable conduct he is imitated by the author of the justly celebrated Eurydice. Dr. Young seems to point at this violence of passion:
"Passion chokes Their words, and they're the statues of despair."
And Seneca tells us, "Curæ leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent." The story of the Egyptian king in Herodotus is too well known to need to be inserted; I refer the more curious reader to the excellent Montaigne, who hath written an essay on this subject.]
[Footnote 149:
"To part is death. 'Tis death to part. Ah! Oh!"--"Don Carlos." ]
[Footnote 150:
"Nor know I whether What am I, who, or where."--"Busiris."
"I was I know not what, and am I know not how."--"Gloriana." ]
[Footnote 151: To understand sufficiently the beauty of this passage, it will be necessary that we comprehend every man to contain two selfs. I shall not attempt to prove this from philosophy, which the poets make so plainly evident.
One runs away from the other:
"Let me demand your majesty, Why fly you from yourself?"--"Duke of Guise."
In a second, one self is a guardian to the other:
"Leave me the care of me."--"Conquest of Granada."
Again:
"Myself am to myself less near."--_Ibid._
In the same, the first self is proud of the second:
"I myself am proud of me."--"State of Innocence."
In a third, distrustful of him:
"Fain I would tell, but whisper it in my ear. That none besides might hear, nay, not myself."--"Earl of Essex."
In a fourth, honours him:
"I honour Rome, And honour too myself."--"Sophonisba."
In a fifth, at variance with him:
"Leave me not thus at variance with myself."--"Busiris."
Again, in a sixth:
"I find myself divided from myself."--"Medea."
"She seemed the sad effigies of herself."--Banks.
"Assist me, Zulema, if thou would'st be The friend thou seem'st, assist me against me."--"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.]
[Footnote 152: Mr. F. imagines this parson to have been a Welsh one, from his simile.]
[Footnote 153: Our author hath been plundered here, according to custom:
"Great nature, break thy chain that links together The fabric of the world, and make a chaos Like that within my soul."--"Love Triumphant." "Startle Nature, unfix the globe, And hurl it from its axletree and hinges."--"Albion Queens."
"The tott'ring earth seems sliding off its props." ]
[Footnote 154:
"D--n your delay, ye torturers, proceed: I will not hear one word but Almahide."--"Conq. of Gran." ]
[Footnote 155: Mr. Dryden hath imitated this in All for Love.]
[Footnote 156: This Miltonic style abounds in the New Sophonisba.
"And on her ample brow Sat majesty." ]
[Footnote 157:
"Your ev'ry answer still so ends in that, You force me still to answer you, Morat."--"Aurengzebe. ]
[Footnote 158:
"Morat, Morat, Morat! you love the name."--_Ibid._ ]
[Footnote 159: "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 Abradatus first, and thee."--"Cyrus the Great."
Nor is the lady in Love Triumphant more reserved, though not so intelligible:
"I am so divided, That I grieve most for both, and love both most." ]
[Footnote 160: A ridiculous supposition to any one who considers the great and extensive largeness of hell, says a commentator; but not so to those who consider the great expansion of immaterial substance. Mr. Banks makes one soul to be so expanded, that heaven could not contain it.
"The heavens are all too narrow for her soul."--"Virtue Betrayed."
The Persian Princess hath a passage not unlike the author of this:
"We will send such shoals of murder'd slaves, Shall glut hell's empty regions."
This threatens to fill hell, even though it was empty; Lord Grizzle, only to fill up the chinks, supposing the rest already full.]
[Footnote 161: Mr. Addison is generally thought to have had this simile in his eye when he wrote that beautiful one at the end of the third act of his Cato.]
[Footnote 162: 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 confident that a more perfect system of ethics, as well as economy, might be compiled out of them than is at present extant, either in the works of the ancient philosophers, or those more valuable, as more voluminous ones of the modern divines.]
[Footnote 163: Of all the particulars in which the modern stage falls short 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. Some are of opinion that the moderns are unequal to that sublime language which a ghost ought to speak. One says, ludicrously, that ghosts are out of fashion; another, that they are properer for comedy; forgetting, I suppose, that Aristotle hath told us that a ghost is the soul of tragedy; for so I render the [Greek: psychê ho mythos tês tragôdias], 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, fabulæque 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:--"Nec quidquam in illâ admirabilius quàm phasma quoddam horrendum, quod omnibus aliis spectris, quibuscum scatet Angelorum tragoedia, longè (pace D--ysii V. Doctiss. dixerim) prætulerim."]
[Footnote 164: We have already given instances of this figure.]
[Footnote 165: Almanzor reasons in the same manner:
"A ghost I'll be; And from a ghost, you know, no place is free."--"Conq. of Gran."]
[Footnote 166: "The man who writ this wretched pun," says Mr. D., "would have picked your pocket:" 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 solemn occasion--that of sacrificing his daughter:
"Yes, daughter, yes; you will assist the priest; Yes, you must offer up your--vows for Greece." ]
[Footnote 167:
"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." ]
[Footnote 168:
"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."]
[Footnote 169: The ghost of Lausaria, in Cyrus, is a plain copy of this, and is therefore worth reading:
"Ah, Cyrus! Thou may'st as well grasp water, or fleet air, As think of touching my immortal shade."--"Cyrus the Great." ]
[Footnote 170:
"Thou better part of heavenly air."--"Conquest of Granada." ]
[Footnote 171: "A string of similes," says one, "proper to be hung up in the cabinet of a prince."]
[Footnote 172: This passage hath been understood several different ways by the commentators. For my part I find it difficult to understand it at all. Mr. Dryden says--
"I've heard something how two bodies meet, But how two souls join I know not."
So that, till the body of a spirit be better understood, it will be difficult to understand how it is possible to run him through it.]
[Footnote 173: Cydaria is of the same fearful temper with Dollalolla:
"I never durst in darkness be alone."--"Ind. Emp." ]
[Footnote 174:
"Think well of this, think that, think every way."--"Sophon." ]
[Footnote 175: These quotations are more usual in the comic than in the tragic writers.]
[Footnote 176: "This distress," says Mr. D--, "I must allow to be extremely beautiful, and tends to heighten the virtuous character of Dollallolla, who is so exceeding delicate, that she is in the highest apprehension from the inanimate embrace of a bolster. An example worthy of imitation for all our writers of tragedy."]
[Footnote 177:
"Credat Judæus 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 should not satisfy him, I shall quote a few lines from the speech of a much braver fellow than Almanzor, Mr. Johnson's Achilles:
"Though human race rise in embattled hosts, To force her from my arms--Oh! son of Atreus! By that immortal pow'r, whose deathless spirit Informs this earth, I will oppose them all."--"Victim." ]
[Footnote 178: "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.]
[Footnote 179: A victory like that of Almanzor:
"Almanzor is victorious without fight."--"Conquest of Granada."]
[Footnote 180:
"Well have we chose an happy day for fight; For every man, in course of time, has found Some days are lucky, some unfortunate."--"King Arthur." ]
[Footnote 181: 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." ]
[Footnote 182: These lines are copied verbatim in the Indian Emperor.]
[Footnote 183: "Unborn thunder rolling in a cloud."--"Conquest of Granada."]
[Footnote 184:
"Were heaven and earth in wild confusion hurl'd, Should the rash gods unhinge the rolling world, Undaunted would I tread the tott'ring ball, Crush'd, but unconquer'd, in the dreadful fall."--"Female Warrior." ]
[Footnote 185: See the History of Tom Thumb, p. 141.]
[Footnote 186:
"Amazement swallows up my sense, And in the impetuous whirl of circling fate Drinks down my reason."--"Persian Princess." ]
[Footnote 187:
"I have outfaced myself. What! am I two? Is there another me?"--"King Arthur." ]
[Footnote 188: 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 frequently take this opportunity to pay a compliment to their country, and sometimes to their prince. None but our author (who seems to have detested the least appearance of flattery) would have passed by such an opportunity of being a political prophet.]
[Footnote 189: "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.]
[Footnote 190: "This mustard," says Mr. D., "is enough to turn one's stomach. I would be glad to know what idea the author had in his head when he wrote it." This will be, I believe, best explained by a line of Mr. Dennis:
"And gave him liberty, the salt of life."--"Liberty Asserted."
The understanding that can digest the one will not rise at the other.]
[Footnote 191:
"_Han_, Are you the chief whom men famed Scipio call?
_Scip._ Are you the much more famous Hannibal?"--"Hannibal." ]
[Footnote 192: Dr Young seems to have copied this engagement in his Busiris:
_Myr._ Villain!
_Mem._ Myron!
_Myr._ Rebel!
_Mem._ Myron!
_Myr._ Hell!
_Mem._ Mandane! ]
[Footnote 193: 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." ]
[Footnote 194:
"My soul should with such speed obey, It should not bait at heaven to stop its way." ]
[Footnote 195: 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." ]
[Footnote 196:
"Some kind sprite knocks softly at my soul, To tell me fate's at hand." ]
[Footnote 197: 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." ]
[Footnote 198:
"The devil swallows vulgar souls Like whipt cream."--"Sebastian." ]
[Footnote 199:
"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 tire my hand."--"Cleomenes." ]
[Footnote 200: 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:
"We will celebrate this day at my house to-morrow." ]
[Footnote 201: These beautiful phrases are all to be found in one single speech of King Arthur, or the British Worthy.]
[Footnote 202:
"I was but teaching him to grace his tale With decent horror."--"Cleomenes." ]
[Footnote 203: We may say with Dryden:
"Death did at length so many slain forget, And left the tale, and took them by the great."
I know of no tragedy which comes nearer to this charming and bloody catastrophe than Cleomenes, where the curtain covers five principal characters dead on the stage. These lines too--
"I ask'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 originally his. The Rival Ladies, too, seem beholden to this scene:
"We're now a chain of lovers link'd in death; Julia goes first, Gonsalvo hangs on her, And Angelina hangs upon Gonsalvo, As I on Angelina."
No scene, I believe, ever received greater honours than this. It was applauded by several encores, a word very unusual in tragedy. And it was very difficult for the actors to escape without a second slaughter. This I take to be a lively assurance of that fierce spirit of liberty which remains among us, and which Mr. Dryden, in his essay on Dramatic Poetry, hath observed. "Whether custom," says he, "hath so insinuated itself into our countrymen, or nature hath so formed them to fierceness, I know not; but they will scarcely suffer combats and other objects of horror to be taken from them." And indeed I am for having them encouraged in this martial disposition; nor do I believe our victories over the French have been owing to anything more than to those bloody spectacles daily exhibited in our tragedies, of which the French stage is so entirely clear.]
CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS:
THE MOST TRAGICAL TRAGEDY, THAT EVER WAS TRAGEDIZ'D BY ANY COMPANY OF TRAGEDIANS.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS, _King of Queerummania_. BOMBARDINIAN, _his General_. ALDIBORONTIPHOSCOPHORNIO, RIGDUM-FUNNIDOS, [_Courtiers_. _Captain of the Guards._ _Herald._ _Cook._ _Doctor._ _King of the Fiddlers._ _King of the Antipodes._ FADLADINIDA, _Queen of Queerummania_. TATLANTHE, _her favourite_. _Two Ladies of the Court._ _Two Ladies of Pleasure._ VENUS. CUPID. Guards and Attendants, &c.
SCENE.--QUEERUMMANIA.
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 vain 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 Who out of frolic wears a mimic mask, 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 _and_ 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, Lull'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! I say he sleeps dog-sleep: What a plague would you have me say?
_Aldi._ O impious thought! 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 Rigdum-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._
_Enter_ KING.
_King._ This god of sleep is watchful to torment me, And rest is grown a stranger to my eyes: Sport 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 _and_ ALDIBORONTI.
_Rig._ The king 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, _&c._
_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. [_The flat scene draws._
[_The_ KING _is seated, and a grand pantomime entertainment is performed, in the midst of which enters a_ CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD.
_Capt._ To arms! to arms! great Chrononhotonthologos! Th' antipodean pow'rs from realms below 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 culverin, 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. Rigdum-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. [_Exeunt omnes._
SCENE.--_A magnificent Apartment._
_Enter_ QUEEN, TATLANTHE, _and two_ 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 have a famous fiddler sent from France. Bid him come in. What think ye of a dance?
_Enter_ FIDDLER.
_Fid._ Thus to your majesty, says the suppliant muse, Would you a solo or sonata choose; Or bold concerto or soft Sicilinia, Alla Francese overo in Gusto Romano? When you command, 'tis done as soon as spoke.
_Queen._ A civil fellow! Play us the "Black Joak." [_Music plays._ [QUEEN _and_ LADIES _dance the_ "Black Joak."
So much for dancing; now let's rest a while. Bring in 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 brought 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.
_2nd Lady._ She is an angel.
_1st Lady._ She's a goddess rather.
_Tat._ She's angel, queen, and goddess, altogether.
_Queen._ 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.
_1st Lady._ That blush becomes you.
_Tat._ Would I were a man.
_Queen._ I'll hear no more of these fantastic airs. [_Bell rings._ The bell 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 carry 'em; 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-Funnidos; I have a riddle to unriddle to thee, Shall make thee stare thyself into a statue. Our queen's in love with this Antipodean.
_Rigdum._ The devil she is? Well, I see mischief 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._]
_Enter_ CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS, GUARDS _and_ ATTENDANTS, _&c., met by_ RIGDUM-FUNNIDOS _and_ ALDIBORONTIPHOSCOPHORNIO.
_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 thorough-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: More, to corroborate their sage resolves, Call from their graves the learned men of old: Galen, Hippocrates, and Paracelsus; Doctors, 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 empire. [_Exeunt omnes._
SCENE.--_A Garden._
_Enter_ TATLANTHE _and_ QUEEN.
_Queen._ Heigh ho! my heart!
_Tat._ What ails my gracious queen?
_Queen._ Oh, would to Venus I had never seen!
_Tat._ Seen what, my royal mistress?
_Queen._ Too, too much!
_Tat._ Did it affright you?
_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?
_Queen._ The king I mean.
_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 did 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.
_Queen._ This does my utmost indignation raise: You are too pertly lavish in his praise. Leave 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 live to hear My gracious queen and mistress so severe! I've made some horrible mistake, 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 last; 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.
_To 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.
_Queen._ 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 ev'ry 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. [_Exeunt._
SCENE.--_A Bedchamber._
CHRONONHOTONTHOLOGOS _asleep._
[_Rough music, viz., salt-boxes and rolling-pins, gridirons and tongs; sow-gelders' horns, marrowbones and cleavers, &c. &c. He wakes._
_Chro._ What heav'nly sounds are these that charm my ears! Sure 'tis the music of the tuneful spheres.
_Enter_ CAPTAIN OF THE GUARDS.
_Cap._ A messenger from Gen'ral Bombardinion Craves instant audience of your majesty.
_Chro._ Give him admittance.
_Enter_ HERALD.
_Her._ Long life to Chrononhotonthologos! 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.
_Her._ Suspend awhile, great Chrononhotonthologos, The fate of empires and the toils of war; And in my tent let's quaff Falernian wine Till our souls mount and emulate the gods. Two 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.--_A Prison._
_The King of the Antipodes discover'd sleeping on a couch. Enter_ QUEEN.
_Queen._ Is this a place, oh! all ye gods above, This 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? 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._
AIR.
_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 capo_.
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. 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, &c.
_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 _and_ CUPID _re-ascend; the_ QUEEN _goes off, and the King of the Antipodes follows, walking on his hands. Scene closes._
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? 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 the 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, general!
_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._ Monarchs, 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 him._
_Bomb._ A blow! shall Bombardinion take a blow? Blush! blush, 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!" &c._
_King._ What means the traitor?
_Bomb._ Traitor in thy teeth, Thus I defy thee! [_They fight, he kills the King._
Ha! what have I done? Go, call a coach, and let a coach be call'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 unknown to make new wars, And gain thee empires num'rous as the stars.
[_Kills himself._
_Enter_ QUEEN _and others._
_Aldi._ O horrid! horrible, and horrid'st horror! Our king! our general! our cook! our doctor! All dead! stone dead! irrevocably dead! O----h!---- [_All groan, a tragedy groan._
_Queen._ My husband dead! ye gods! 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; aint 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-Funnidos, a proper man; If any one can please a queen, he can.
_Rig-Fun._ Ay, that I can, and please your majesty. So, ceremonies apart, let's proceed to business.
_Queen_. Oh! but the mourning takes up all my 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, will please ye. And now, Tatlanthe, thou art all my care: Where 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 numbers of_ THE ANTI-JACOBIN, _which was planned by_ Canning, _and of which the first number appeared on the_ 20_th of November_, 1797_. "_The Rovers, or the Double Arrangement_," _was the joint work of_ George Canning, George Ellis, _and_ John Hookham Frere.
THE ROVERS;
OR, THE DOUBLE ARRANGEMENT.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
PRIOR _of the_ ABBEY _of_ QUEDLINBURGH, _very corpulent and cruel_.
ROGERO, _a Prisoner in the Abbey, in love with_ MATILDA POTTINGEN.
CASIMERE, _a Polish Emigrant, in Dembrowsky's Legion, married to_ CECILIA, _but having several children by_ MATILDA.
PUDDINGFIELD _and_ BEEFINGTON, _English Noblemen exiled by the Tyranny of King John, previous to the signature of Magna Charta_.
RODERIC, _Count of Saxe Weimar, a bloody Tyrant, with red hair, and an amorous complexion_.
GASPAR, _the Minister of the Count; Author of_ ROGERO'S _confinement_.
_Young_ POTTINGEN, _brother to_ MATILDA.
MATILDA POTTINGEN, _in love with_ ROGERO, _and mother to_ CASIMERE'S _children_.
CECILIA MÜCKENFELD, _wife to_ CASIMERE.
_Landlady, Waiter, Grenadiers, Troubadours, &c._
PANTALOWSKY, _and_ BRITCHINDA, _children of_ MATILDA, _by_ CASIMERE.
JOACHIM, JABEL, _and_ AMARANTHA, _children of_ MATILDA, _by_ ROGERO.
_Children of_ CASIMERE _and_ CECILIA, _with their respective Nurses_.
Several Children; Fathers and Mothers unknown.
THE SCENE LIES IN THE TOWN OF WEIMAR, AND THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF THE ABBEY OF QUEDLINBURGH.
_Time, from the Twelfth to the present Century._
PROLOGUE.
(_In character._)
Too long the triumphs of our early times, With civil discord, and with regal crimes, Have stain'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. To-night our bard, who scorns pedantic rules, His plot has borrow'd from the German schools; --The German schools--where no dull maxims 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[204] stocks his gloomy caves; Tells how prime ministers[205] are shocking things, And _reigning dukes_ as bad as tyrant kings; How to _two_ swains[206] _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 in each passage fine The faint translation[207] mock the genuine line; Though the nice ear the erring sight belie, For _U twice dotted_ is pronounced like _I_; [_Applause._ Yet oft the scene shall Nature's fire impart, Warm _from_ the breast, and glowing _to_ the heart! Ye travell'd few, attend! On _you_ our 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 of_ PROLOGUE'S GRANDMOTHER, _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 audience clapping and crying all the while_.--_Flash of lightning_.--PROLOGUE _and his_ GRANDMOTHER _sink through the trap-door_.
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