In these Sentiments Mr. Booth and Mr. Cibber concurred with me, who, upon seeing the aforesaid Sketch, both dissuaded me from suffering it to be represented on the Stage; and accordingly it was remanded back to my Shelf, where, probably, it would have perished in Oblivion, had not the Solicitations of the distrest Actors in Drury-Lane prevail’d on me to revise it, at the same time that it came into my Head to add those Scenes concerning our Elections.
Being thus altered, it was often rehearsed on that Theatre, and a particular Day appointed for its Action; but the Giant Cajanus, of a Race who were always Enemies to our poor Don, deferred his Appearance so long, that the Intervention of the Actor’s Benefits would have put it off till the next Season, had I not brought it on where now it appears.
I have troubled the Reader thus long, to account for this Comedy’s appearing as it now does, and that he might distinguish those Parts of it which were the Production of this Season from those which were written in my more juvenile Years, and before most of the Pieces with which I have endeavoured to entertain the Publick.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MEN.
Don Quixote, Mr. Roberts.
Sancho, Mr. Mullart.
Sir Thomas Loveland, Mr. Machen.
Squire Badger, Mr. Macklin.
Fairlove, Mr. Warwell.
Mayor, Mr. Turbutt.
Voter, Mr. Machen.
Guzzle, Mr. Jones.
John, Mr. Hewson.
Brief, a Lawyer, Mr. Topham.
Dr. Drench, a Physician, Mr. Hallam.
Mr. Sneak, Mr. Hicks.
WOMEN.
Dorothea, Miss Atherton.
Jezebel, Mrs. Hide.
Mrs. Guzzle, Mrs. Martin.
Mrs. Sneak, Mrs. Egerton.
Miss Sneak, Miss Jones.
Stage-Coachman and Mob.
SCENE, An Inn in a Country Borough.
INTRODUCTION.
MANAGER, AUTHOR.
MANAGER. NO Prologue, Sir! The Audience will never bear it. They will not bate you any thing of their due.
Auth. I am the Audience’s very humble Servant; but they cannot make a Man write a Prologue, whether he can or no.
Man. Why, Sir, there is nothing easier: I have known an Author bring three or four to the House with one Play, and give us our Choice which we would speak.
Auth. Yes, Sir; and I have now three in my Pocket, written by Friends, of which I choose none should be spoke.
Man. How so?
Auth. Because they have been all spoke already twenty times over.
Man. Let me see them, pray.
Auth. They are written in such damn’d cramp Hands, you will never be able to read them; but I will tell you the Substance of them. One of them begins with abusing the Writings of all my Cotemporaries, lamenting the fallen State of the Stage; and lastly, assuring the Audience that this Play was written with a Design to restore true Taste, and their approving it is the best Symptom they can give of their having any.
Man. Well, and a very good Scheme.
Auth. May be so; but it hath been the Subject of almost every Prologue for these ten Years last past. The Second is in a different Cast: The first twelve Lines inveigh against all Indecency on the Stage, and the last twenty Lines shew you what it is.
Man. That would do better for an Epilogue: But what is the Third?
Auth. Why, the Third has some Wit in it, and would have done very well, but for a Mistake.
Man. Ay! What Mistake?
Auth. Why, the Author never read my Play, and taking it for a regular Comedy of Five Acts, hath fallen very severely on Farce: However, it is a pretty good one, and will do very well for the first genteel Comedy you bring on the Stage.
Man. But don’t you think a Play, with so odd a Title as yours, requires to be a little explain’d? May they not be too much surpris’d at some things?
Auth. Not at all. The Audience, I believe, are all acquainted with the Character of Don Quixote and Sancho. I have brought them over into England, and introduced them at an Inn in the Country, where, I believe, no one will be surpris’d that the Knight finds several People as mad as himself. This I could have told them in forty dull Lines, if I would, but I rather chose to let it alone; for, to tell you the Truth, I can draw but one Conclusion from the Prologues I have ever seen, that the Authors are so sensible of the Demerits of their Plays, that they desire to set the Audience asleep before they begin: But of what real Use is a Bill of Fare to any Entertainment, where the Guests are not left to their Choice what Part they will pick at, but are oblig’d to swallow the Whole indifferently?
Enter a Player.
Play. Sir, the Audience make such a Noise with their Canes, that, if we don’t begin immediately, they will beat the House down before the Play begins; and it is not advisable to put them out of Humour, for there are two or three of the loudest Cat-calls, in the Gallery, that ever were heard.
Auth. Be not frightned at that. Those are only some particular Friends of mine, who are to put on the Face of Enemies at first, and be converted at the End of the First Act.
Man. Order then to play away the Overture immediately. Come, Sir, what do you do with yourself?
Auth. I shall dispose my self in some Part of the House, where I shall see, and not be seen: And I can assure you, Sir, if the Audience are but half as well entertain’d with this Play, as I shall be my self, it will go off with universal Applause.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
SCENE, An Inn.
GUZZLE, SANCHO.
GUZZLE. NEVER tell me, Sir, of Don Quixote, or Don Beelzebub; here’s a Man comes into my House, and eats me out on’t, and then tells me he’s a Knight-Errant; he is an arrant Rogue, and if he does not pay me my Bill, I’ll have a Warrant for him.
San. My Master fears no Warrant, Friend; had you ever been in Spain, you would have known that Men of his Order are above the Law.
Guz. Tell not me of Spain, Sir; I am an Englishman, where no one is above the Law; and if your Master does not pay me, I shall lay his Spaniardship fast in a Place, which he shall find it as difficult to get out of, as your Countrymen have found it to get into Gibraltar.
San. That’s neither here nor there, as the old Saying is; many are shut into one Place, and out of another. Men bar Houses to keep Rogues out, and Jails to keep them in. He that’s hang’d for stealing a Horse to-day, has no reason to buy Oats for him to-morrow.
Guz. Sirrah, your Horse, nor your Ass neither, shall have any more Oats at my Expence; never were Masters and their Beasts so like one another. The Don is just such another lean Ramscallion as his — what d’ye call him — his Rozinante; and thou art just such another squat Bag of Guts as thy Dapple. Send my House and my Stable once well emptied of you, and if ever I suffer a Spaniard to enter my Doors again, may I have a whole Company of Soldiers quartered on me; for if I must be eaten up, I had rather suffer by my own Country Rogues, than foreign ones.
AIR I.
San.
Rogues there are of each Nation,
Except among the Divines;
And Vinegar, since the Creation,
Hath still been made of all Wines.
Against one Lawyer Lurch
A County scarce can guard;
One Parson does for a Church,
One Doctor for a Churchyard.
SCENE II.
Don Quixote, Sancho.
Quix. Sancho!
San. An’t please your Honour —
Quix. Come hither, Sancho, I smell an Adventure.
San. And so do I, an’t please your Worship; the Landlord of the House swears bitterly that he will have a Warrant against us.
Quix. What Landlord! What House! Wilt thou never be in thy Senses? Are we not in a Castle?
San. No, marry are we not; but we are in a fair way to be in one.
Quix. What dost thou mean, Oaf?
San. I mean that I shall see your Honour in a Goal within these two Days.
Quix. Me in a Goal! Ha! Caiti
f!
San. Ay, Sir, we are got into a terrible Country. A Man’s Quality here can’t defend him, if he breaks the Laws.
Quix. Then indeed Knight-Errantry were of no Use: But I tell thee, Caitif, Goals in all Countries are only Habitations for the Poor, not for Men of Quality. If a poor Fellow robs a Man of Fashion of Five Shillings, to Goal with him: But the Man of Fashion may plunder a thousand Poor, and stay in his own House. But know, thou base Squire of the great Don Quixote de la Mancha, that an Adventure now presents it self, not only worthy me, but the united Force of all the Knights upon Earth.
San. Ah, poor Sancho! there’s an end of thee, a Leg or an Arm will not suffice this Bout.
Quix. There is now arrived in this Castle, one of the most accursed Giants that ever infested the Earth. He marches at the Head of his Army, that howl like Turks in an Engagement.
San. Oh Lud! Oh Lud! this is the Country Squire at the Head of his Pack of Dogs.
Quix. What dost thou mutter, Varlet?
San. Why, Sir, this Giant that your Worship talks of, is a Country Gentleman who is going a courting, and his Army is neither more nor less than his Kennel of Fox-Hounds.
Quix. Oh, the prodigious Force of Inchantment! Sirrah, I tell thee this is the Giant Toglogmoglogog, Lord of the Island of Gogmogog, whose Belly hath been the Tomb of above a thousand strong Men.
San. Of above a thousand Hogsheads of strong Beer, I believe.
Quix. This must be the Inchanter Merlin, I know him by his Dogs; but, thou Idiot! dost thou imagine that Women are to be hunted like Hares, that a Man would carry his Hounds with him to visit his Mistress?
San. Sir, your true English Squire and his Hounds are as inseparable as your Spanish and his Toledo. He eats with his Hounds, drinks with his Hounds, and lies with his Hounds; your true Errant English Squire is but the first Dog-Boy in his House.
Quix. ‘Tis pity then, that Fortune should contradict the Order of Nature. It was a wise Institution of Plato to educate Children according to their Minds, not to their Births; these Squires should sow that Corn which they ride over. Sancho, when I see a Gentleman in his own Coach-box, I regret the Loss which some one has had of a Coachman; the Man who toils all Day after a Partridge or a Pheasant, might serve his Country by toiling after a Plough; and when I see a low, mean, tricking Lord, I lament the Loss of an excellent Attorney. [Singing within.] But, hark, some courteous Lady in the Castle prepares an Entertainment for my Ears.
AIR II. Tweed Side.
Oh! think not the Maid whom you scorn,
With Riches delighted can be;
Had I a great Princess been born,
My Billy had dear been to me.
In Grandeur and Wealth we find Woe,
In Love there is nothing but Charms;
On others your Treasures bestow,
Give Billy alone to these Arms.
In Title and Wealth what is lost,
In Tenderness oft’ is repaid;
Too much a great Fortune may cost;
Well purchas’d may be the poor Maid.
Let Gold’s empty Show cheat the Great,
We more real Pleasures will prove;
While they in their Palaces hate,
We in our poor Cottage will love.
SCENE III.
Don Quixote, Guzzle, Sancho.
Quix. Most illustrious and most mighty Lord, how shall I sufficiently pay you for those Sounds with which I have been ravish’d?
Guz. Sir, I desire no other Payment but of this small Bill; your Worship’s Cattle are saddled, and it is a charming Day for travelling.
Quix. Nothing, my Lord, shall ever tempt me to leave you, till what I have this Day seen within the Castle-Walls be utterly demolished.
Guz. So! he has seen the Sirloin of Beef at the Fire, I find. [Aside.] — But if your Worship intends to stay any longer, I hope you design to satisfy this small Matter here: I am in great Necessity, I assure you.
Quix. To what mean Actions does Necessity force Men! That ever a mighty Lord should be obliged to borrow Money!
Guz. I am asham’d to ask your Worship so often for this Trifle, but —
Quix. My Lord, I see you are; I see the generous Confusion which spreads your Face.
Guz. I am so poor, an’t please your Honour, that it will be quite Charity in you. It is the same as if you gave it me.
Quix. My Lord, I am more confus’d than you; but do not think it a Gift, since I see you so backward to receive it in that Light. And since, my Lord, every thing I have, saving to the charming Dulcinea del Toboso, her fixt and unalterable Right, be justly yours. Give me leave to call it a Debt, my Lord. Sancho, pay his Lordship a thousand English Guineas.
San. If your Worship will please to tell me where I shall get them; but there’s no paying with an empty Hand; where nothing is, nothing can come on’t. Twelve Lawyers make not one honest Man.
Quix. Cease thy Impertinence, and pay the Money immediately.
San. If I have seen the Colour of Gold this Fortnight, may I never see Teresa Pancha again.
Quix. I am confounded, my Lord, at the Extravagance of my Squire, who, out of the Spoils of so many Giants he hath plunder’d, should not have reserv’d enough to oblige your Lordship with such a Trifle; but, if you know any one who will disemburse that Sum, or any other, I will sell him the Reversion of the next Island I conquer.
Guz. Do you make a Jest of me, Sir?
Quix. Be not incens’d; I am sorry I am not able to give it you.
Guz. Sorry, forsooth! a pretty way of paying Debts, truly; I fansy if I was to tell the Exciseman, and my Brewer, I was sorry I could not pay ‘em, they would send me and my Sorrow to Goal together: In short, Sir, I must and I will have my Money.
San. You must get the Philosophers Stone, before you can make any Money of us.
Guz. You shall neither eat nor drink any more in my House, ‘till I am paid, that I’m resolv’d.
San. I wish your Worship would think of changing your Quarters; if it must be a Balnketing, why let it be a Blanketing. I have not eat any thing these twelve Hours; and I don’t find I am like to fare much better for the next twelve; and by that time I shall be so light, you may as well toss a Feather in a Blanket.
Quix. Sancho, come hither; I intend to make thee my Ambassador.
San. Why truly, Sir, that’s a Post I should like hugeously well; your Bassadours lead rare fat Lives, they say; and I should make a very good Bassadour, I can assure your Worship.
Quix. Thou shalt go my Ambassador to the Court of Dulcinea del Toboso.
San. I suppose it is equal to your Worship what Court you send me to; and, to say the Truth, I had rather go to some other; for tho’ my Lady Dulcinea be a very good Woman, yet she has got such a waundy Trick of being chanted, and I fansy your Bassadours fare but ill at your chanted Courts.
Quix. Reptile! reply not on thy Life, but go and prepare thy self for thy Journey; then come to me and receive farther Instructions, for thou shalt set out this very Evening. — But, Ha! the charming Voice begins again.
AIR III. Why will Florella, &c.
[Dorothea sings within.]
The Pain which tears my throbbing Breast,
What Language can deplore?
For how should Language have exprest
A Pain ne’er felt before?
In other Virgin wounded Hearts,
Love’s cruel Sport we see;
But the most cruel of his Darts,
He has reserv’d for me.
Quix. Unhappy Princess!
Dor.
Thy Curse, O Tantalus! I’d prize;
Thy Curse a Bliss would prove.
Ah! Heaven were kind, if with my Eyes
I could enjoy my Love.
Inchanted thus, Romances tell
Their Moans poor Virgins make;
But where is found the powerful Spell,
Can this Inchantment break?
Quix. In this Arm ‘tis found. Look forth, most adorable, tho’ most unhappy Princess; l
ook forth, and behold whom Fate hath sent to your Relief; the most renowned Knight of the woful Figure, the invincible Don Quixote de la Mancha, for whose victorious Arm alone this Adventure is reserv’d. — Oh cursed Inchanter, dost thou keep this charming Princess invisible to my Eyes? Open the Castle-Gates, open them this Instant, whoever is on the Guard, or you shall feel the Force of my Attack. You shall find, Caitifs, that one single Knight is too many for you all.
[He attacks the Walls, and breaks the Windows.
SCENE IV.
Don Quixote, Guzzle, and Mob.
Guz. Heyday! What, in the Devil’s Name, are you doing? What, do you intend to beat down my House?
Quix. Thou most uncourteous Lord, deliver the Princess whom thou so unjustly dost detain; or think not that all the Inchanters on Earth shall preserve thee from my Vengeance.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 313
