No More Learning

_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,
And, blushing, kiss the beam he sends to wake them--
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!
_Tilb_. [_To_ CONFIDANT. ] The cue, ma'am, if you
please.
"_Con_. It is not meet that he should find you thus.
_Tilb_. Thou counsel'st right; but 'tis no easy task For
barefaced grief to wear a mask of joy.
_Enter_. GOVERNOR. .
_Gov_. How's this! --in tears? --O Tilburina, shame! Is this a
time for maudling tenderness, And Cupid's baby woes? --Hast thou
not heard That haughty Spain's pope-consecrated fleet Advances to
our shores, while England's fate, Like a clipp'd guinea, trembles
in the scale?
_Tilb_. Then is the crisis of my fate at hand! I see the
fleets approach--I see--"
_Puff_. Now, pray, gentlemen, mind. This is one of the most
useful figures we tragedy writers have, by which a hero or
heroine, in consideration of their being often obliged to
overlook things that are on the stage, is allowed to hear and see
a number of things that are not.
_Sneer_. Yes; a kind of poetical second-sight!
_Puff_. Yes. --Now then, madam.
"_Tilb_. I see their decks Are clear'd! --I see the signal
made! The line is form'd! --a cable's length asunder! I see the
frigates station'd in the rear; And now, I hear the thunder of
the guns! I hear the victor's shouts--I also hear The vanquish'd
groan! --and now 'tis smoke-and now I see the loose sails shiver in
the wind! I see--I see--what soon you'll see--
_Gov_. Hold, daughter! peace! this love hath turn'd thy
brain The Spanish fleet thou canst not see--because--It is not
yet in sight! "
_Dang_. Egad, though, the governor seems to make no
allowance for this poetical figure you talk of.
_Puff_. No, a plain matter-of-fact man;--that's his
character.
"_Tilb_. But will you then refuse his offer?
_Gov_. I must--I will--I can--I ought--I do.
_Tilb_. Think what a noble price.
_Gov_. No more--you urge in vain.
_Tilb_. His liberty is all he asks. "
_Sneer_. All who asks, Mr. Puff? Who is--
_Puff_. Egad, sir, I can't tell! Here has been such cutting
and slashing, I don't know where they have got to myself.
_Tilb_. Indeed, sir, you will find it will connect very
well. "--And your reward secure. "
_Puff_. Oh, if they hadn't been so devilish free with their
cutting here, you would have found that Don Whiskerandos has been
tampering for his liberty, and has persuaded Tilburina to make
this proposal to her father. And now, pray observe the
conciseness with which the argument is conducted. Egad, the
_pro_ and _con_ goes as smart as hits in a fencing
match. It is indeed a sort of small-sword-logic, which we have
borrowed from the French.
"_Tilb_. A retreat in Spain!
_Gov_. Outlawry here!
_Tilb_. Your daughter's prayer!
_Gov_. Your father's oath!
_Tilb_. My lover!
_Gov_. My country!
_Tilb_. Tilburina!
_Gov_. England!
_Tilb_. A title!
_Gov_. Honour!
_Tilb_. A pension!
_Gov_. Conscience!
_Tilb_. A thousand pounds!
_Gov_. Ha! thou hast touch'd me nearly! "
_Puff_. There you see-she threw in _Tilburina_. Quick,
parry Carte with _England_! Ha! thrust in tierce _a
title_! --parried by _honour_. Ha! _a pension_ over
the arm! --put by by _conscience_. Then flankonade with _a
thousand pounds_--and a palpable hit, egad!
"_Tilb_. Canst thou--Reject the suppliant, and the daughter
too?
_Gov_. No more; I would not hear thee plead in vain: The
father softens--but the governor Is fix'd! [_Exit_. ]"
_Dang_. Ay, that antithesis of persons is a most established
figure.
"_Tilb_. 'Tis well,--hence then, fond hopes,--fond passion
hence; Duty, behold I am all over thine--
_Whisk_. [_Without_. ] Where is my love--my--
_Tilb_. Ha!
_Enter_ DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.
_Whisk_. My beauteous enemy! --"
_Puff_. O dear, ma'am, you must start a great deal more than
that! Consider, you had just determined in favour of duty--when,
in a moment, the sound of his voice revives your passion--
overthrows your resolution--destroys your obedience. If you don't
express all that in your start, you do nothing at all.
_Tilb_. Well, we'll try again.
_Dang_. Speaking from within has always a fine effect.
_Sneer_. Very.
"_Whisk_. My conquering Tilburina! How! is't thus We meet?
why are thy looks averse? what means That falling tear--that
frown of boding woe? Ha! now indeed I am a prisoner! Yes, now I
feel the galling weight of these Disgraceful chains--which, cruel
Tilburina! Thy doting captive gloried in before. --But thou art
false, and Whiskerandos is undone!
_Tilb_. O no! how little dost thou know thy Tilburina!
_Whisk_. Art thou then true? --Begone cares, doubts, and
fears, I make you all a present to the winds; And if the winds
reject you--try the waves. "
_Puff_. The wind, you know, is the established receiver of
all stolen sighs, and cast-off griefs and apprehensions.
"_Tilb_. Yet must we part! --stern duty seals our doom Though
here I call yon conscious clouds to witness, Could I pursue the
bias of my soul, All friends, all right of parents, I'd disclaim,
And thou, my Whiskerandos, shouldst be father And mother,
brother, cousin, uncle, aunt, And friend to me!
_Whisk_.