Delphi Complete Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Page 41
Sneer. A most happy thought, certainly I Dang. Egad it was — I told you so. But, pray now, I don’t understand how you have contrived to introduce any love into it.
Puff. Love! oh, nothing so easy! for it is a received point among poets, that where history gives you a good heroic outline for a play, you may fill up with a little love at your own discretion: in doing which, nine times out of ten, you only make up a deficiency in the private history of the times. Now, I rather think I have done this with some success.
Sneer. No scandal about Queen Elizabeth, I hope?
Puff. O Lud! no, no; — I only suppose the governor of
Tilbury Fort’s daughter to be in love with the son of the Spanish admiral.
Sneer. Oh, is that all!
Dang. Excellent, i’faith! I see at once. But won’t this appear rather improbable?
Puff. To be sure it will — but what the plague! a play is not to show occurrences that happen every day, but things just so strange, that though they never did, they might happen.
Sneer. Certainly nothing is unnatural, that is not physically impossible.
Puff. Very true — and for that matter Don Ferolo
Whiskerandos, for that’s the lover’s name, might have been over here in the train of the Spanish ambassador, or Tilburina, for that is the lady’s name, might have been in love with him, from having heard his character, or seen his picture; or from knowing that he was the last man in the world she ought to be in love with — or for any other good female reason. — However; sir, the fact is, that though she is but a knight’s daughter, egad! she is in love like any princess!
Dang. Poor young lady! I feel for her already! for I can conceive how great the conflict must be between her passion and her duty; her love for her country, and her love for Don Ferolo
Whiskerandos!
Puff. Oh, amazing! — her poor susceptible heart is swayed to and fro by contending passions like —
Enter UNDER PROMPTER.
Und. Promp. Sir, the scene is set, and everything is ready to begin, if you please.
Puff. Egad, then we’ll lose no time.
Und. Promp. Though, I believe, sir, you will find it very short, for all the performers have profited by the kind permission you granted them.
Puff. Hey! what?
Und. Promp. You know, sir, you gave them leave to cut out or omit whatever they found heavy or unnecessary to the plot, and I must own they have taken very liberal advantage of your indulgence.
Puff. Well, well. — They are in general very good judges, and I know I am luxuriant. — Now, Mr. Hopkins, as soon as you please.
Und. Promp. [To the Orchestra.] Gentlemen, will you play a few bars of something, just to —
Puff. Ay, that’s right; for as we have the scenes and dresses, egad, we’ll go to’t, as if it was the first night’s performance, — but you need not mind stopping between the acts —
[Exit UNDER PROMPTER. — Orchestra play — then the bell rings.] Soh! stand clear; gentlemen. Now you know there will be a cry of down! down! — Hats off! — Silence! — Then up curtain, and let us see what our painters have done for us. [Curtain rises.]
SCENE II.
Tilbury Fort.
“Two SENTINELS discovered asleep.”
Dang. Tilbury Fort! — very fine indeed!
Puff. Now, what do you think I open with?
Sneer. Faith, I can’t guess —
Puff. A clock. — Hark! — [Clock strikes.] I open with a clock striking, to beget an awful attention in the audience: it also marks the time, which is four o’clock in the morning, and saves a description of the rising sun, and a great deal about gilding the eastern hemisphere.
Pang. But pray, are the sentinels to be asleep?
Puff. Fast as watchmen.
Sneer. Isn’t that odd though at such an alarming crisis?
Puff. To be sure it is, — but smaller things must give way to a striking scene at the opening; that’s a rule. And the case is, that two great men are coming to this very spot to begin the piece; now it is not to be supposed they would open their lips, if these fellows were watching them; so, egad, I must either have sent them off their posts, or set them asleep.
Sneer. Oh, that accounts for it. But tell us, who are these coming?
Puff. These are they — Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sir
Christopher Hatton. You’ll know Sir Christopher by his turning out his toes — famous, you know, for his dancing. I like to preserve all the little traits of character. — Now attend.
Enter SIR WALTER RALEIGH and SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.
Sir Christ. True, gallant Raleigh!”
Dang. What, they had been talking before?
Puff. O yes; all the way as they came along. — [To the actors.] I beg pardon, gentlemen, but these are particular friends of mine, whose remarks may be of great service to us. —
[To SNEER and DANGLE.] Don’t mind interrupting them whenever anything strikes you.
“Sir Christ.
True, gallant Raleigh
But oh, thou champion of thy country’s fame,
There is a question which I yet must ask
A question which I never ask’d before —
What mean these mighty armaments?
This general muster? and this throng of chiefs?”
Sneer. Pray, Mr. Puff, how came Sir Christopher Hatton never to ask that question before?
Puff. What before the play began?-how the plague could he?
Dang. That’s true, i’faith!
Puff. But you will hear what he thinks of the matter.
Sir Christ.
“Alas I my noble friend, when I behold
Yon tented plains in martial symmetry
Array’d; when I count o’er yon glittering lines
Of crested warriors, where the proud steeds’ neigh,
And valour-breathing trumpet’s shrill appeal,
Responsive vibrate on my listening ear;
When virgin majesty herself I view,
Like her protecting Pallas, veil’d in steel,
With graceful confidence exhort to arms!
When, briefly, all I hear or see bears stamp
Of martial vigilance and stern defence,
I cannot but surmise — forgive, my friend,
If the conjecture’s rash — I cannot but
Surmise the state some danger apprehends!”
Sneer. A very cautious conjecture that.
Puff. Yes, that’s his character; not to give an opinion but on secure grounds. — Now then.
Sir Walt. “O most accomplish’d Christopher!” —
Puff. He calls him by his Christian name, to show that they are on the most familiar terms.
Sir Walt. O most accomplish’d Christopher! I find Thy staunch sagacity still tracks the future, In the fresh print of the o’ertaken past.”
Puff. Figurative!
Sir Walt. Thy fears are just.
Sir Christ. But where? whence? when? and what The danger is, — methinks I fain would learn.
Sir Walt. You know, my friend, scarce two revolving suns,
And three revolving moons, have closed their course Since haughty
Philip, in despite of peace, With hostile hand hath struck at
England’s trade.
Sir Christ. I know it well.
Sir Walt. Philip, you know, is proud Iberia’s king!
Sir Christ. He is.
Sir Walt. His subjects in base bigotry And Catholic oppression held;-while we, You know, the Protestant persuasion hold.
Sir Christ. We do.
Sir Walt. You know, beside, his boasted armament, The famed Armada, by the Pope baptized, With purpose to invade these realms —
Sir Christ. Is sailed, Our last advices so report.
Sir Walt. While the Iberian admiral’s chief hope, His darling son —
Sir Christ. Ferolo Whiskerandos hight —
Sir Walt. The same — by chance a prisoner hath been ta’en,
; And in this fort of Tilbury —
Sir Christ. Is now Confined— ’tis true, and oft from yon tall turret’s top I’ve mark’d the youthful Spaniard’s haughty mien Unconquer’d, though in chains.
Sir Walt. You also know —
Dang. Mr. Puff, as he knows all this, why does Sir Walter go on telling him?
Puff. But the audience are not supposed to know any-thing of the matter, are they?
Sneer. True; but I think you manage ill: for there certainly appears no reason why Sir Walter should be so communicative.
Puff. ‘Fore Gad, now, that is one of the most ungrateful observations I ever heard! — for the less inducement he has to tell all this, the more, I think, you ought to be obliged to him; for I am sure you’d know nothing of the matter without it.
Dang. That’s very true, upon my word.
Puff. But you will find he was not going on.
“Sir Christ. Enough, enough— ’tis plain — and I no more Am in amazement lost!” —
Puff. Here, now you see, Sir Christopher did not in fact ask any one question for his own information.
Sneer. No, indeed: his has been a most disinterested curiosity!
Dang. Really, I find that we are very much obliged to them both.
Puff. To be sure you are. Now then for the commander-in-chief, the Earl of Leicester, who, you know, was no favourite but of the queen’s. — We left off — in amazement lost!
“Sir Christ. Am in amazement lost. But, see where noble
Leicester comes supreme in honours and command.
Sir Walt. And yet, methinks, At such a time, so perilous, so fear’d, That staff might well become an abler grasp.
Sir Christ. And so, by Heaven! think I; but soft, he’s here!”
Puff. Ay, they envy him!
Sneer. But who are these with him?
Puff. Oh! very valiant knights: one is the governor of the fort, the other the master of the horse. And now, I think, you shall hear some better language: I was obliged to be plain and intelligible in the first scene, because there was so much matter of fact in it; but now, i’faith, you have trope, figure, and metaphor, as plenty as noun-substantives.
“Enter EARL OF LEICESTER, GOVERNOR, MASTER OF THE HORSE,
KNIGHTS, &c.
Leic.
How’s this, my friends! is’t thus your new-fledged zeal,
And plumed valour moulds in roosted sloth?
Why dimly glimmers that heroic flame,
Whose reddening blaze, by patriot spirit fed,
Should be the beacon of a kindling realm?
Can the quick current of a patriot heart
Thus stagnate in a cold and weedy converse,
Or freeze in tideless inactivity?
No! rather let the fountain of your valour
Spring through each stream of enterprise,
Each petty channel of conducive daring,
Till the full torrent of your foaming wrath
O’erwhelm the flats of sunk hostility!”
Puff. There it is — followed up!
Sir Walt. No more! — the freshening breath of thy rebuke
Hath fill’d the swelling canvas of our souls!
And thus, though fate should cut the cable of
[All take hands.]
Our topmost hopes, in friendship’s closing line
We’ll grapple with despair, and if we fall,
We’ll fall in glory’s wake!
Leic.
There spoke old England’s genius!
Then, are we all resolved?
All.
We are — all resolved.
Leic.
To conquer — or be free?
All.
To conquer, or be free.
Leic.
All?
All.
All.
Dang. Nem. con. egad!
Puff. O yes! — where they do agree on the stage, their unanimity is wonderful!
Leic. Then let’s embrace — and now — [Kneels.”
Sneer. What the plague, is he going to pray?
Puff. Yes; hush! — in great emergencies, there Is nothing like a prayer.
Leic. O mighty Mars!
Dang. But why should he pray to Mars?
Puff. Hush!
Leic.
If in thy homage bred,
Each point of discipline I’ve still observed;
Nor but by due promotion, and the right
Of service, to the rank of major-general
Have risen; assist thy votary now!
Gov.
Yet do not rise — hear me! [Kneels.]
Mast.
And me! [Kneels.]
Knight.
And me! [Kneels.]
Sir Walt.
And me! [Kneels.]
Sir Christ.
And me! [Kneels.]”
Puff. Now pray altogether.
“All.
Behold thy votaries submissive beg,
That thou wilt deign to grant them all they ask;
Assist them to accomplish all their ends,
And sanctify whatever means they use
To gain them!”
Sneer. A very orthodox quintetto!
Puff. Vastly well, gentlemen! — Is that well managed or not? Have you such a prayer as that on the stage?
Sneer. Not exactly.
Leic. [To PUFF.] But, sir, you haven’t settled how we are to get off here.
Puff. You could not go off kneeling, could you?
Sir Walt. [To PUFF.] O no, sir; impossible!
Puff. It would have a good effect i’faith, if you could exeunt praying! — Yes, and would vary the established mode of springing off with a glance at the pit.
Sneer. Oh, never mind, so as you get them off! — I’ll answer for it, the audience won’t care how.
Puff. Well, then, repeat the last line standing, and go off the old way.
“All. And sanctify whatever means we use To gain them.
[Exeunt.]”
Dang. Bravo! a fine exit.
Sneer. Well, really, Mr. Puff —
Puff. Stay a moment!
“The SENTINELS get up.
1 Sent. All this shall to Lord Burleigh’s ear.
2 Sent. ’Tis meet it should. [Exeunt.]”
Dang. Hey! — why, I thought those fellows had been asleep?
Puff. Only a pretence; there’s the art of it: they were spies of Lord Burleigh’s.
Sneer. But isn’t it odd they never were taken notice of, not even by the commander-in-chief?
Puff. O Lud, sir! if people who want to listen, or overhear, were not always connived at in a tragedy, there would be no carrying on any plot in the world.
Dang. That’s certain.
Puff. But take care, my dear Dangle! the morning gun is going to fire. [Cannon fires.]
Dang. Well, that will have a fine effect!
Puff. I think so, and helps to realize the scene. —
[Cannon twice.] What the plague! three morning guns! there never is but one! — Ay, this is always the way at the theatre: give these fellows a good thing, and they never know when to have done with it. — You have no more cannon to fire?
Und. Promp. [Within.] No, sir.
Puff. Now, then, for soft music.
Sneer. Pray, what’s that for?
Puff. It shows that Tilburina is coming! — nothing introduces you a heroine like soft music. Here she comes!
Dang. And her confidant, I suppose?
Puff. To be sure! Here they are — inconsolable to the minuet in Ariadne! [Soft music.]
“Enter TILNURINA and CONFIDANT.
Tilb.
Now has the whispering breath of gentle morn
Bid Nature’s voice and Nature’s beauty rise;
While orient Phoebus, with unborrow’d hues,
Clothes the waked loveliness which all night slept
In heavenly drapery I Darkness is fled.
Now flowers unfold their beauties to the sun,
The striped carnation, and the guarded rose,
The vulgar wallflower, and smart gillyflower,
The polyanthus mean — the dapper daisy,
Sweet-William, and sweet marjoram — and all
The tribe of single and of double pinks!
Now, too, the feather’d warblers tune their notes
Around, and charm the listening grove. The lark!
The linnet! chaffinch! bullfinch! goldfinch! greenfinch!
But O, to me no joy can they afford!
Nor rose, nor wallflower, nor smart gillyflower,
Nor polyanthus mean, nor dapper daisy,
Nor William sweet, nor marjoram — nor lark,
Linnet nor all the finches of the grove!”
Puff. Your white handkerchief, madam! —
Tilb. I thought, sir, I wasn’t to use that till heart-rending woe.
Puff. O yes, madam, at the finches of the grove, if you please.
“Tilb.
Nor lark,
Linnet, nor all the finches of the grove! [Weeps.]
Puff. Vastly well, madam! Dang. Vastly well, indeed!
“Tilb.
For, O, too sure, heart-rending woe is now
The lot of wretched Tilburina!”
Dang. Oh! — it’s too much.
Sneer. Oh! — it is indeed.
“Con.
Be comforted, sweet lady; for who knows,
But Heaven has yet some milk-white day in store?
Tilb. Alas! my gentle Nora, Thy tender youth as yet hath never mourn’d Love’s fatal dart. Else wouldst thou know, that when The soul is sunk in comfortless despair, It cannot taste of merriment.”
Dang. That’s certain.
“Con. But see where your stern father comes It is not meet that he should find you thus.”
Puff. Hey, what the plague! — what a cut is here! Why, what is become of the description of her first meeting with Don
Whiskerandos — his gallant behaviour in the sea-fight — and the simile of the canary-bird?
Tilb. Indeed, sir, you’ll find they will not be missed.
Puff. Very well, very well!