A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic Part 16

_Tilb_. A t.i.tle!

_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 t.i.tle_!--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 ant.i.thesis of persons is a most established figure.

"_Tilb_. 'Tis well,--hence then, fond hopes,--fond pa.s.sion 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 pa.s.sion-- 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-s.h.i.+ps 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_.]

ACT III.

SCENE I.--_The Theatre, before the curtain._ _Enter_ PUFF, SNEER, _and_ DANGLE.

_Puff_. Well, we are ready; now then for the justices.

[_Curtain rises._]

"JUSTICES, CONSTABLES, &c., _discovered_."

_Sneer_. This, I suppose, is a sort of senate scene.

_Puff_. To be sure; there has not been one yet.

_Dang_. It is the under-plot, isn't it?

_Puff_. Yes.--What, gentlemen, do you mean to go at once to the discovery scene?

_Just_. If you please, sir.

_Puff_. Oh, very well!--Hark'ee, I don't choose to say anything more; but, i'faith they have mangled my play in a most shocking manner.

_Dang_. It's a great pity!

_Puff_. Now, then, Mr. justice, if you please.

"_Just_. Are all the volunteers without?

_Const_. They are. Some ten in fetters, and some twenty drunk.

_Just_. Attends the youth, whose most opprobrious fame And clear convicted crimes have stamp'd him soldier?

_Const_. He waits your pleasure; eager to repay The best reprieve that sends him to the fields Of glory, there to raise his branded hand In honour's cause.

_Just_. 'Tis well--'tis justice arms him! Oh! may he now defend his country's laws With half the spirit he has broke them all! If 'tis your wors.h.i.+p's pleasure, bid him enter.

_Const_. I fly, the herald of your will. [_Exit._]"

_Puff_. Quick, sir.

_Sneer_. But, Mr. Puff, I think not only the justice, but the clown seems to talk in as high a style as the first hero among them.

_Puff_. Heaven forbid they should not in a free country!-- Sir, I am not for making slavish distinctions, and giving all the fine language to the upper sort of people.

_Dang_. That's very n.o.ble in you, indeed.

"_Enter_ JUSTICE'S LADY."

_Puff_. Now, pray mark this scene.

"_Lady_ Forgive this interruption, good my love; But as I just now pa.s.s'd a prisoner youth, Whom rude hands. .h.i.ther lead, strange bodings seized My fluttering heart, and to myself I said, An' if our Tom had lived, he'd surely been This stripling's height!