SCENE X.

NOODLE, _and then_ GRIZZLE.

_Nood._ Sure, Nature means to break her solid chain,[153]

Or else unfix the world, and in a rage

To hurl it from its axletree and hinges;

All things are so confused, the king's in love,

The queen is drunk, the princess married is.

_Griz._ Oh, Noodle! Hast thou Huncamunca seen?

_Nood._ I've seen a thousand sights this day, where none

Are by the Wonderful Pig himself outdone.

The king, the queen, and all the court, are sights.

_Griz._ D--n your delay, you trifler! are you drunk, ha?[154]

I will not hear one word but Huncamunca.

_Nood._ By this time she is married to Tom Thumb.

_Griz._ My Huncamunca![155]

_Nood._ Your Huncamunca,

Tom Thumb's Huncamunca, every man's Huncamunca.

_Griz._ If this be true, all womankind are curst.

_Nood._ If it be not, may I be so myself.

_Griz._ See where she comes! I'll not believe a word

Against that face, upon whose ample brow[156]

Sits innocence with majesty enthroned.

GRIZZLE, HUNCAMUNCA.

_Griz._ Where has my Huncamunca been? See here.

The licence in my hand!

_Hunc._ Alas! Tom Thumb.

_Griz._ Why dost thou mention him?

_Hunc._ Ah, me! Tom Thumb.

_Griz._ What means my lovely Huncamunca?

_Hunc._ Hum?

_Griz._ Oh! speak.

_Hunc._ Hum!

_Griz._ Ha! your every word is hum:

You force me still to answer you, Tom Thumb.[157]

Tom Thumb--I'm on the rack--I'm in a flame.

Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb--you love the name;[158]

So pleasing is that sound, that, were you dumb,

You still would find a voice to cry Tom Thumb.

_Hunc._ Oh! be not hasty to proclaim my doom!

My ample heart for more than one has room:

A maid like me Heaven form'd at least for two.

I married him, and now I'll marry you.[159]

_Griz._ Ha! dost thou own thy falsehood to my face?

Think'st thou that I will share thy husband's place?

Since to that office one cannot suffice,

And since you scorn to dine one single dish on,

Go, get your husband put into commission.

Commissioners to discharge (ye gods! it fine is)

The duty of a husband to your highness.

Yet think not long I will my rival bear,

Or unrevenged the slighted willow wear;

The gloomy, brooding tempest, now confined

Within the hollow caverns of my mind,

In dreadful whirl shall roll along the coasts,

Shall thin the land of all the men it boasts,

And cram up ev'ry chink of hell with ghosts.[160]

So have I seen, in some dark winter's day,[161]

A sudden storm rush down the sky's highway,

Sweep through the streets with terrible ding-dong,

Gush through the spouts, and wash whole clouds along.

The crowded shops the thronging vermin screen,

Together cram the dirty and the clean,

And not one shoe-boy in the street is seen.

_Hunc._ Oh, fatal rashness! should his fury slay

My hapless bridegroom on his wedding-day,

I, who this morn of two chose which to wed,

May go again this night alone to bed.

So have I seen some wild unsettled fool,[162]

Who had her choice of this and that joint-stool,

To give the preference to either loth,

And fondly coveting to sit on both,

While the two stools her sitting-part confound,

Between 'em both fall squat upon the ground.

* * * * *

ACT III.

SCENE I.--KING ARTHUR'S _Palace._

_Ghost_[163] (_solus_). Hail! ye black horrors of midnight's midnoon!

Ye fairies, goblins, bats, and screech-owls, hail!

And, oh! ye mortal watchmen, whose hoarse throats

Th' immortal ghosts dread croakings counterfeit,

All hail!--Ye dancing phantoms, who, by day,

Are some condemn'd to fast, some feast in fire,

Now play in churchyards, skipping o'er the graves,

To the loud music of the silent bell,[164]

All hail!

SCENE II.

KING, GHOST.

_King_. What noise is this? What villain dares,

At this dread hour, with feet and voice profane,

Disturb our royal walls?

_Ghost_. One who defies

Thy empty power to hurt him; one who dares[165]

Walk in thy bedchamber.

_King_. Presumptuous slave!

Thou diest.

_Ghost_. Threaten others with that word:

I am a ghost, and am already dead.[166]

_King_. Ye stars! 'tis well. Were thy last hour to come,

This moment had been it; yet by thy shroud[167]

I'll pull thee backward, squeeze thee to a bladder,

Till thou dost groan thy nothingness away.

Thou fly'st! 'Tis well. [GHOST _retires_.

I thought what was the courage of a ghost![168]

Yet, dare not, on thy life--Why say I that,

Since life thou hast not?--Dare not walk again

Within these walls, on pain of the Red Sea.

For, if henceforth I ever find thee here,

As sure, sure as a gun, I'll have thee laid----

_Ghost._ Were the Red Sea a sea of Hollands gin,

The liquor (when alive) whose very smell

I did detest, did loathe--yet, for the sake

Of Thomas Thumb, I would be laid therein.

_King._ Ha! said you?

_Ghost._ Yes, my liege, I said Tom Thumb,

Whose father's ghost I am--once not unknown

To mighty Arthur. But, I see, 'tis true,

The dearest friend, when dead, we all forget.

_King._ 'Tis he--it is the honest Gaffer Thumb.

Oh! let me press thee in my eager arms,

Thou best of ghosts! thou something more than ghost!

_Ghost._ Would I were something more, that we again

Might feel each other in the warm embrace.

But now I have th' advantage of my king,

For I feel thee, whilst thou dost not feel me.[169]

_King._ But say, thou dearest air,[170] oh! say what dread,

Important business sends thee back to earth?

_Ghost._ Oh! then prepare to hear--which but to hear

Is full enough to send thy spirit hence.

Thy subjects up in arms, by Grizzle led,

Will, ere the rosy-finger'd morn shall ope

The shutters of the sky, before the gate

Of this thy royal palace, swarming spread.

So have I seen the bees in clusters swarm,[171]

So have I seen the stars in frosty nights,

So have I seen the sand in windy days,

So have I seen the ghosts on Pluto's shore,

So have I seen the flowers in spring arise,

So have I seen the leaves in autumn fall,

So have I seen the fruits in summer smile,

So have I seen the snow in winter frown.

_King._ D--n all thou hast seen!--dost thou, beneath the shape

Of Gaffer Thumb, come hither to abuse me

With similes, to keep me on the rack?

Hence--or, by all the torments of thy hell,

I'll run thee through the body, though thou'st none.[172]

_Ghost._ Arthur, beware! I must this moment hence,

Not frighted by your voice, but by the cocks!

Arthur, beware, beware, beware, beware!

Strive to avert thy yet impending fate;

For, if thou'rt kill'd to-day,

To-morrow all thy care will come too late.

SCENE III.

KING, _solus_.

_King._ Oh! stay, and leave me not uncertain thus!

And, whilst thou tellest me what's like my fate,

Oh! teach me how I may avert it too!

Curs'd be the man who first a simile made!

Curs'd ev'ry bard who writes--So have I seen!

Those whose comparisons are just and true,

And those who liken things not like at all.

The devil is happy that the whole creation

Can furnish out no simile to his fortune.

SCENE IV.

KING, QUEEN.

_Queen._ What is the cause, my Arthur, that you steal

Thus silently from Dollallolla's breast?

Why dost thou leave me in the dark alone,[173]

When well thou know'st I am afraid of sprites?

_King._ Oh, Dollallolla! do not blame my love!

I hoped the fumes of last night's punch had laid

Thy lovely eyelids fast; but, oh! I find

There is no power in drams to quiet wives;

Each morn, as the returning sun, they wake,

And shine upon their husbands.

_Queen._ Think, oh, think!

What a surprise it must be to the sun,

Rising, to find the vanish'd world away.

What less can be the wretched wife's surprise

When, stretching out her arms to fold thee fast,

She found her useless bolster in her arms.

Think, think, on that.--Oh! think, think well on that![174]

I do remember also to have read

In Dryden's Ovid's Metamorphoses,[175]

That Jove in form inanimate did lie

With beauteous Danaë: and, trust me, love,

I fear'd the bolster might have been a Jove.[176]

_King._ Come to my arms, most virtuous of thy sex!

Oh, Dollallolla! were all wives like thee,

So many husbands never had worn horns.

Should Huncamunca of thy worth partake,

Tom Thumb indeed were blest.--Oh, fatal name

For didst thou know one quarter what I know,

Then wouldst thou know--alas! what thou wouldst know!

_Queen._ What can I gather hence? Why dost thou speak

Like men who carry rareeshows about?

"Now you shall see, gentlemen, what you shall see."

O, tell me more, or thou hast told too much.

SCENE V.

KING, QUEEN, NOODLE.

_Nood._ Long life attend your majesties serene,

Great Arthur, king, and Dollallolla, queen!

Lord Grizzle, with a bold rebellious crowd,

Advances to the palace, threat'ning loud,

Unless the princess be deliver'd straight,

And the victorious Thumb, without his pate,

They are resolv'd to batter down the gate.

SCENE VI.

KING, QUEEN, HUNCAMUNCA, NOODLE.

_King._ See where the princess comes! Where is Tom Thumb?

_Hunc._ Oh! sir, about an hour and half ago

He sallied out t' encounter with the foe,

And swore, unless his fate had him misled,

From Grizzle's shoulders to cut off his head,

And serve't up with your chocolate in bed.

_King._ 'Tis well, I found one devil told us both.

Come, Dollallolla, Huncamunca, come;

Within we'll wait for the victorious Thumb:

In peace and safety we secure may stay,

While to his arm we trust the bloody fray;

Though men and giants should conspire with gods,

He is alone equal to all these odds.[177]

_Queen._ He is, indeed, a helmet to us all;[178]

While he supports we need not fear to fall;

His arm despatches all things to our wish,

And serves up ev'ry foe's head in a dish.

Void is the mistress of the house of care,

While the good cook presents the bill of fare;

Whether the cod, that northern king of fish,

Or duck, or goose, or pig, adorn the dish,

No fears the number of her guests afford,

But at her hour she sees the dinner on the board.

SCENE VII.--_Plain._

GRIZZLE, FOODLE, REBELS.

_Griz._ Thus far our arms with victory are crown'd;

For, though we have not fought, yet we have found

No enemy to fight withal.[179]

_Food._ Yet I,

Methinks, would willingly avoid this day,

This first of April to engage our foes.[180]

_Griz._ This day, of all the days of the year, I'd choose,

For on this day my grandmother was born.

Gods! I will make Tom Thumb an April-fool;

Will teach his wit an errand it ne'er knew,[181]

And send it post to the Elysian shades.

_Food._ I'm glad to find our army is so stout,

Nor does it move my wonder less than joy.

_Griz._ What friends we have, and how we came so strong,[182]

I'll softly tell you as we march along.

SCENE VIII.--_Thunder and Lightning._

TOM THUMB, GLUMDALCA, _cum suis._

_Thumb._ Oh, Noodle! hast thou seen a day like this?

The unborn thunder rumbles o'er our heads,[183]

As if the gods meant to unhinge the world,[184]

And heaven and earth in wild confusion hurl;

Yet will I boldly tread the tott'ring ball.

_Merl._ Tom Thumb!

_Thumb._ What voice is this I hear?

_Merl._ Tom Thumb!

_Thumb._ Again it calls.

_Merl._ Tom Thumb!

_Glum._ It calls again.

_Thumb._ Appear, whoe'er thou art; I fear thee not.

_Merl._ Thou hast no cause to fear--I am thy friend,

Merlin by name, a conjuror by trade,

And to my art thou dost thy being owe.

_Thumb._ How?

_Merl._ Hear, then, the mystic getting of Tom Thumb.

His father was a ploughman plain,

His mother milk'd the cow;

And yet the way to get a son

This couple knew not how,

Until such time the good old man

To learned Merlin goes,

And there to him, in great distress,

In secret manner shows

How in his heart he wish'd to have

A child, in time to come,

To be his heir, though it may be

No bigger than his thumb:

Of which old Merlin was foretold

That he his wish should have;

And so a son of stature small

The charmer to him gave.[185]

Thou'st heard the past--look up and see the future.

_Thumb._ Lost in amazement's gulf, my senses sink;[186]

See there, Glumdalca, see another me![187]

_Glum._ O, sight of horror! see, you are devour'd

By the expanded jaws of a red cow.

_Merl._ Let not these sights deter thy noble mind,

For, lo! a sight more glorious courts thy eyes.[188]

See from afar a theatre arise;

There ages, yet unborn, shall tribute pay

To the heroic actions of this day;

Then buskin tragedy at length shall choose

Thy name the best supporter of her muse.

_Thumb._ Enough: let every warlike music sound.

We fall contented, if we fall renown'd.

SCENE IX.

LORD GRIZZLE, FOODLE, REBELS, _on one side_; TOM THUMB, GLUMDALCA, _on

the other._

_Food._ At length the enemy advances nigh,

I hear them with my ear, and see them with my eye.[189]

_Griz._ Draw all your swords: for liberty we fight,

And liberty the mustard is of life.[190]

_Thumb._ Are you the man whom men famed Grizzle name?

_Griz._ Are you the much more famed Tom Thumb?[191]

_Thumb._ The same.

_Griz._ Come on, our worth upon ourselves we'll prove;

For liberty I fight.

_Thumb._ And I for love.

[_A bloody engagement between the two armies; drums beating,

trumpets sounding, thunder, lightning, They fight off and on

several times. Some fall._ GRIZZLE _and_ GLUMDALCA _remain._

_Glum._ Turn, coward, turn; nor from a woman fly.

_Griz._ Away--thou art too ignoble for my arm.

_Glum._ Have at thy heart.

_Griz._ Nay, then I thrust at thine.

_Glum._ You push too well; you've run me through the body,

And I am dead.

_Griz._ Then there's an end of one.

_Thumb._ When thou art dead, then there's an end of two.

Villain.[192]

_Griz._ Tom Thumb!

_Thumb._ Rebel!

_Griz._ Tom Thumb!

_Thumb._ Hell!

_Griz._ Huncamunca!

_Thumb._ Thou hast it there.

_Griz._ Too sure I feel it.

_Thumb._ To hell then, like a rebel as you are,

And give my service to the rebels there.

_Griz._ Triumph not, Thumb, nor think thou shalt enjoy

Thy Huncamunca undisturb'd; I'll send

My ghost to fetch her to the other world;[193]

It shall but bait at heaven, and then return.[194]

But, ha! I feel death rumbling in my brains:[195]

Some kinder sprite knocks softly at my soul,[196]

And gently whispers it to haste away.

I come, I come, most willingly I come.

So when some city wife, for country air,

To Hampstead or to Highgate does repair,

Her to make haste her husband does implore,

And cries, "My dear, the coach is at the door:"

With equal wish, desirous to be gone,

She gets into the coach, and then she cries--"Drive on!"

_Thumb._ With those last words he vomited his soul,[197]

Which, like whipt cream, the devil will swallow down.[198]

Bear off the body, and cut off the head,

Which I will to the king in triumph lug.

Rebellion's dead, and now I'll go to breakfast.

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_.

* * * * *

ACT I.--SCENE I.

_Represents a room at an Inn, at Weimar--On one side

of the stage the bar-room, with jellies, lemons in nets,

syllabubs, and part of a cold roast fowl._ &c.--_On the opposite

side a window looking into the street, through which

persons (inhabitants of Weimar) are seen passing to and fro

in apparent agitation_.--MATILDA _appears in a great-coat

and riding habit, seated at the corner of the dinner-table,

which is covered with a clean huckaback cloth_.--_Plates and

napkins, with buck's-horn-handled knives and forks, are

laid as if for four persons_.

MATILDA.

_Mat._ Is it impossible for me to have dinner sooner?

_Land._ Madam, the Brunswick post-waggon is not yet come in,

and the ordinary is never before two o'clock.

_Mat._ [_with a look expressive of disappointment, but immediately

recomposing herself._] Well, then, I must have patience.

[_Exit Landlady._] Oh Casimere! How often have the thoughts

of thee served to amuse these moments of expectation! What

a difference, alas! Dinner--it is taken away as soon as over,

and we regret it not! It returns again with the return of

appetite. The beef of to-morrow will succeed to the mutton of

to-day, as the mutton of to-day succeeded to the veal of yesterday.

But when once the heart has been occupied by a beloved

object, in vain would we attempt to supply the chasm by

another. How easily are our desires transferred from dish to

dish! Love only, dear, delusive, delightful love, restrains our

wandering appetites, and confines them to a particular

gratification!...

_Post-horn blows._--_Re-enter_ LANDLADY.

_Land._ Madam, the post-waggon is come in with only a single gentlewoman.

_Mat._ Then show her up--and let us have dinner instantly; [_Landlady

going_] and remember--[_after a moment's recollection, and with great

eagerness_]--remember the toasted cheese.

[_Exit_ LANDLADY.

CECILIA _enters, in a brown cloth riding-dress, as if just alighted from

the post-waggon._

_Mat._ Madam, you seem to have had an unpleasant journey, if I may judge

from the dust on your riding-habit.

_Cec._ The way was dusty, madam, but the weather was delightful. It

recall'd to me those blissful moments when the rays of desire first

vibrated through my soul.

_Mat._ [_aside_.] Thank Heaven! I have at last found a heart which is

in unison with my own [_to Cecilia_.] Yes, I understand you--the first

pulsation of sentiment--the silver tones upon the yet unsounded harp....

_Cec._ The dawn of life--when this blossom [_putting her hand upon her

heart_] first expanded its petals to the penetrating dart of love!

_Mat._ Yes--the time--the golden time, when the first beams of the

morning meet and embrace one another! The blooming blue upon the yet

unplucked plum!...

_Cec._ Your countenance grows animated, my dear madam.

_Mat._ And yours too is glowing with illumination.

_Cec._ I had long been looking out for a congenial spirit! My heart was

withered, but the beams of yours have rekindled it.

_Mat._ A sudden thought strikes me: let us swear an eternal friendship.

_Cec._ Let us agree to live together!

_Mat._ Willingly. [_With rapidity and earnestness._

_Cec._ Let us embrace. [_They embrace._

_Mat._ Yes; I too have loved!--you, too, like me, have been forsaken!

[_Doubtingly and as if with a desire to be informed._

_Cec._ Too true!

_Both._ Ah, these men! these men!

LANDLADY _enters, and places a leg of mut'on on the table, with sour

krout and prune sauce_--_then a small dish of black puddings._ CECILIA

_and_ MATILDA _appear to take no notice of her._

_Mat._ Oh, Casimere!

_Cec._ [_aside_.] Casimere! that name! Oh, my heart, how it is distracted

with anxiety.

_Mat._ Heavens! Madam, you turn pale.

_Cec._ Nothing--a slight megrim--with your leave, I will retire.

_Mat._ I will attend you.

[_Exeunt_ MATILDA _and_ CECILIA. _Manent_ LANDLADY _and_ WAITER

_with the dinner on the table_.

_Land._ Have you carried the dinner to the prisoner in the vaults of the

abbey!

_Waiter._ Yes. Pease-soup, as usual--with the scrag-end of a neck of

mutton--the emissary of the Count was here again this morning, and

offered me a large sum of money if I would consent to poison him.

_Land._ Which you refused? [_With hesitation and anxiety._

_Waiter._ Can you doubt it? [_With indignation._

_Land._ [_recovering herself, and drawing up with an expression of

dignity_.] The conscience of a poor man is as valuable to him as that of

a prince.

_Waiter._ It ought to be still more so, in proportion as it is generally

more pure.

_Land._ Thou say'st truly, Job.

_Waiter_ [_with enthusiasm_.] He who can spurn at wealth when proffer'd

as the price of crime, is greater than a prince.

_Post-horn blows. Enter_ CASIMERE, _in a travelling dress--a light blue

great-coat with large metal buttons--his hair in a long queue, but

twisted at the end; a large Kevenhuller hat; a cane in his hand._

_Cas._ Here, waiter, pull of my boots, and bring me a pair of slippers

[_Exit_ WAITER.] And heark'ye, my lad, a bason of water [_rubbing his

hands_] and a bit of soap--I have not washed since I began my journey.

_Waiter_ [_answering from behind the door_.] Yes, sir.

_Cas._ Well, landlady, what company are we to have?

_Land._ Only two gentlewomen, sir. They are just stepp'd into the next

room--they will be back again in a minute.

_Cas._ Where do they come from?

[_All this while the_ WAITER _re-enters with the bason and water_,

CASIMERE _pulls off his boots, takes a napkin from the table, and

washes his face and hands_.

_Land._ There is one of them, I think, comes from Nuremburgh.

_Cas._ [_aside_.] From Nuremburgh; [_with eagerness_] her name?

_Land._ Matilda.

_Cas._ [_aside_.] How does this idiot woman torment me! What else?

_Land._ I can't recollect.

_Cas._ Oh agony! [_In a paroxysm of agitation._

_Waiter._ See here, her name upon the travelling trunk--Matilda Pottingen.

_Cas._ Ecstasy! ecstasy! [_Embracing the_ WAITER.

_Land._ You seem to be acquainted with the lady--shall I call her?

_Cas._ Instantly--instantly--tell her, her loved, her, long lost--tell

her----

_Land._ Shall I tell her dinner is ready?

_Cas._ Do so--and in the meanwhile I will look after my portmanteau.

[_Exeunt severally._

_Scene changes to a subterraneous vault in the Abbey of

Quedlinburgh, with coffins, 'scutcheous, Death's heads and

cross-bones._--_Toads, and other loathsome reptiles are seen

traversing the obscurer parts of the Stage._--ROGERO _appears

in chains, in a suit of rusty armour, with his beard grown,

and a cap of a grotesque form upon his head._--_Beside him a

crock, or pitcher, supposed to contain his daily allowance of

sustenance._--_A long silence, during which the wind is heard to

whistle through the caverns._--ROGERO _rises, and comes slowly

forward, with his arms folded._

_Rog._ Eleven years! it is now eleven years since I was first

immured in this living sepulchre--the cruelty of a minister--the

perfidy of a monk--yes, Matilda! for thy sake--alive amidst the

dead--chained--coffined--confined--cut off from the converse of my

fellow-men. Soft! what have we here? [_stumbles over a bundle of

sticks_.] This cavern is so dark, that I can scarcely distinguish the

objects under my feet. Oh! the register of my captivity. Let me see,

how stands the account? [_takes up the sticks and turns them over with

a melancholy air; then stands silent for a few moments, as if absorbed

in calculation_.] Eleven years and fifteen days! Hah! the twenty-eighth

of August! How does the recollection of it vibrate on my heart! It was

on this day that I took my last leave of my Matilda. It was a summer

evening--her melting hand seemed to dissolve in mine, as I press'd it to

my bosom. Some demon whispered me that I should never see her more. I

stood gazing on the hated vehicle which was conveying her away for ever.

The tears were petrified under my eyelids. My heart was crystallized with

agony. Anon, I looked along the road. The diligence seemed to diminish

every instant. I felt my heart beat against its prison, as if anxious

to leap out and overtake it. My soul whirled round as I watched the

rotation of the hinder wheels. A long trail of glory followed after her,

and mingled with the dust--it was the emanation of Divinity, luminous

with love and beauty, like the splendour of the setting sun; but it told

me that the sun of my joys was sunk for ever. Yes, here in the depths

of an eternal dungeon--in the nursing cradle of hell--the suburbs of

perdition --in a nest of demons, where despair, in vain, sits brooding

over the putrid eggs of hope; where agony woos the embrace of death;

where patience, beside the bottomless pool of despondency, sits angling

for impossibilities. Yet even _here_, to behold her, to embrace her--yes,

Matilda, whether in this dark abode, amidst toads and spiders, or in a

royal palace, amidst the more loathsome reptiles of a Court, would be

indifferent to me. Angels would shower down their hymns of gratulation

upon our heads--while fiends would envy the eternity of suffering

love.... Soft, what air was that? it seemed a sound of more than human

warblings. Again [_listens attentively for some minutes_]--only the wind.

It is well, however; it reminds me of that melancholy air which has so

often solaced the hours of my captivity. Let me see whether the damps of

this dungeon have not yet injured my guitar. [_Takes his guitar, tunes

it, and begins the following air, with a full accompaniment of violins

from the orchestra._]

[AIR, _Lanterna Magica._]

SONG.

BY ROGERO.

I.

Whene'er with haggard eyes I view

This dungeon that I'm rotting in,

I think of those companions true

Who studied with me at the U--

--niversity of Gottingen,--

--niversity of Gottingen.

[_Weeps, and pulls out a blue kerchief, with which he wipes his

eyes; gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds_--

II.

Sweet kerchief, check'd with heavenly blue,

Which once my love sat knotting in!--

Alas! Matilda _then_ was true!--

At least I thought so at the U--

--niversity of Gottingen--

--niversity of Gottingen.

[_At the repetition of this line,_ ROGERO _clanks his chains in

cadence._

III.

Barbs! barbs! alas! how swift you flew,

Her neat post-waggon trotting in!

Ye bore Matilda from my view;

Forlorn I languish'd at the U--

--niversity of Gottingen--

--niversity of Gottingen.

IV.

This faded form! this pallid hue!

This blood my veins is clotting in,

My years are many--they were few

When first I entered at the U--

--niversity of Gottingon--

--niversity of Gottingen.

V.

There first for thee my passion grew,

Sweet! sweet Matilda Pottingen!

Thou wast the daughter of my tu--

--tor, Law Professor at the U--

--niversity of Gottingen--

--niversity of Gottingen.

VI.

Sun, moon, and thou, vain world, adieu,

That kings and priests are plotting in:

Here doom'd to starve on water gru--

--el, never shall I see the U--

--niversity of Gottingen--

--niversity of Gottingen.

[_During the last stanza_, ROGERO _dashes his head repeatedly

against the walls of his prison; and, finally, so hard as to

produce a visible contusion. He then throws himself on the floor

in an agony. The curtain drops--the music still continuing to play

till it is wholly fallen._

* * * * *

We have received, in the course of the last week, several long, and to

say the truth, dull letters, from unknown hands, reflecting, in very

severe terms, on Mr. Higgins, for having, as it is affirmed, attempted

to pass upon the world, as a faithful sample of the productions of the

German Theatre, a performance no way resembling any of those pieces,

which have of late excited, and which bid fair to engross the admiration

of the British public.

As we cannot but consider ourselves as the guardians of Mr. Higgins's

literary reputation, in respect to every work of his which is conveyed

to the world through the medium of our paper (though, what we think of

the danger of his principles, we have already sufficiently explained for

ourselves, and have, we trust, succeeded in putting our readers upon

their guard against them)--we hold ourselves bound not only to justify

the fidelity of the imitation, but (contrary to our original intention)

to give a further specimen of it in our present number, in order to bring

the question more fairly to issue between our author and his calumniators.

In the first place, we are to observe that Mr. Higgins professes to

have taken his notion of German plays wholly from the translations which

have appeared in our language. If _they_ are totally dissimilar from

the originals, Mr. H. may undoubtedly have been led into error; but the

fault is in the translators, not in him. That he does not differ widely

from the models which he proposed to himself, we have it in our power

to prove satisfactorily; and might have done so in our last number, by

subjoining to each particular passage of his play, the scene in some one

or other of the German plays, which he had in view when he wrote it.

These parallel passages were faithfully pointed out to us by Mr. H. with

that candour which marks his character; and if they were suppressed by

us (as in truth they were), on our heads be the blame, whatever it may

be. Little, indeed, did we think of the imputation which the omission

would bring upon Mr. H., as, in fact, our principal reason for it was the

apprehension that, from the extreme closeness of the imitation in most

instances, he would lose in praise for invention more than he would gain

in credit for fidelity.

The meeting between Matilda and Cecilia, for example, in the first

act of the "Rovers," and their sudden intimacy, has been censured as

unnatural. Be it so. It is taken _almost word for word_ from "Stella,"

a German (or professedly a German) piece now much in vogue; from which

also the catastrophe of Mr. Higgins's play is in part borrowed, so far as

relates to the agreement to which the ladies come, as the reader will see

by-and-by, to share Casimere between them.

The dinner scene is copied partly from the published translation of the

"Stranger," and partly from the first scene of "Stella." The song of

Rogero, with which the first act concludes, is admitted on all hands to

be in the very first taste; and if no German original is to be found for

it, so much the worse for the credit of German literature.

An objection has been made by one anonymous letter-writer, to the names

of Puddingfield and Beefington, as little likely to have been assigned

to English characters by any author of taste or discernment. In answer

to this objection, we have, in the first place, to admit that a small,

and we hope not an unwarrantable alteration has been made by us since

the MS. has been in our hands. These names stood originally Puddincrantz

and Beefinstern, which sounded to our ears as being liable, especially

the latter, to a ridiculous inflection--a difficulty that could only be

removed by furnishing them with English terminations. With regard to the

more substantial syllables of the names, our author proceeded in all

probability on the authority of Goldoni, who, though not a German, is an

Italian writer of considerable reputation; and who, having heard that

the English were distinguished for their love of liberty and beef, has

judiciously compounded the two words _Runnymede_ and _beef_, and thereby

produced an English nobleman, whom he styles _Lord Runnybeef_.

To dwell no longer on particular passages--the best way perhaps of

explaining the whole scope and view of Mr. H.'s imitation, will be to

transcribe the short sketch of the plot, which that gentleman transmitted

to us, together with his drama; and which it is perhaps the more

necessary to give at length, as the limits of our paper not allowing of

the publication of the whole piece, some general knowledge of its main

design may be acceptable to our readers, in order to enable them to judge

of the several extracts which we lay before them.

PLOT.