Ghost. From the dark regions of the realms below
The ghost of Tragedy has ridden post;
To tell thee, Common Sense, a thousand things,
Which do import thee nearly to attend: [Cock crows.
But, ha! the cursed cock has warn’d me hence;
I did set out too late, and therefore must
Leave all my business to some other time.
[Ghost descends.
Sneer. I presume this is a character necessary to divert; for I can see no great business he has fulfilled.
Fust. Where’s the second ghost?
Sneer. I thought the cock had crowed.
Fust. Yes, but the second ghost need not be supposed to have heard it. Pray, Mr Prompter, observe, the moment the first ghost descends the second is to rise: they are like the twin stars in that.
[2 Ghost rises.
2 Ghost. Awake, great Common Sense, and sleep no more.
Look to thyself; for then, when I was slain,
Thyself was struck at; think not to survive
My murder long; for while thou art on earth,
The convocation will not meet again.
The lawyers cannot rob men of their rights;
Physicians cannot dose away their souls;
A courtier’s promise will not be believed;
Nor broken citizens again be trusted.
A thousand newspapers cannot subsist
In which there is not any news at all.
Playhouses cannot flourish, while they dare
To nonsense give an entertainment’s name.
Shakspeare, and Jonson, Dryden, Lee, and Rowe,
Thou wilt not bear to yield to Sadler’s Wells;
Thou wilt not suffer men of wit to starve,
And fools, for only being fools, to thrive.
Thou wilt not suffer eunuchs to be hired
At a vast price, to be impertinent.
[3 Ghost rises.
3 Ghost. Dear ghost, the cock has crow’d; you cannot get Under the ground a mile before ‘tis day.
2 Ghost. Your humble servant then, I cannot stay.
[Ghost descends.
Fust. Thunder and lightning! thunder and lightning! Pray don’t forget this when it is acted.
Sneer. Pray, Mr Fustian, why must a ghost always rise in a storm of thunder and lightning? for I have read much of that doctrine and don’t find any mention of such ornaments.
Fust. That may be, but they are very necessary: they are indeed properly the paraphernalia of a ghost.
Sneer. But, pray, whose ghost was that?
Fust. Whose should it be but Comedy’s? I thought, when you had been told the other was Tragedy, you would have wanted no intimation who this was. Come, Common Sense, you are to awake and rub your eyes.
Q. C. S. [Waking.] Who’s there? —
Enter Maid of Honour.
Did you not hear or see some wond’rous thing?
Maid. No, may it please your majesty, I did not.
Q. C. S. I was a-dream’d I overheard a ghost.
Maid. In the next room I closely did attend, And had a ghost been here I must have heard him.
Enter FIREBRAND.
Q. C. S. Priest of the Sun, you come most opportune,
For here has been a dreadful apparition:
As I lay sleeping on my couch, methought
I saw a ghost.
Sneer. Then I suppose she sleeps with her eyes open.
Fust. Why, you would not have Common Sense see a ghost, unless in her sleep, I hope.
Fireb. And if such toleration
Be suffer’d as at present you maintain,
Shortly your court will be a court of ghosts.
Make a huge fire and burn all unbelievers:
Ghosts will be hang’d ere venture near a fire.
Q. C. S. Men cannot force belief upon themselves, And shall I then by torture force it on them?
Fireb. The Sun will have it so.
Q. C. S. How do I know that?
Fireb. Why I, his priest infallible, have told you.
Q. C. S. How do I know you are infallible?
Fireb. Ha! do you doubt it! nay, if you doubt that,
I will prove nothing. But my zeal inspires me,
And I will tell you, madam, you yourself
Are a most deadly enemy to the Sun;
And all his priests have greatest cause to wish
You had been never born.
Q. C. S. Ha! sayest thou, priest?
Then know, I honour and adore the Sun:
And when I see his light, and feel his warmth,
I glow with flaming gratitude towards him;
But know, I never will adore a priest,
Who wears pride’s face beneath religion’s mask,
And makes a pick-lock of his piety
To steal away the liberty of mankind:
But while I live, I’ll never give thee power.
Fireb. Madam, our power is not derived from you,
Nor any one: ‘twas sent us in a box
From the great Sun himself, and carriage paid:
Phaeton brought it when he overturn’d
The chariot of the Sun into the sea.
Q. C. S. Shew me the instrument and let me read it.
Fireb. Madam, you cannot read it, for, being thrown Into the sea, the water has so damaged it That none but priests could ever read it since.
Q. C. S. And do you think I can believe this tale?
Fireb. I order you to believe it, and you must.
Q. C. S. Proud and imperious man, I can’t believe it.
Religion, law, and physick, were design’d
By heaven the greatest blessings on mankind;
But priests, and lawyers, and physicians, made
These general goods to each a private trade;
With each they rob, with each they fill their purses,
And turn our benefits into our curses. [Exit.
Fust. Law and Physick. Where’s Law?
Enter PHYSIC.
Phys. Sir, Law, going without the playhouse passage, was taken up by a lord chief-justice’s warrant.
Fireb. Then we must go on without him.
Fust. No, no, stay a moment; I must get somebody else to rehearse the part. Pox take all warrants for me! if I had known this before I would have satirized the law ten times more than I have.
ACT V.
SCENE I. — Enter FUSTIAN, SNEERWELL, Prompter, FIREBRAND, LAW, PHYSICK.
Fust. I am glad you have made your escape; but I hope you will make the matter up before the day of action: come, Mr Firebrand, now if you please go on; the moment Common Sense goes off the stage Law and Physick enter.
Fireb. Oh! my good lords of Physick and of Law,
Had you been sooner here you would have heard
The haughty queen of Common Sense throw out
Abuses on us all.
Law. I am not now
To learn the hatred which she bears to me.
No more of that — for now the warlike queen
Of Ignorance, attended with a train
Of foreigners, all foes to Common Sense,
Arrives at Covent-garden; and we ought
To join her instantly with all our force.
At Temple-bar some regiments parade;
The colonels, Clifford, Thavies, and Furnival,
Through Holborn lead their powers to Drury-lane,
Attorneys all compleatly armed in brass:
These, bailiffs and their followers will join,
With justices, and constables, and watchmen.
Phys. In Warwick-lane my powers expect me now:
A hundred chariots with a chief in each,
Well-famed for slaughter, in his hand he bears
A feather’d dart that seldom errs in flight.
Next march a band of choice apothecaries,
Each arm’d with deadly pill; a regiment
Of surgeons terrible maintain the rear.
All rea
dy first to kill, and then dissect.
Fireb. My lords, you merit greatly of the queen,
And Ignorance shall well repay your deeds;
For I foretel that by her influence
Men shall be brought (what scarce can be believed)
To bribe you with large fees to their undoing.
Success attend your glorious enterprize;
I’ll go and beg it earnest of the Sun:
I, by my office, am from fight debarr’d,
But I’ll be with you ere the booty’s shared.
[Exeunt FIREBRAND, LAW, and PHYSICK
Fust. Now, Mr Sneerwell, we shall begin my third and last act; and I believe I may defy all the poets who have ever writ, or ever will write, to produce its equal: it is, sir, so crammed with drums and trumpets, thunder and lightning, battles and ghosts, that I believe the audience will want no entertainment after it: it is as full of shew as Merlin’s cave itself; and for wit — no rope-dancing or tumbling can come near it. Come, begin.
[A ridiculous march is played.
Enter Queen IGNORANCE, attended with Singers, Fidlers, Rope-dancers, Tumblers, &c.
Q. Ign. Here fix our standard; what is this place called?
1Att. Great madam, Covent-garden is its name.
Q. Ign. Ha! then methinks we have ventured too far,
Too near those theatres where Common Sense
Maintains her garrisons of mighty force;
Who, should they sally on us ere we’re joined
By Law and Physick, may offend us much.
[Drum beats within.
But ha! what means this drum?
1Att. It beats a parley, not a point of war
Enter HARLEQUIN.
Harl. To you, great queen of Ignorance, I come
Embassador from the two theatres;
Who both congratulate you on your arrival;
And to convince you with what hearty meaning
They sue for your alliance, they have sent
Their choicest treasure here as hostages,
To be detain’d till you are well convinced
They’re not less foes to Common Sense than you.
Q. Ign. Where are the hostages?
Harl. Madam, I have brought
A catalogue, and all therein shall be
Deliver’d to your order; but consider,
Oh mighty queen! they offer you their all;
And gladly for the least of these would give
Their poets and their actors in exchange.
Q. Ign. Read the catalogue.
Harl. [Reads.] “A tall man, and a tall woman, hired at a vast price. A strong man exceeding dear. Two dogs that walk on their hind legs only, and personate human creatures so well, they might be mistaken for them. A human creature that personates a dog so well that he might almost be taken for one. Two human cats. A most curious set of puppies. A pair of pigeons. A set of rope-dancers and tumblers from Sadler’s-wells.”
Q. Ign. Enough, enough; and is it possible
That they can hold alliance with my friends
Of Sadler’s-wells? then are they foes indeed
To Common Sense, and I’m indebted to ‘em.
Take back their hostages, for they may need ‘em;
And take this play, and bid ‘em forthwith act it;
There is not in it either head or tail.
Harl. Madam, they will most gratefully receive it. The character you give would recommend it, Though it had come from a less powerful hand.
Q. Ign. The Modish Couple is its name; myself Stood gossip to it, and I will support This play against the town.
I Att. Madam, the queen Of Common Sense advances with her powers.
Q. Ign. Draw up my men, I’ll meet her as I ought; This day shall end the long dispute between us.
Enter Queen COMMON SENSE with a Drummer.
Fust. Hey-day! where’s Common Sense’s army?
Promp. Sir, I have sent all over the town, and could not get one soldier for her, except that poor drummer, who was lately turned out of an Irish regiment.
Drum. Upon my shoul but I have been a drummer these twenty years, master, and have seen no wars yet; and I was willing to learn a little of my trade before I died.
Fust. Hush, sirrah! don’t you be witty; that is not in your part.
Drum. I don’t know what is in my part, sir; but T desire to have something in it; for I have been tired of doing nothing a great while.
Fust. Silence!
Q. C. S. What is the reason, madam, that you bring These hostile arms into my peaceful realm?
Q. Ign. To ease your subjects from that dire oppression They groan beneath, which longer to support Unable, they invited my redress.
Q. C. S. And can my subjects then complain of wrong? Base and ungrateful! what is their complaint?
Q. Ign. They say you do impose a tax of thought Upon their minds, which they’re too weak to bear.
Q. C. S. Wouldst thou from thinking then absolve mankind?
Q. Ign. I would, for thinking only makes men wretched;
And happiness is still the lot of fools.
Why should a wise man wish to think, when thought
Still hurts his pride; in spite of all his art,
Malicious fortune, by a lucky train
Of accidents, shall still defeat his schemes,
And set the greatest blunderer above him.
Q. C. S. Urgest thou that against me, which thyself
Has been the wicked cause of? Which thy power,
Thy artifice, thy favourites have done?
Could Common Sense bear universal sway,
No fool could ever possibly be great.
Q. Ign. What is this folly, which you try to paint
In colours so detestable and black?
Is’t not the general gift of fate to men?
And though some few may boast superior sense,
Are they not call’d odd fellows by the rest?
In any science, if this sense peep forth,
Shew men the truth, and strive to turn their steps
From ways wherein their gross forefathers err’d,
Is not the general cry against them straight?
Sneer. This Ignorance, Mr Fustian, seems to know a great deal.
Fust. Yes, sir, she knows what she has seen so often; but you find she mistakes the cause, and Common Sense can never beat it into her.
Q. Ign. Sense is the parent still of fear; the fox,
Wise beast, who knows the treachery of men,
Flies their society, and skulks in woods,
While the poor goose, in happiness and ease,
Fearless grows fat within its narrow coop,
And thinks the hand that feeds it is its friend;
Then yield thee, Common Sense, nor rashly dare
Try a vain combat with superior force.
Q. C. S. Know, queen, I never will give up the cause
Of all these followers: when at the head
Of all these heroes I resign my right,
May my curst name be blotted from the earth!
Sneer. Methinks, Common Sense, though, ought to give it up, when she has no more to defend it.
Fust. It does indeed look a little odd at present; but I’ll get her an army strong enough against its acted. Come, go on.
Q. Ign. Then thus I hurl defiance at thy head. Draw all your swords.
Q. C. S. And, gentlemen, draw yours.
Q. Ign. Fall on; have at thy heart.
[A fight
Q. C. S. And have at thine.
Fust. Oh, fie upon’t, fie upon’t! I never saw a worse battle in all my life upon any stage. Pray, gentlemen, come some of you over to the other side.
Sneer. These are Swiss soldiers, I perceive, Mr Fustian; they care not which side they fight of.
Fust. Now, begin again, if you please, and fight away; pray fight as if you were in earnest, gentlemen. [They fight.] Oons, Mr Prompter! I fancy you hired these soldiers out of the trained band
s — they are afraid to fight even in jest. [They fight again.] There, there — pretty well. I think, Mr Sneerwell, we have made a shift to make out a good sort of a battle at last.
Sneer. Indeed I cannot say I ever saw a better.
Fust. You don’t seem, Mr Sneerwell, to relish this battle greatly.
Sneer. I cannot profess myself the greatest admirer of this part of tragedy; and I own my imagination can better conceive the idea of a battle from a skilful relation of it than from such a representation; for my mind is not able to enlarge the stage into a vast plain, nor multiply half a score into several thousands.
Fust. Oh; your humble servant! but if we write to please you and half a dozen others, who will pay the charges of the house? Sir, if the audience will be contented with a battle or two, instead of all the raree-fine shows exhibited to them in what they call entertainments ——
Sneer. Pray, Mr Fustian, how came they to give the name of entertainments to their pantomimical farces?
Fust. Faith, sir, out of their peculiar modesty; intimating that after the audience had been tired with the dull works of Shakspeare, Jonson, Vanbrugh, and others, they are to be entertained with one of these pantomimes, of which the master of the playhouse, two or three painters, and half a score dancing-masters are the compilers. What these entertainments are, I need not inform you, who have seen ‘em; but I have often wondered how it was possible for any creature of human understanding, after having been diverted for three hours with the production of a great genius, to sit for three more and see a set of people running about the stage after one another, without speaking one syllable, and playing several juggling tricks, which are done at Fawks’s after a much better manner; and for this, sir, the town does not only pay additional prices, but loses several fine parts of its best authors, which are cut out to make room for the said farces.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 335
