The Works of Henry Fielding Part 28

_Law_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr YATES.

_Physick_ . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr JONES.

_Ghost of Tragedy_ . . . . . . . Mr PULLEN.

_Ghost of Comedy_ . . . . . . . . Mr JONES.

_Third Ghost_ . . . . . . . . . . Mr WALLIS.

_Harlequin_ . . . . . . . . . . . Mr PULLEN.

_Officer_ . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr PULLEN.

_Messenger_ . . . . . . . . . . . Mr WALLIS.

_Drummer_ . . . . . . . . . . . . Mr LOWDER.

_Attendants on Ignorance, Maids of Honour, &c_.

SCENE, the Play-House.

ACT I.

SCENE I.--_Enter several_ Players.

1 _Play_. When does the rehearsal begin?

2 _Play_. I suppose we shall hardly rehea.r.s.e the comedy this morning, for the author was arrested as he was going home from King's coffee-house; and, as I heard it was for upward of four pound, I suppose he will hardly get bail.

1 _Play_. Where's the tragedy-author then? I have a long part in both, and it's past ten o'clock.

_Wom. P_. Ay, I have a part in both too; I wish any one else had them, for they are not seven lengths put together. I think it is very hard a woman of my standing should have a short part put upon her. I suppose Mrs Merit will have all our princ.i.p.al parts now, but I am resolved I'll advertise against her. I'll let the town know how I am injured.

1 _Play_. Oh! here comes our tragedy-poet.

_Enter_ FUSTIAN.

_Fust_. Gentlemen, your servant; ladies, yours. I should have been here sooner, but I have been obliged, at their own requests, to wait upon some half-dozen persons of the first quality with tickets: upon my soul 1 have been chid for putting off my play so long. I hope you are all quite perfect, for the town will positively stay for it no longer. I think I may very well put upon the bills, _At the particular desire of several ladles of quality_, the first night.

_Enter_ Prompter.

_Promp_. Mr Fustian, we must defer the rehearsal of your tragedy, for the gentleman who plays the first ghost is not yet up; and when he is, he has got such a churchyard-cough he will not be heard to the middle of the pit.

1 _Play_. I wish you could cut the ghost out, sir, for I am terribly afraid he'll be d.a.m.ned if you don't.

_Fust_. Cut him out, sir? He is one of the most considerable persons in the play.

_Promp_. Then, sir, you must give the part to somebody else; for the present is so lame he can hardly walk the stage.

_Fust_. Then he shall be carried, for no man in England can act a ghost like him. Sir, he was born a ghost--he was made for the part--and the part writ for him.

_Promp_. Well, sir, then we hope you will give us leave to rehea.r.s.e the comedy first.

_Fust_. Ay, ay, you may rehea.r.s.e it first, if you please, and act it first too. If it keeps mine back above three nights, I am mistaken. I don't know what friends the author may have; but if ever such stuff, such d.a.m.ned, incoherent, senseless stuff, was ever brought on any stage--if the audience suffer it to go through three acts--Oh! he's here.

_Enter_ TRAPWIT.

Dear Mr Trapwit! your most humble servant, sir; I read your comedy over last night, and a most excellent one it is: if it runs as long as it deserves you will engross the whole season to yourself.

_Trap_. Sir, I am glad it met with your approbation, as there is no man whose taste and judgment I have a better opinion of. But pray, sir, why don't they proceed to the rehearsal of your tragedy? I a.s.sure you, sir, I had much difficulty to get hither so early.

2 _Play_. Yes, faith, I believe you had. [_Aside_.

_Fust_. Sir, your comedy is to be rehea.r.s.ed first.

_Trap_. Excuse me, sir, I know the deference due to tragedy better.

_Fust_. Sir, I would not have you think I give up the cause of tragedy; but my ghost, being ill, sir, cannot get up without danger, and I would not risque the life of my ghost on any account.

_Trap_. You are in the right on't, sir; for a ghost is the soul of tragedy.

_Fust_. Ay, sir, I think it is not amiss to remind people of those things which they are now-a-days too apt to disbelieve; besides, we have lately had an act against witches, and I don't question but shortly we shall have one against ghosts. But come, Mr Trapwit, as we are for this once to give the precedence to comedy, e'en let us begin.

_Trap_. Ay, ay, with all my heart. Come, come, where's the gentleman who speaks the prologue? This prologue, Mr Fustian, was given me by a friend, who does not care to own it till he tries whether it succeeds or no.

_Enter_ Player _for the Prologue_.

Come, sir, make a very low bow to the audience; and shew as much concern as possible in your looks.

PROLOGUE.

As crafty lawyers, to acquire applause, Try various arts to get a doubtful cause; Or, as a dancing master in a jigg, With various steps instructs the dancing prig; Or as a doctor writes you different bills; Or as a quack prescribes you different pills; Or as a fiddler plays more tunes than one; Or as a baker bakes more bread than brown; Or as a tumbler tumbles up and down; So does our author, rummaging his brain, By various methods try to entertain; Brings a strange groupe of characters before you, And shews you here at once both Whig and Tory; Or court and country party you may call 'em: But without fear and favour he will maul 'em.

To you, then, mighty sages of the pit--

_Trap_. Oh! dear sir, seem a little more affected, I beseech you; advance to the front of the stage, make a low bow, lay your hand upon your heart, fetch a deep sigh, and pull out your handkerchief: To you, then, mighty sages of the pit--

_Prol_. To you, then, mighty sages of the pit, Our author humbly does his cause submit.

He trys to please--oh! take it not amiss: And though it should be dull, oh! do not hiss; Laugh, if you can--if you cannot laugh, weep: When you can wake no longer--fall asleep.

_Trap_. Very well! very well, sir! You have affected me, I am sure.

_Fust_. And so he will the audience, I'll answer for them.

_Trap_. Oh, sir, you're too good-natured; but, sir, I do a.s.sure you I had writ a much better prologue of my own; but, as this came gratis, have reserved it for my next play--a prologue saved is a prologue got, brother Fustian. But come, where are your actors? Is Mr Mayor and the Aldermen at the table?

_Promp_. Yes, sir; but they want wine, and we can get none from the quaker's cellar without ready money.

_Trap_. Rat him! can't he trust till the third night? Here, take sixpence, and fetch two pots of porter, put it into bottles, and it will do for wine well enough.

_Fust_. Ay, faith, and the wine will be as good as the wit, I'll answer for it. [_Aside_.