Play. Sir, I’ll do it to the best of my power.
Fust. This prologue was writ by a friend.
PROLOGUE.
When Death’s sharp scythe has mowed the hero down,
The muse again awakes him to renown;
She tells proud Fate that all her darts are vain,
And bids the hero live and strut about again:
Nor is she only able to restore,
But she can make what ne’er was made before;
Can search the realms of Fancy, and create
What never came into the brain of Fate.
Forth from these realms, to entertain to-night,
She brings imaginary kings and queens to light,
Bids Common Sense in person mount the stage,
And Harlequin to storm in tragick rage.
Britons, attend; and decent reverence shew
To her, who made th’ Athenian bosoms glow;
Whom the undaunted Romans could revere,
And who in Shakespeare’s time was worshipp’d here:
If none of these can her success presage,
Your hearts at least a wonder may engage:
Oh I love her like her sister monsters of the age.
Sneer. Faith, sir, your friend has writ a very fine prologue.
Fust. Do you think so? Why then, sir, I must assure you, that friend is no other than myself. But come, now for the tragedy. Gentlemen, I must desire you all to clear the stage, for I have several scenes which I could wish it was as big again for.
2d Player enters and whispers TRAPWIT.
2 Play. Sir, a gentlewoman desires to speak to you.
Trap. Is she in a chair?
2 Play. No, sir, she is in a riding-hood, and says she has brought you a clean shirt. [Exit.
Trap. I’ll come to her. — Mr Fustian, you must excuse me a moment; a lady of quality hath sent to take some boxes. [Exit.
Promp. Common Sense, sir, desires to speak with you in the green-room.
Fust. I’ll wait upon her.
Sneer. You ought, for it is the first message, I believe, you ever received from her. [Aside. [Exeunt Fus. and SNEER.
Enter a Dancer.
Dane. Look’e, Mr Prompter, I expect to dance first goddess; I will not dance under Miss Minuet; I am sure I shew more to the audience than any lady upon the stage.
Promp. Madam, it is not my business.
Dane. I don’t know whose business it is; but I think the town ought to be the judges of a dancer’s merit; I am sure they are on my side; and if I am not used better, I’ll go to France; for now we have got all their dancers away, perhaps they may be glad of some of ours.
Promp. Heyday! what’s the matter? [A noise within.
Enter Player.
Play. The author and Common Sense are quarrelling in the green-room.
Promp. Nay, then, that’s better worth seeing than anything in the play. [Exit Promp.
Danc. Hang this play, and all plays; the dancers are the only people that support the house; if it were not for us they might act their Shakspeare to empty benches.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — Enter FUSTIAN and SNEERWELL.
Fust. These little things, Mr Sneerwell, will sometimes happen. Indeed a poet undergoes a great deal before he comes to his third night; first with the muses, who are humorous ladies, and must be attended; for if they take it into their head at any time to go abroad and leave you, you will pump your brain in vain: then, sir, with the master of a playhouse to get it acted, whom you generally follow a quarter of a year before you know whether he will receive it or no; and then, perhaps, he tells you it won’t do, and returns it to you again, reserving the subject, and perhaps the name, which he brings out in his next pantomime; but if he should receive the play, then you must attend again to get it writ out into parts and rehearsed. Well, sir, at last, the rehearsals begin; then, sir, begins another scene of trouble with the actors, some of whom don’t like their parts, and all are continually plaguing you with alterations: at length, after having waded through all these difficulties, his play appears on the stage, where one man hisses out of resentment to the author, a second out of dislike to the house, a third out of dislike to the actor, a fourth out of dislike to the play, a fifth for the joke sake, a sixth to keep all the rest in company. Enemies abuse him, friends give him up, the play is damned, and the author goes to the devil: so ends the farce.
Sneer. The tragedy, rather, I think, Mr Fustian. But what’s become of Trapwit?
Fust. Gone off, I suppose; I knew he would not stay; he is so taken up with his own performances, that he has no time to attend any others. But come, Prompter, will the tragedy never begin?
Enter Prompter.
Promp. Yes, sir, they are all ready; come, draw up the curtain.
[FIREBRAND, LAW, and PHYSICK discovered.
Sneer. Pray, Mr Fustian, who are these personages?
Fust. That in the middle, sir, is Firebrand, priest of the Sun; he on the right represents Law, and he on the left Physick.
Fireb. Avert these omens, ye auspicious stars!
Fust. What omens? where the devil is the thunder and lightning!
Promp. Why don’t you let go the thunder there, and flash your rosin? [Thunder and lightning.
Fust. Now, sir, begin if you please. I desire, sir, you will get a larger thunderbowl and two pennyworth more of lightning against the representation. Now, sir, if you please.
Fireb. Avert these omens, ye auspicious stars!
O Law! O Physick! As last, even late,
I offer’d sacred incense in the temple,
The temple shook — strange prodigies appeared;
A cat in boots did dance a rigadoon,
While a huge dog play’d on the violin;
And whilst I trembling at the altar stood,
Voices were heard i’ th’ air, and seem’d to say,
“Awake, my drowsy sons, and sleep no more.”
They must mean something! —
Law. Certainly they must.
We have our omens too! The other day
A mighty deluge swam into our hall,
As if it meant to wash away the law:
Lawyers were forced to ride on porters’ shoulders:
One, O prodigious omen! tumbled down,
And he and all his briefs were sous’d together.
Now, if I durst my sentiments declare,
I think it is not hard to guess the meaning.
Fireb. Speak boldly; by the powers I serve, I swear
You speak in safety, even though you speak
Against the gods, provided that you speak
Not against priests.
Law. What then can the powers
Mean by these omens, but to rouse us up
From the lethargick sway of Common Sense?
And well they urge, for while that drowsy queen
Maintains her empire, what becomes of us?
Phys. My lord of Law, you speak my sentiments;
For though I wear the mask of loyalty,
And outward shew a reverence to the queen,
Yet in my heart I hate her: yes, by heaven,
She stops my proud ambition! keeps me down
When I would soar upon an eagle’s wing,
And thence look down, and dose the world below.
Law. Thou know’st, my lord of Physick, I had long
Been privileged by custom immemorial,
In tongues unknown, or rather none at all,
My edicts to deliver through the land;
When this proud queen, this Common Sense abridged
My power, and made me understood by all.
Phys. My lord, there goes a rumour through the court
That you descended from a family
Related to the queen; Reason is said
T’ have been the mighty founder of your house.
Law. Perhaps so; but we have raised ourselves so high, And shook this founder from us off so far, We hardly deign to
own from whence we came.
Fireb. My lords of Law and Physick, I have heard
With perfect approbation all you’ve said:
And since I know you men of noble spirit,
And fit to undertake a glorious cause,
I will divulge myself: know, through this mask,
Which to impose on vulgar minds I wear,
I am an enemy to Common Sense;
But this not for Ambition’s earthly cause,
But to enlarge the worship of the Sun;
To give his priests a just degree of power,
And more than half the profits of the land.
Oh! my good lord of Law, would’st thou assist,
In spite of Common Sense it may be done.
Law. Propose the method.
Fireb. Here, survey this list.
In it you’ll find a certain set of names,
Whom well I know sure friends to Common Sense;
These it must be our care to represent
The greatest enemies to the gods and her.
But hush! the queen approaches.
Enter Queen COMMON SENSE, attended by two Maids of Honour.
Fust. What! but two maids of honour?
Promp. Sir, a Jew carried off the other, but I shall be able to pick up some more against the play is acted.
Q. C. S. My lord of Law, I sent for you this morning;
I have a strange petition given to me.
Two men, it seems, have lately been at law
For an estate, which both of them have lost,
And their attorneys now divide between them.
Law. Madam, these things will happen in the law.
Q. C. S. Will they, my lord? then better we had none:
But I have also heard a sweet bird sing,
That men unable to discharge their debts
At a short warning, being sued for them,
Have, with both power and will their debts to pay,
Lain all their lives in prison for their costs.
Law. That may, perhaps, be some poor person’s case, Too mean to entertain your royal ear.
Q. C. S. My lord, while I am queen I shall not think
One man too mean or poor to be redress’d.
Moreover, lord, I am informed your laws
Are grown so large, and daily yet increase,
That the great age of old Methusalem
Would scarce suffice to read your statutes out.
Fireb. Madam, a more important cause demands
Your royal care; strange omens have appear’d;
Sights have been seen, and voices have been heard,
The gods are angry, and must be appeas’d;
Nor do I know to that a readier way
Than by beginning to appease their priests,
Who groan for power, and cry out after honour.
Q. C. S. The gods, indeed, have reason for their anger,
And sacrifices shall be offer’d to them;
But would you make ‘em welcome, priest, be meek,
Be charitable, kind, nor dare affront
The Sun you worship, while yourselves prevent
That happiness to men you ask of him.
Enter an Officer.
Q. C. S. What means this hasty message in your looks?
Offic. Forgive me, madam, if my tongue declares
News for your sake, which most my heart abhors;
Queen Ignorance is landed in your realm,
With a vast power from Italy and France
Of singers, fidlers, tumblers, and rope-dancers.
Q. C. S. Order our army instantly to get
Themselves in readiness; our self will head ‘em.
My lords, you are concerned as well as we
T’oppose this foreign force, and we expect
You join us with your utmost levies straight.
Go, priest, and drive all frightful omens hence;
To fright the vulgar they are your pretence,
But sure the gods will side with Common Sense.
[Exit cum suis.
Fireb. They know their interest better; or at least
Their priests do for ‘em, and themselves. Oh! lords,
This queen of Ignorance, whom you have heard
Just now described in such a horrid form,
Is the most gentle and most pious queen;
So fearful of the gods, that she believes
Whate’er their priests affirm. And by the Sun,
Faith is no faith if it falls short of that.
I’d be infallible; and that, I know,
Will ne’er be granted me by Common Sense:
Wherefore I do disclaim her, and will join
The cause of Ignorance. And now, my lords,
Each to his post. The rostrum I ascend;
My lord of Law, you to your courts repair;
And you, my good lord Physick, to the queen;
Handle her pulse, potion and pill her well.
Phys. Oh! my good lord, had I her royal ear,
Would she but take the counsel I would give,
You’d need no foreign power to overthrow her:
Yes, by the gods! I would with one small pill
Unhinge her soul, and tear it from her body;
But to my art and me a deadly foe,
She has averr’d, ay, in the publick court,
That Water Gruel is the best physician;
For which, when she’s forgiven by the college,
Or when we own the sway of Common Sense,
May we be forced to take our own prescriptions!
Fireb. My lord of Physick, I applaud thy spirit.
Yes, by the Sun, my heart laughs loud within me,
To see how easily the world’s deceived;
To see this Common Sense thus tumbled down
By men whom all the cheated nations own
To be the strongest pillars of her throne.
[Exeunt FIREB., LAW, and PHYS.
Fust. Thus ends the first act, sir.
Sneer. This tragedy of yours, Mr Fustian, I observe to be emblematical; do you think it will be understood by the audience?
Fust. Sir, I cannot answer for the audience; though I think the panegyrick intended by it is very plain and very seasonable.
Sneer. What panegyrick?
Fust. On our clergy, sir, at least the best of them, to shew the difference between a heathen and a Christian priest. And, as I have touched only on generals, I hope I shall not be thought to bring anything improper on the stage, which I would carefully avoid.
Sneer. But is not your satire on law and physick somewhat too general?
Fust. What is said here cannot hurt either an honest lawyer or a good physician; and such may be, nay, I know such are: if the opposites to these are the most general I cannot help that; as for the professors themselves, I have no great reason to be their friend, for they once joined in a particular conspiracy against me.
Sneer. Ah, how so?
Fust. Why, an apothecary brought me in a long bill, and a lawyer made me pay it.
Sneer. Ha, ha, ha! a conspiracy, indeed!
Fust. Now, sir, for my second act; my tragedy consists but of three.
Sneer. I thought that had been immethodical in tragedy.
Fust. That may be; but I spun it out as long as I could keep Common Sense alive; ay, or even her ghost. Come, begin the second act.
The scene draws and discovers QUEEN COMMON SENSE asleep.
Sneer. Pray, sir, who’s that upon the couch there?
Fust. I thought you had known her better, sir: that’s Common Sense asleep.
Sneer. I should rather have expected her at the head of her army.
Fust. Very likely, but you do not understand the practical rules of writing as well as I do; the first and greatest of which is protraction, or the art of spinning, without which the matter of a play would lose the chief property of all other matter, namely, extension; and no play, sir, could possibly last longer than half an h
our. I perceive, Mr Sneerwell, you are one of those who would have no character brought on but what is necessary to the business of the play. — Nor I neither — But the business of the play, as I take it, is to divert, and therefore every character that diverts is necessary to the business of the play.
Sneer. But how will the audience be brought to conceive any probable reason for this sleep?
Fust. Why, sir, she has been meditating on the present general peace of Europe, till by too intense an application, being not able thoroughly to comprehend it, she was overpowered and fell fast asleep. Come, ring up the first ghost. [Ghost arises.] You know that ghost?
Sneer. Upon my word, sir, I can’t recollect any acquaintance with him.
Fust. I am surprized at that, for you must have seen him often: that’s the ghost of Tragedy, sir; he has walked all the stages of London several years; but why are not you floured? — What the devil is become of the barber?
Ghost. Sir, he’s gone to Drury-lane playhouse to shave the Sultan in the new entertainment.
Fust. Come, Mr Ghost, pray begin.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 334
