royal consort himself the assurance that the finances of the government
are so exhausted by the late wars that he cannot consent to advance the
necessary funds for fitting out an expedition of the kind proposed.
_I._ Be mine, then, the privilege! I have jewels, by the pledging of
which I can raise the amount required; and I have resolved that they
shall be pledged to this enterprise without more delay.
_Col._ Your Majesty shall not repent your heroic resolve. I will
return—be sure I will return—and lay at your feet such a jewel as
never queen wore yet, an imperishable fame that shall couple with your
memory the benedictions of millions yet unborn in climes yet unknown to
civilized man. There is a conviction in my mind that your Majesty will
live to bless the hour you came to this decision.
THE MILL ON THE FLOSS.
GEORGE ELIOT.
Characters:
TOM TULLIVER.
MAGGIE TULLIVER.
_Maggie._ I’ll help you now, Tom. I’ve come to the school to stay ever so
long. I’ve brought my box and my pinafores—haven’t I, father?
_Tom._ _You_ help me, you silly little thing! I should like to see you
doing one of my lessons. Why, I learn Latin, too. Girls never learn such
things. They’re too silly.
_M._ I know what Latin is very well. Latin’s a language. There are Latin
words in the dictionary. There’s _bonus_, a gift.
_T._ Now you’re just wrong there, Miss Maggie. You think you’re very
wise. But “bonus” means “good,” as it happens—bonus, bona, bonum.
_M._ Well, that’s no reason why it shouldn’t mean “gift.” It may mean
several things—almost every word does. There’s “lawn”—it means the
grass-plot as well as the stuff pocket-handkerchiefs are made of.
_T._ Now, then, come with me into the study, Maggie.
_M._ Oh, what books! How I should like to have as many books as that!
_T._ Why, you couldn’t read one of ’em. They’re all Latin.
_M._ No, they aren’t. I can read the back of this, “History of the
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.”
_T._ Well, what does that mean? _You_ don’t know.
_M._ But I could soon find out. I should look inside and see what it was
about.
_T._ Oh, I say, Maggie, we must keep quiet here, you know. If we break
anything, we’ll have to cry peccavi.
_M._ What’s that?
_T._ It’s the Latin for a good scolding.
_M._ Is your Mrs. Stelling a cross woman, Tom?
_T._ I believe you!
_M._ I think all women are crosser than men. Aunt Glegg’s a great deal
crosser than Uncle Glegg, and mother scolds me more than father does.
_T._ Well, you’ll be a woman some day, so _you_ needn’t talk.
_M._ But I shall be a _clever_ woman, Tom.
_T._ Oh, I dare say, and a nasty conceited thing. Everybody’ll hate you.
_M._ But you oughtn’t to hate me, Tom. It will be very wicked of you, for
I shall be your sister.
_T._ Oh, bother! Come, it’s time for me to learn my lessons. Just see
what I’ve got to do!
* * * * *
Characters:
Mrs. TULLIVER.
Mrs. PULLET.
_Mrs. P._ My new bonnet has come home, Bessy.
_Mrs. T._ Has it, sister? And how do you like it?
_Mrs. P._ It’s apt to make a mess with clothes, taking them out and
putting them in again. But it would be a pity for you to go away without
seeing it. There’s no knowing what may happen.
_Mrs. T._ I’m afraid it’ll be troublesome to you getting it out, sister;
but I should like to see what kind of a crown she’s made you.
_Mrs. P._ You’d like to see it on, sister? I’ll open the shutter a bit
farther.
_Mrs. T._ Well, if you don’t mind taking off your cap, sister.
_Mrs. P._ I’ve sometimes thought there’s a loop too much of ribbon on the
left side, sister. What do _you_ think?
_Mrs. T._ Well, I think it’s best as it is. If you meddled with it,
sister, you might repent. How much might she charge you for that bonnet,
sister?
_Mrs. P._ Pullet pays for it. He said I was to have the best bonnet at
Garum Church, let the next best be whose it would. I may never wear it
twice, sister; who knows?
_Mrs. T._ Don’t talk of that, sister. I hope you’ll keep your health this
summer.
_Mrs. P._ But there may come a death in the family, as there did soon
after I had my green satin bonnet.
_Mrs. T._ That _would_ be unlucky. There’s never so much pleasure in
wearing a bonnet a second year, especially when the crowns are so
chancy—never two summers alike.
_Mrs. P._ Ah, it’s the way of the world! Sister, if you should never see
that bonnet again till I’m dead and gone, you’ll remember I showed it to
you this very day.
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
SUSAN WARNER.
Characters:
RUFUS LANDHOLM.
WINTHROP LANDHOLM.
_Rufus._ We’ve got the farm in pretty good order now.
_Winthrop._ Yes, father has, if those stumps were once out. We ought to
have good crops this year of most things.
_R._ I am sure I have spent four or five years of _my_ life in hard work
upon it.
_W._ Your life ain’t much the worse for it. Father has spent more than
that. How hard he has worked—to make this farm!
_R._ It was a pretty tough subject to begin with; but now it’s the
handsomest farm in the county. It ought to pay considerable after this.
_W._ It hasn’t brought us in much so far, Rufus, except just to keep
along; and a pretty tight fit at that.
_R._ If the farm was clear, I’d stand the chance of its paying. It’s that
keeps us down—the debt.
_W._ Debt! What debt?
_R._ The interest on the mortgage.
_W._ What is the debt?
_R._ Several thousands, I believe.
_W._ You and I must pay off that money, Rufus.
_R._ Ay; but still there’s the question, which is the best way to do it?
_W._ The best way, I’ve a notion, is not to take too long noon-spells in
the afternoon.
_R._ Stop a bit. Sit down again; I want to speak to you. Do you want to
spend all your life following the oxen?
_W._ What is the matter, Rufus?
_R._ Matter! Why, Winthrop, that I am not willing to stay here and be a
ploughman all my life, when I might be something better.
_W._ How can you be anything better, Rufus?
_R._ Do you think all the world is like this little world which these
hills shut in? There is another sort of world, Winthrop, where people
know something; where other things are to be done than running plough
furrows; where men may read and write—do something great—distinguish
themselves. I want to be in that world.
_W._ But what will you do, Rufus, to get into that world? We are shut in
here.
_R._ _I_ am not shut in! I will live for something greater than this!
_W._ So would I, if I could; but what are we to do?
_R._ There is only one thing to do. I shall go to college.
_W._ But some preparation is necessary, Rufus; isn’t it? How will you get
that? Father wants us this summer. We are just beginning to help him.
_R._ We can help him much better the other way. Farming is the most
miserable slow way of making money that ever was contrived.
_W._ How do _you_ propose to make money, Rufus?
_R._ I don’t know. I am not thinking about making money at present.
_W._ It takes a great deal to go to college, don’t it?
_R._ Yes. But I intend to go, Winthrop.
_W._ Yes, you’ll go.
_R._ I’ll _try_ for it.
_W._ _And you’ll get it, too_, Rufus!
MISTRESS AND MAID.
DINAH MULOCK CRAIK.
Characters:
SELINA LEAF.
HILARY LEAF.
_Selina._ I’m sure I don’t know how we are to manage with Elizabeth. That
greedy—
_Hilary._ And growing—
_S._ I say that greedy girl eats as much as both of us. And as for her
clothes—her mother doesn’t keep her decent.
_H._ She would find it hard on three pounds a year.
_S._ Hilary, how dare you contradict me? I am only stating a plain fact.
_H._ And I another. But, indeed, I don’t want to talk, Selina.
_S._ You never do except when you are wished to be silent, and then your
tongue goes like any race-horse.
_H._ Does it? Well, like Gilpin’s,
“It carries weight, it rides a race,
’Tis for a thousand pound!”
—and I only wish it were. Heigh-ho! If I could but earn a thousand pounds!
_S._ I’m sure she was as black as a chimney-sweep all to-day. Her
pinafore had three rents in it, which she never thinks of mending, though
I gave her needles and thread myself a week ago. She doesn’t know how to
use them any more than a baby.
_H._ Possibly nobody ever taught her.
_S._ Yes, she went for a year to the National School, she says.
_H._ Well, her forte is certainly children. She is wonderfully patient
with our troublesome scholars.
_S._ You always find something to say for her.
_H._ I should be ashamed if I could not find something to say for anybody
who is always abused. How can I help it, Selina, if a girl fifteen years
old is not a paragon of perfection? as we all are, if we only could find
it out.
_S._ Her month ends to-morrow. Let her go.
_H._ And perhaps get in her place a story-teller, a tale-bearer, even a
thief. By the bye, the first step in the civilization of the Polynesians
was giving them clothes. Suppose we try the experiment with Elizabeth?
THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII.
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON.
City destroyed, A.D. August 24, 79. Discovered, 1750.
Characters:
CLODIUS, }
PAUSA, } Citizens.
_Clodius._ When is our next wild-beast fight?
_Pausa._ It stands fixed for the ninth ide of August. We have a most
lovely young lion for the occasion.
_C._ Whom shall we get for him to eat? Alas! there is a great scarcity of
criminals. You must positively find some innocent or other to condemn to
the lion, Pausa.
_P._ Indeed, I have thought very seriously about it of late. It was a
most infamous law which forbade us to send our own slaves to the wild
beasts. Not to let us do what we like with our own! That’s what I call an
infringement on property itself.
_C._ Not so in the good old days of the Republic.
_P._ And then this pretended mercy to the slaves is such a disappointment
to the poor people. How they do love to see a good tough battle between a
man and a lion! And all this innocent pleasure they may lose—if the gods
don’t send us a good criminal soon—from this cursed law.
_C._ What can be worse policy than to interfere with the manly amusements
of the people?
_P._ Well, thank Jupiter and the Fates! We have no Nero at present.
_C._ He was, indeed, a tyrant. He shut up our amphitheatre for ten years.
_P._ I wonder it didn’t create a rebellion.
_C._ As it very nearly did.
* * * * *
Characters:
GLAUCUS, }
SALLUST, }
LEPIDUS, } Citizens.
_Sallust._ Ah, it is a lustrum since I saw you!
_Glaucus._ And how have you spent the lustrum? What new dishes have you
discovered?
_S._ I have been scientific, and have made some experiments in the
feeding of lampreys. I confess I despair of bringing them to the
perfection which our Roman ancestors attained.
_G._ Miserable man! and why?
_S._ Because it is no longer lawful to give them a slave to eat. But
slaves are not slaves nowadays, and have no sympathy with their masters’
interest, or one of mine would destroy himself to oblige me.
_Lepidus._ What news from Rome?
_S._ The emperor has been giving a splendid supper to the senators.
_L._ He is a good creature. They say he never sends a man away without
granting his request.
_S._ Perhaps he would let me kill a slave for my reservoir?
_G._ Not unlikely; for he who grants a favor to one Roman must always
do it at the expense of another. Be sure that for every smile Titus has
caused a hundred eyes have wept.
_S._ Long live Titus! He has promised my brother a quæstorship because he
has run through his fortune.
_L._ And wishes now to enrich himself among the people.
_S._ Exactly so.
_G._ That is putting the people to some use. Well, let us to the baths.
This is the time when all the world is there, and Fulvius, whom you
admire so much, is going to read us an ode.
RUTH HALL.
FANNY FERN.
Characters:
Mrs. HENRY HALL.
Mrs. RUTH HALL, Daughter-in-law.
_Mrs. H._ Good morning, Ruth; _Mrs. Hall_, I suppose, I _should_ call
you, only that I can’t get used to being shoved aside so suddenly.
_Ruth._ Oh, pray don’t say Mrs. Hall to _me_. Call me any name that best
pleases you; I shall be quite satisfied.
_Mrs. H._ I suppose you understand all about housekeeping, Ruth?
_Ruth._ No. I have but just returned from boarding-school.
_Mrs. H._ It is a great pity you were not brought up properly. Harry has
his fortune yet to make, you know. Young people nowadays seem to think
money comes in showers. Harry has been brought up sensibly. He has been
taught economy. Do you know how to iron, Ruth?
_Ruth._ Yes. I have sometimes clear-starched my own muslins and laces.
_Mrs. H._ Glad to hear it. Can you make bread? When I say _bread_, I
_mean_ bread,—none of your soda, saleratus mixtures,—old-fashioned
yeast-_riz_ bread. Do you know how to make it?
_Ruth._ No. People in the city always buy baker’s bread; my father did.
_Mrs. H._ Your father! Land’s sake, child, you mustn’t quote your father,
now you’re married. I hope you won’t be always running home, or running
anywhere, in fact. Do you know I should like your looks better if you
didn’t curl your hair?
_Ruth._ I don’t curl it; it curls naturally.
_Mrs. H._ That’s a pity. You should avoid everything that looks
frivolous. And, Ruth, if you should feel the need of exercise, don’t gad
in the streets. There is nothing like a broom and a dust-pan to make
the blood circulate. I hope you don’t read novels and such trash. I
have a very select little library containing a most excellent sermon on
Predestination by our good old minister, Dr. Diggs. Any time you stand in
need of _rational_ reading, come to me.
DIOGENES AND PLATO ON PRIDE.
T. A. BLAND.
_Diogenes._ Fie on thy philosophy, Plato! In spite of all, thou art the
veriest of aristocrats, while philosophy teacheth humility.
_Plato._ Thou hast spoken truly, Diogenes, but not in wisdom; thy speech
is wise, ’tis true, but thy thought is foolish. That I am proud, I own,
and that I am a democrat, I do most sincerely maintain.
_D._ Now thou speakest in riddles. Thy words are double, and thy answer
as the answer of the fool.
_P._ Gently, Diogenes. Anger not thy mind with quick speech that is
void of wisdom. Let us inquire into this matter with the calmness
and deliberation befitting the dignity of philosophy. Is not pride
self-respect, and is not self-respect an admirable virtue?
_D._ Nay, nay, Plato. Thou art surely in the wrong here. Pride is vanity,
and it leadeth to contempt for the merits of thy fellows. Thus is
aristocracy fostered.
_P._ If it were as you affirm, then would I quickly eschew pride. But I
do not so hold, nor did Socrates. Methinks it were vanity, and not pride,
thou wouldst condemn, Diogenes, and pride and vanity, I hold, are very
different matters.
_D._ Thy reasons? Give me thy reasons for this opinion. I do maintain
that pride is the root and substance of vanity.
_P._ Then thou dost surely not think wisely. To be proud is to esteem
one’s self, while the vain man is anxious about the praise of the mob.
Pride is self-reliant, confident, courageous. Vanity is fawning, anxious,
and cowardly. And thou, too, art proud, Diogenes. Thy contempt for
what thou callest my pride is the offspring of thy greater pride. Thou
believest in the wisdom of Diogenes more than in that of Plato. Is not
this thy pride?
_D._ But Plato lives in a palace and clothes his person with costly
raiment. Diogenes despiseth costly raiment and lives in a tub.
_P._ Diogenes is therefore shown to be not only prouder than Plato, but
vainer also.
_D._ Vain, dost thou say, Plato? Art in thy right mind to call Diogenes
vain?
_P._ I call thee vain, Diogenes, and if thou but hear me I will prove
it. Thou art vain of thy fame, for thou art famous for thy humility.
Thou art proud of thy wisdom, also, Diogenes, and vain of thy learning.
Thou thinkest that thou art wiser than Plato, else thou wouldst become
his disciple; and richer than Alexander, else thou wouldst not scorn his
gifts. ’Tis Diogenes who is the aristocrat. He thinks himself better than
others, and is therefore above his fellows.
_D._ Hold thee there, Plato. Thou surely doest me wrong. Do I not live
like a peasant, and scorn only the rich and they that are in high
places; and is that pride?
_P._ Thou dost indeed wear the garb of a peasant, but thou also carriest
a lantern to search for an honest man, boldly proclaiming that until such
a man is found thou wilt live alone. Is not this virtuous aristocracy?
Fie on thy democracy, Diogenes! By thine own argument thou art a greater
aristocrat than Plato. But learn this, and add it to thy stock of wisdom:
True pride is consistent with philosophy, and philosophy is the foe of
vanity.
LORNA DOONE.
R. D. BLACKMORE.
Place, London; time, about 1680; reign of James II.
Characters:
JOHN RIDD, a countryman.
Judge GEORGE JEFFREYS, Lord Chief Justice of England.
_J. R._ May it please your worship, here I am, according to order,
awaiting your good pleasure.
_J. J._ Thou art made to weight, John, more than order. How much dost
thou tip the scales to?
_J. R._ Only twelve score pounds, my lord, when I be in wrestling trim.
And sure I must have lost weight here, fretting so long in London.
_J. J._ Ha, much fret there is in thee! Has his Majesty seen thee?
_J. R._ Yes, my lord, twice, or even thrice, and he made some jest
concerning me.
_J. J._ A very poor one, I doubt not. Now, is there in thy neighborhood
at Exmoor a certain nest of robbers, miscreants, and outlaws, whom all
men fear to handle?
_J. R._ Yes, my lord; at least I believe some of them be robbers; and all
of them are outlaws.
_J. J._ And what is your high-sheriff about that he doth not hang them
all? Or send them up for me to hang, without more to do about it?
_J. R._ I reckon that he is afraid, my lord. It is not safe to meddle
with them. They are of good birth, and reckless, and their place is very
strong.
_J. J._ Good birth! What was Lord Russell of, Lord Essex, and Sidney?
’Tis the surest heirship to the block to be the chip of an old one. What
is the name of this pestilent race, and how many of them are there?
_J. R._ They are the Doones of Bagworthy Forest, may it please your
worship. And we reckon there be about forty of them, besides the women
and children.
_J. J._ Forty Doones all forty thieves! How long have they been there,
then?
_J. R._ Before the great war they came, longer back than I can remember.
_J. J._ Ay, long before thou wast born, John. Good, thou speakest
plainly. Woe betide a liar, whenso I get hold of him. Ye need me on the
Western Circuit, and ye shall have me when London traitors are hung and
swung. Now, a few more things, John Ridd, and, for the present, I have
done with thee. Is there any sound, round your way of disaffection to his
most gracious Majesty?
_J. R._ No, my lord; no sign whatever. We pray for him in church, and
talk about him afterward, hoping it may do him good, as it is intended.
But after that we have naught to say, not knowing much about him—at least
till I get home again.
_J. J._ That is as it should be, John, and the less you say the better.
Now, John, I have taken a liking to thee; for never man told me the
truth, without fear or favor, more truly than thou hast done. I meant to
use thee as my tool, but thou art too honest and simple; and never let
me find thee, John, a tool for the other side, or a tube for my words to
pass through.
THE MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.
Characters:
AUNT TABITHA.
LAURA.
_A. T._ Thy grandmother, child, thy grandmother used to play upon a much
better instrument than thine.
_L._ Indeed; how could it have been better? You know a piano is the most
fashionable instrument, and is used by everybody that is _anything_.
_A. T._ Thy grandmother was _something_, yet she never saw a piano-forte.
_L._ But what was the name of the instrument? Had it strings, and was it
played by the hand?
_A. T._ You must give me time to recollect the name. It was, indeed, a
stringed instrument, and was played with the hand.
_L._ By the hands alone? How vulgar! But I should really like to see one,
and papa must buy me one when I return to the city. Do you think we can
obtain one?
_A. T._ No; you probably will not obtain one there; but, doubtless, they
may be found in some of the country towns.
_L._ How many strings had it? Must one play with both hands? And could
one play the double-bass?
_A. T._ I know not whether it would play the double-bass, as you call it;
but it was played with both hands, and had two strings.
_L._ Two strings only? Surely you are jesting! How could good music
be procured from such an instrument, when the piano has two or three
hundred?
_A. T._ Oh, the strings were very long, one of them about fourteen feet,
and the other may be lengthened at pleasure, even to fifty feet or more.
_L._ What a prodigious deal of room it must take up! But no matter. I
will have mine in the old hall, and papa may have an addition built to
it, for he says I shall never want for anything, and so does mamma. But
what kind of sound did it make? Were the strings struck with little
mallets, like the piano? or were they snapped like a harp?
_A. T._ Like neither of those instruments, as I recollect; but it
produced a soft kind of humming music, and was peculiarly agreeable to
the husband and relations of the performer.
_L._ Oh, as to pleasing one’s husband or relations, you know that is
altogether vulgar in fashionable society. But I am determined to have
one, at any rate. Was it easily learned? and was it taught by French and
Italian masters?
_A. T._ It was easily learned, but taught neither by Frenchmen nor
Italians.
_L._ Can you not possibly remember the name? How shall we know what to
inquire for?
_A. T._ Yes. I do now remember the name, and you must inquire for a
Spinning-wheel.
PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
A STORY OF THE TRADES-UNIONS.
CHARLES READE.
Characters:
Mr. GROTAIT, Proprietor of The Cutlers’ Arms.
HENRY LITTLE, Inventor, and Manufacturer of Cutlers’ Tools.
_Mr. G._ Well, Mr. Little, now, between ourselves, don’t you think it
rather hard that the poor workman should have to hang and race the
master’s grindstone for nothing?
_Mr. L._ Why, they share the loss between them. The stone costs the
master three pounds, and hanging it only costs the workman four or five
shillings. Where’s the grievance?
_Mr. G._ Hanging and racing a stone shortens the grinder’s life; fills
his lungs with grit. Is the workman to give Life and Labor for a
forenoon, and is Capital to contribute nothing? Is that your view of
Life, Labor, and Capital, young man?
_Mr. L._ That is smart; but a rule of trade is a rule till it is altered
by consent of the parties that made it. Now, right or wrong, it is the
rule of trade here that the small grinders find their own stones and pay
for power. Cheetham is smarting under your rules, and you can’t expect
him to go against any rule that saves him a shilling.
_Mr. G._ What does this grinder—Cheetham—think?
_Mr. L._ You might as well ask what the grindstone thinks.
_Mr. G._ Well, what does the grinder _say_, then?
_Mr. L._ Says he’d rather run the old stone out than lose a forenoon.
_Mr. G._ Well, sir, it is his business.
_Mr. L._ It may be a man’s business to hang himself; but it is the
bystanders’ to hinder him.
_Mr. G._ You mistake me. I mean that the grinder is the only man who
knows whether a stone is safe.
_Mr. L._ But this grinder does not pretend his stone is safe; all he
says is, safe or not, he’ll run it. So now the question is, will you pay
four shillings yourself for this blockhead’s loss of time in hanging
and racing a new stone? Your Union can find money. Why grudge it when
there’s life to be saved, perhaps, and ten times cheaper than you pay for
blood?
_Mr. G._ Young man, did you come here to insult us with these worn-out
slanders?
_Mr. L._ No; but I came to see whether you secretaries, who can find
pounds to assassinate men and blow up women and children with gunpowder,
can find shillings to secure the life of one of your own members.
_Mr. G._ Well, sir, the application is without precedent, and I must
decline it; but this I beg to do as courteously as the application has
been made uncourteously.
_Mr. L._ Oh, it is easy to be polite when you’ve got no heart.
_Mr. G._ You are the first ever brought that charge against me. Now, have
you nothing to say to us on your own account?
_Mr. L._ Not a word!
_Mr. G._ But suppose I could suggest a way by which you could carry on
your trade here and offend nobody?
_Mr. L._ I should decline to hear it. You and I are at war on that. You
have done your worst, and I shall do my best to make you all smart for
it, the moment I get a chance.
_Mr. G._ So be it, then!
PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.
JOHN BUNYAN.
Characters:
FAITHFUL, }
TALKATIVE, } Pilgrims.
_Faith._ Friend, whither away? Are you going to the Heavenly Country?
_Talk._ I am going to the same place.
_F._ That is well. Then I hope we may have your good company.
_T._ With a very good will will I be your companion.