No More Learning

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,
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_.