Scene draws, and discovers APOLLO in a great chair, surrounded by Attendants.
Come, bring him forward, that the audience may see and hear him: you must know, sir, this is a bastard of Apollo, begotten on that beautiful nymph Moria, who sold oranges to Thespis’s company, or rather cartload, of comedians: and, being a great favourite of his father’s, the old gentleman settled upon him the entire direction of all our play-houses and poetical performances whatever.
APOLLO. Prompter.
PROMPTER. Sir.
APOLLO. Is there any thing to be done?
PROMPTER. Yes, sir, this play to be cast.
APOLLO. Give it me. The life and death of King John, written by Shakespeare: who can act the king?
PROMPTER. Pistol, sir, he loves to act it behind the scenes.
APOLLO. Here are a parcel of English lords.
PROMPTER. Their parts are but of little consequence; I will take care to cast them.
APOLLO. Do; but be sure you give them to actors who will mind their cues — Faulconbridge — What sort of a character is he?
PROMPTER. Sir, he is a warrior, my cousin here will do him very well.
1 PLAYER. I do a warrior! I never learnt to fence.
APOLLO. No matter, you will have no occasion to fight; can you look fierce, and speak well?
1 PLAYER. Boh!
APOLLO. I would not desire a better warrior in the house than yourself. Robert Faulconbridge — What is this Robert?
PROMPTER. Really, sir, I don’t well know what he is, his chief desire seems to be for land, I think; he is no very considerable character, anybody may do him well enough; or if you leave him quite out, the play will be little the worse for it.
APOLLO. Well, I’ll leave it to you — Peter of Pomfret, a prophet — have you anybody that looks like a prophet?
PROMPTER. I have one that looks like a fool.
APOLLO. He’ll do — Philip of France?
PROMPTER. I have cast all the French parts except the ambassador.
APOLLO. Who shall do it? His part is but short; have you never a good genteel figure, and one that can dance? For, as the English are the politest people in Europe, it will be mighty proper that the ambassador should be able at his arrival to entertain them with a jig or two.
PROMPTER. Truly, sir, here are abundance of dancing masters in the house, who do little or nothing for their money.
APOLLO. Give it to one of them: see that he has a little drollery though in him; for Shakespeare seems to have intended him as a ridiculous character, and only to make the audience laugh.
SOURWIT . What’s that, sir? Do you affirm that Shakespeare intended the ambassador Chatilion a ridiculous character?
MEDLEY. No, sir, I don’t.
SOURWIT . Oh, sir, your humble servant, then I misunderstood you; I thought I had heard him say so.
MEDLEY. Yes, sir, but I shall not stand to all he says.
SOURWIT . But, sir, you should not put a wrong sentiment into the mouth of the god of wit.
MEDLEY. I tell you he is the god only of modem wit. and he has a very just right to be god of most of the modem wits that I know; of some who are liked for their wit; of some who are preferred for their wit; of some who live by their wit; of those ingenious gentlemen who damn plays, and those who write them too, perhaps. Here comes one of his votaries; come, enter, enter — Enter Mr. Ground-Ivy.
Enter GROUND-IVY.
GROUND-IVY. What are you doing here?
APOLLO. I am casting the parts in the tragedy of King John.
GROUND-IVY. Then you are casting the parts in a tragedy that won’t do.
APOLLO. How, sir? Was it not written by Shakespeare, and was not Shakespeare one of the greatest geniuses that ever lived?
GROUND-IVY. No, sir. Shakespeare was a pretty fellow, and said some things which only want a little of my licking to do well enough; King John, as now writ, will not do — But a word in your ear, I will make him do.
APOLLO. How?
GROUND-IVY. By alteration, sir: it was a maxim of mine, when I was at the head of theatrical affairs, that no play, though ever so good, would do without alteration — For instance, in the play before us, the bastard Faulconbridge is a most effeminate character, for which reason I would cut him out, and put all his sentiments in the mouth of Constance, who is so much properer to speak to them — Let me tell you, Mr. Apollo, propriety of character, dignity of diction, and emphasis of sentiment, are the things I chiefly consider on these occasions.
PROMPTER. I am only afraid as Shakespeare is so popular an author, and you, asking your pardon, so unpopular —
GROUND-IVY. Damn me, I’ll write to the town and desire them to be civil, and that in so modest a manner that an army of Cossacks shall be melted: I’ll tell them that no actors are equal to me, and no authors ever were superior: and how do you think I can insinuate that in a modest manner?
PROMPTER. Nay, faith, I can’t tell.
GROUND-IVY. Why, I’ll tell them that the former only tread on my heels, and that the greatest among the latter have been damned as well as myself; and after that, what do you think of your popularity? I can tell you, Mr. Prompter, I have seen things carried in the house against the voice of the people before to-day.
APOLLO. Let them hiss, let them hiss, and grumble as much as they please, as long as we get their money.
MEDLEY. There, sir, is the sentiment of a great man, and worthy to come from the great Apollo himself.
SOURWIT . He’s worthy his sire, indeed, to think of this gentleman for altering Shakespeare.
MEDLEY. Sir, I will maintain this gentleman as proper as any man in the kingdom for the business.
SOURWIT . Indeed!
MEDLEY. Ay, sir, for as Shakespeare is already good enough for people of taste, he must be altered to the palates of those who have none; and if you will grant that, who can be properer to alter him for the worse? But if you are so zealous in old Shakespeare’s cause, perhaps you may find by and by all this come to nothing — Now for Pistol.
PISTOL enters, and overturns his Father.
GROUND-IVY. Pox on’t, the boy treads close on my heels in a literal sense.
PISTOL. Your pardon, sir, why will you not obey
Your son’s advice and give him still his way?
For you, and all who will oppose his force,
Must be o’erthrown in this triumphant course.
SOURWIT . I hope, sir, your Pistol is not intended to burlesque Shakespeare.
MEDLEY. No, sir, I have too great an honour for Shakespeare to think of burlesquing him, and to be sure of not burlesquing him, I will never attempt to alter him for fear of burlesquing him by accident, as perhaps some others have done.
LORD DAPPER. Pistol is the young captain.
MEDLEY. My lord, Pistol is every insignificant fellow in town, who fancies himself of great consequence, and is of none; he is my Lord Pistol, Captain Pistol, Counsellor Pistol, Alderman Pistol, Beau Pistol, and — and — Odso! what was I going to say? Come, go on.
APOLLO. Prompter, take care that all things well go on. We will retire, my friend, and read King John. [Exeunt.
SOURWIT. To what purpose, sir, was Mr. Pistol introduced?
MEDLEY. To no purpose at all, sir; it’s all in character, sir, and plainly shows of what mighty consequence he is — And there ends my article from the theatre.
SOURWIT . Heyday! What’s become of your two Pollys?
MEDLEY. Damned, sir, damned; they were damned at my first rehearsal, for which reason I have cut them out; and to tell you the truth, I think the town has honoured ‘em enough with talking of ‘em for a whole month; though, faith, I believe it was owing to their having nothing else to talk of. Well, now for my patriots — You will observe, Mr. Sourwit, that I place my politicians and my patriots at opposite ends of my piece, which I do, sir, to show the wide difference between them; I begin with my politicians, to signify that they will always have the preference in the world of patriots, and I end with patriots
to leave a good relish in the mouths of my audience.
SOURWIT . Ay; by your dance of patriots, one would think you intend to turn patriotism into a jest.
MEDLEY. So I do — But don’t you observe I conclude the whole with a dance of patriots? which plainly intimates, that when patriotism is turned into a jest, there is an end of the whole play: come, enter four patriots — You observe I have not so many patriots as politicians; you will collect from thence that they are not so plenty.
SOURWIT . Where does the scene lie now, sir?
MEDLEY. In Corsica, sir, all in Corsica.
Enter four PATRIOTS from different doors, who meet in the centre and shake hands.
SOURWIT . These patriots seem to equal your greatest politicians in their silence.
MEDLEY. Sir, what they think now cannot well be spoke, but you may conjecture a great deal from their shaking their heads; they will speak by and by — as soon as they are a little heated with wine: you cannot, however, expect any great speaking in this scene, for though I do not make my patriots politicians, I don’t make them fools.
SOURWIT . But, methinks, your patriots are a set of shabby fellows.
MEDLEY. They are the cheaper dressed; besides, no man can be too low for a patriot, though perhaps it is possible he may be too high.
1 PATRIOT. Prosperity to Corsica.
2 PATRIOT. Liberty and property.
3 PATRIOT. Success to trade.
4 PATRIOT. Ay, to trade — to trade — particularly to my shop.
SOURWIT . Why do you suffer that actor to stand laughing behind the scenes, and interrupt your rehearsal?
MEDLEY. O, sir, he ought to be there, he’s a laughing in his sleeve at the patriots; he’s a very considerable character — and has much to do by and by.
SOURWIT . Methinks the audience should know that, or perhaps they may mistake him as I did, and hiss him.
MEDLEY. If they should, he is a pure impudent fellow, and can stand the hisses of them all; I chose him particularly for the part — Go on, Patriots.
1 PATRIOT. Gentlemen, I think this our island of Corsica is in an ill state: I do not say we are actually in war, for that we are not; but however we are threatened with it daily, and why may not the apprehension of a war, like other evils, be worse than, the evil itself? for my part, this I will say, this I will venture to say, that let what will happen I will drink a health to peace.
MEDLEY. This gentleman is the noisy patriot, who drinks and roars for his country, and never does either good or harm in it — The next is the cautious patriot.
2 PATRIOT. Sir, give me your hand; there’s truth in what you say, and I will pledge you with all my soul, but remember, it is all under the rose.
3 PATRIOT. Lookye, gentlemen, my shop is my country. I always measure the prosperity of the latter by that of the former. My country is either richer or poorer, in my opinion, as my trade rises or falls; therefore, sir, I cannot agree with you that a war would be disserviceable: on the contrary, I think it the only way to make my country flourish; for as I am a sword-cutler, it would make my shop flourish, so here’s to war.
MEDLEY. This is the self-interested patriot; and now you shall hear the fourth and last kind, which Is the indolent patriot, one who acts as I have seen a prudent man m company fall asleep at the beginning of a fray, and never wake till the end on’t.
4 PATRIOT. [Waking.] Here’s to peace or war, I do not care which.
SOURWIT . So this gentleman being neutral, peace has it two to one.
MEDLEY. Perhaps neither shall have it, perhaps I have found a way to reconcile both parties: but go on.
1 PATRIOT. Can any one, who is a friend to Corsica, wish for war in our present circumstances? — I desire to ask you all one question, are we not a set of miserable poor dogs?
OMNES. Ay, ay.
3 PATRIOT. That we are sure enough, that nobody will deny.
Enter QUIDAM.
QUIDAM. Yes, sir, I deny it. [All start.] Nay, gentlemen, let me not disturb you, I beg you will all sit down. I am come to drink a glass with you — Can Corsica be poor while there is this in it? [Lays a purse on the table.] Nay, be not afraid of it, gentlemen, it is honest gold I assure you; you are a set of poor dogs, you agree; I say you are not, for this is all yours, there [Pours it on the table], take it among you.
1 PATRIOT. And what are we to do for it?
QUIDAM. Only say you are rich, that’s all.
OMNES. Oh, if that be all!
[They snatch up the money.
QUIDAM. Well, sir, what is your opinion now? tell me freely.
1 PATRIOT. I will; a man may be in the wrong through ignorance, but he’s a rascal who speaks with open eyes against his conscience — I own I thought we were poor, but, sir, you have convinced me that we are rich.
OMNES. We are all convinced.
QUIDAM. Then you are all honest fellows, and here is to your healths; and, since the bottle is out, hang sorrow, cast away care, e’en take a dance, and I will play you a tune on the fiddle.
OMNES. Agreed.
1 PATRIOT. Strike up when you will, we are ready to attend your motions. [Dance here; Quidam dances out, and they all dance after him.
MEDLEY. Perhaps there may be something intended by this dance which you don’t take.
SOURWIT . Ay, what, pr’ythee?
MEDLEY. Sir, every one of these patriots have a hole in their pockets, as Mr. Quidam the fiddler there knows; so that he intends to make them dance till all the money is fallen through, which he will pick up again, and so not lose one halfpenny by his generosity; so far from it, that he will get his wine for nothing, and the poor people, alas! out of their own pockets, pay the whole reckoning. This, sir, I think is a very pretty Pantomime trick, and an ingenious burlesque on all the fourberies which the great Lun has exhibited in all his entertainments: And so ends my play, my farce, or what you please to call it. May I hope it has your lordship’s approbation?
LORD DAPPER. Very pretty, indeed; indeed ‘Tis very pretty.
MEDLEY. Then, my lord, I hope I shall have your encouragement; for things in this town do not always succeed according to their merit; there is a vogue, my lord, which if you will bring me into, you will lay a lasting obligation on me: and you, Mr. Sourwit, I hope, will serve me among the critics, that I may have no elaborate treatise writ to prove that a farce of three acts is not a regular play of five. Lastly, to you, Gentlemen, whom I have not the honour to know, who have pleased to grace my rehearsal; and you, Ladies, whether you be Shakespeare’s ladies, or Beaumont and Fletcher’s ladies, I hope you will make allowances for a rehearsal,
And kindly all report us to the town;
No borrowed nor stolen goods we’ve shown.
If witty, or if dull, our play’s our own.
EURYDICE HISS’ D
OR, A WORD TO THE WISE
CONTENTS
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
EURYDICE HISSED, OR, A WORD TO THE WISE
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
SOURWIT
SPATTER
LORD DAPPER
PILLAGE
HONESTUS
MUSE
ACTORS
GENTLEMEN
EURYDICE HISSED, OR, A WORD TO THE WISE
Enter Spatter, Sourwit, and Lord Dapper.
SPATTER. My lord, I am extremely obliged to you for the honour you show me in staying to the rehearsal of my tragedy: I hope it will please your lordship, as well as Mr. Medley’s comedy has, for I assure you it is ten times as ridiculous.
SOURWIT . Is it the merit of a tragedy, Mr. Spatter, to be ridiculous?
SPATTER. Yes, sir, of such tragedies as mine; and I think you, Mr. Sourwit, will grant me this, that a tragedy had better be ridiculous than dull; and that there is more merit in making the audience laugh, than in setting them asleep.
LORD DAPPER. I beg, sir, you would begin, or I sh’a’nt get my hair powdered before dinner; for I am always four hours about it.
SOURWIT . Why, pr’ythee, what is
this tragedy of thine?
SPATTER. Sir, it is the damnation of Eurydice. I fancy,
MR. Sourwit, you will allow I have chose this subject very cunningly; for as the town have damned my play, for their own sakes they will not damn the damnation of it.
SOURWIT . Faith, I must confess, there is something of singular modesty in the instance.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 344
