ACT II.—Scene I.
Bayes, Johnson, and Smith.
Bayes. Now, sir, because I'll do nothing here that ever was done before, instead of beginning with a scene that discovers something of the plot, I begin this play with a whisper.[11]
Smith. Umph! very new indeed.
Bayes. Come, take your seats. Begin, sirs.
Enter Gentleman-Usher and Physician.
Phys. Sir, by your habit, I should guess you to be the Gentleman-usher of this sumptuous place.
Ush. And by your gait and fashion, I should almost suspect you rule the healths of both our noble kings, under the notion of Physician.
Phys. You hit my function right.
Ush. And you mine.
Phys. Then let's embrace.
Ush. Come.
Phys. Come.
Johns. Pray, sir, who are those so very civil persons?
Bayes. Why, sir, the gentleman-usher and physician of the two kings of Brentford.
Johns. But, pray then, how comes it to pass, that they know one another no better?
Bayes. Phoo! that's for the better carrying on of the plot.
Johns. Very well.
Phys. Sir, to conclude.
Smith. What, before he begins?
Bayes. No, sir, you must know they had been talking of this a pretty while without.
Smith. Where? in the tyring-room?
Bayes. Why, ay, sir. He's so dull! come, speak again.
Phys. Sir, to conclude, the place you fill has more than amply exacted the talents of a wary pilot; and all these threat'ning storms, which, like impregnate clouds, hover o'er our heads, will (when they once are grasped but by the eye of reason) melt into fruitful showers of blessings on the people.
Bayes. Pray mark that allegory. Is not that good?
Johns. Yes, that grasping of a storm with the eye is admirable.
Phys. But yet some rumours great are stirring; and if Lorenzo should prove false (which none but the great gods can tell), you then perhaps would find that——
[Whispers.
Bayes. Now he whispers.
Ush. Alone do you say?
Phys. No, attended with the noble—— [Whispers.
Bayes. Again.
Ush. Who, he in grey?
Phys. Yes, and at the head of—— [Whispers.
Bayes. Pray mark.
Ush. Then, sir, most certain 'twill in time appear,
These are the reasons that have mov'd him to't;
First, he—— [Whispers.
Bayes. Now the other whispers.
Ush. Secondly, they—— [Whispers.
Bayes. At it still.
Ush. Thirdly, and lastly, both he and they—— [Whispers.
Bayes. Now they both whisper. [Exeunt whispering.
Now, gentlemen, pray tell me true, and without flattery, is not this a very odd beginning of a play?
Johns. In troth, I think it is, sir. But why two kings of the same place?
Bayes. Why, because it's new, and that's it I aim at. I despise your Jonson and Beaumont, that borrowed all they writ from nature: I am for fetching it purely out of my own fancy, I.
Smith. But what think you of Sir John Suckling?
Bayes. By gad, I am a better poet than he.
Smith. Well, sir, but pray why all this whispering?
Bayes. Why, sir (besides that it is new, as I told you before), because they are supposed to be politicians, and matters of state ought not to be divulg'd.
Smith. But then, sir, why——
Bayes. Sir, if you'll but respite your curiosity till the end of the fifth act, you'll find it a piece of patience not ill recompensed. [Goes to the door.
Johns. How dost thou like this, Frank? Is it not just as I told thee?
Smith. Why, I never did before this see anything in nature, and all that (as Mr. Bayes says) so foolish, but I could give some guess at what moved the fop to do it; but this, I confess, does go beyond my reach.
Johns. It is all alike; Mr. Wintershull[12] has informed me of this play already. And I'll tell thee, Frank, thou shalt not see one scene here worth one farthing, or like anything thou canst imagine has ever been the practice of the world. And then, when he comes to what he calls good language, it is, as I told thee, very fantastical, most abominably dull, and not one word to the purpose.
Smith. It does surprise me, I'm sure, very much.
Johns. Ay, but it won't do so long: by that time thou hast seen a play or two, that I'll show thee, thou wilt be pretty well acquainted with this new kind of foppery.
Smith. Plague on't, but there's no pleasure in him: he's too gross a fool to be laugh'd at.
Enter Bayes.
Johns. I'll swear, Mr. Bayes, you have done this scene most admirably; tho' I must tell you, sir, it is a very difficult matter to pen a whisper well.
Bayes. Ay, gentlemen, when you come to write yourselves, on my word, you'll find it so.
Johns. Have a care of what you say, Mr. Bayes; for Mr. Smith there, I assure you, has written a great many fine things already.
Bayes. Has he, i'fackins? why then pray, sir, how do you do when you write?
Smith. Faith, sir, for the most part, I am in pretty good health.
Bayes. Ay, but I mean, what do you do when you write?
Smith. I take pen, ink, and paper, and sit down.
Bayes. Now I write standing; that's one thing; and then another thing is, with what do you prepare yourself?
Smith. Prepare myself! what the devil does the fool mean?
Bayes. Why, I'll tell you, now, what I do. If I am to write familiar things, as sonnets to Armida, and the like, I make use of stew'd prunes only: but, when I have a grand design in hand, I ever take physic, and let blood; for, when you would have pure swiftness of thought, and fiery flights of fancy, you must have a care of the pensive part. In fine, you must purge the stomach.
Smith. By my troth, sir, this is a most admirable receipt for writing.
Bayes. Ay, 'tis my secret; and, in good earnest, I think one of the best I have.
Smith. In good faith, sir, and that may very well be.
Bayes. May be, sir? Egad, I'm sure on't: Experto crede Roberto. But I must give you this caution by the way, be sure you never take snuff,[13] when you write.
Smith. Why so, sir?
Bayes. Why, it spoil'd me once, egad, one of the sparkishest plays in all England. But a friend of mine, at Gresham College, has promised to help me to some spirit of brains, and, egad, that shall do my business.
Scene II.
Enter the two Kings, hand in hand.
Bayes. Oh, these are now the two kings of Brentford; take notice of their style, 'twas never yet upon the stage: but if you like it, I could make a shift perhaps to show you a whole play, writ all just so.
1st King. Did you observe their whispers, brother king?
2nd King. I did, and heard, besides, a grave bird sing,
That they intend, sweetheart, to play us pranks.
Bayes. This is now familiar, because they are both persons of the same quality.
Smith. S'death, this would make a man sick.
1st King. If that design appears,
I'll lug them by the ears,
Until I make 'em crack.
2nd King. And so will I, i'fack.
1st King. You must begin, Ma foy.
2nd King. Sweet sir, Pardonnez moy.
Bayes. Mark that; I make 'em both speak French, to show their breeding.
Johns. Oh, 'tis extraordinary fine!
2nd King. Then spite of fate, we'll thus combined stand,
And, like two brothers, walk still hand in hand. [Exeunt Reges.
Johns. This is a majestic scene indeed.
Bayes. Ay, 'tis a crust, a lasting crust for your rogue-critics, egad: I would fain see the proudest of 'em all but dare to nibble at this; egad, if they do, this shall rub their gums for 'em, I promise you. It was I, you must know, that have written a whole play just in this very same style; it was never acted yet.
Johns. How so?
Bayes. Egad, I can hardly tell you for laughing: ha, ha, ha! it is so pleasant a story: ha, ha, ha!
Smith. What is't?
Bayes. Egad, the players refuse to act it. Ha, ha, ha!
Smith. That's impossible!
Bayes. Egad, they did it, sir; point-blank refus'd it, egad, ha, ha, ha!
Johns. Fie, that was rude.
Bayes. Rude! ay, egad, they are the rudest, uncivillest persons, and all that, in the whole world, egad. Egad, there's no living with 'em. I have written, Mr. Johnson, I do verily believe, a whole cartload of things, every whit as good as this; and yet, I vow to gad, these insolent rascals have turn'd 'em all back upon my hands again.
Johns. Strange fellows indeed!
Smith. But pray, Mr. Bayes, how came these two kings to know of this whisper? for, as I remember, they were not present at it.
Bayes. No, but that's the actors' fault, and not mine; for the two kings should (a plague take 'em) have popp'd both their heads in at the door, just as the other went off.
Smith. That indeed would have done it.
Bayes. Done it! ay, egad, these fellows are able to spoil the best things in Christendom. I'll tell you, Mr. Johnson, I vow to gad, I have been so highly disoblig'd by the peremptoriness of these fellows, that I'm resolved hereafter to bend my thoughts wholly for the service of the nursery, and mump your proud players, egad. So, now Prince Prettyman comes in, and falls asleep, making love to his mistress; which you know was a grand intrigue in a late play, written by a very honest gentleman, a knight.[14]
Scene III.
Enter Prince Prettyman.
Pret. How strange a captive am I grown of late!
Shall I accuse my love, or blame my fate!
My love, I cannot; that is too divine:
And against fate what mortal dares repine?[15]
Enter Chloris.
But here she comes.
Sure 'tis some blazing comet! is it not! [Lies down.
Bayes. Blazing comet! mark that, egad, very fine!
Pret. But I am so surpris'd with sleep, I cannot speak the rest. [Sleeps.
Bayes. Does not that, now, surprise you, to fall asleep in the nick? his spirits exhale with the heat of his passion, and all that, and swop he falls asleep, as you see. Now here she must make a simile.
Smith. Where's the necessity of that, Mr. Bayes?
Bayes. Because she's surpris'd. That's a general rule; you must ever make a simile when you are surpris'd; 'tis the new way of writing.
Cloris.[16] As some tall pine, which we on Ætna find
T' have stood the rage of many a boist'rous wind,
Feeling without that flames within do play,
Which would consume his root and sap away;
He spreads his worsted arms unto the skies,
Silently grieves, all pale, repines and dies:
So shrouded up, your bright eye disappears.
Break forth, bright scorching sun, and dry my tears. [Exit.
Johns. Mr. Bayes, methinks this simile wants a little application too.
Bayes. No, faith; for it alludes to passion, to consuming, to dying, and all that; which, you know, are the natural effects of an amour. But I'm afraid this scene has made you sad; for, I must confess, when I writ it, I wept myself.
Smith. No truly, sir, my spirits are almost exhal'd too, and I am likelier to fall asleep.
Prince Prettyman starts up, and says—
Pret. It is resolved! [Exit.
Bayes. That's all.
Smith. Mr. Bayes, may one be so bold as to ask you one question, now, and you not be angry?
Bayes. O Lord, sir, you may ask me anything; what you please; I vow to gad, you do me a great deal of honour: you do not know me, if you say that, sir.
Smith. Then pray, sir, what is it that this prince here has resolved in his sleep?
Bayes. Why, I must confess, that question is well enough asked, for one that is not acquainted with this new way of writing. But you must know, sir, that to outdo all my fellow-writers, whereas they keep their intrigo secret, till the very last scene before the dance; I now, sir (do you mark me?)—a—
Smith. Begin the play, and end it, without ever opening the plot at all?
Bayes. I do so, that's the very plain truth on't: ha, ha, ha! I do, egad. If they cannot find it out themselves, e'en let 'em alone for Bayes, I warrant you. But here, now, is a scene of business: pray observe it; for I dare say you'll think it no unwise discourse this, nor ill argued. To tell you true, 'tis a discourse I overheard once betwixt two grand, sober, governing persons.
Scene IV.
Enter Gentleman-Usher and Physician.
Ush. Come, sir; let's state the matter of fact, and lay our heads together.
Phys. Right; lay our heads together. I love to be merry sometimes; but when a knotty point comes, I lay my head close to it, with a snuff-box in my hand; and then I fegue it away, i'faith.
Bayes. I do just so, egad, always.
Ush. The grand question is, whether they heard us whisper? which I divide thus.
Phys. Yes, it must be divided so indeed.
Smith. That's very complaisant, I swear, Mr. Bayes, to be of another man's opinion, before he knows what it is.
Bayes. Nay, I bring in none here but well-bred persons, I assure you.
Ush. I divide the question into when they heard, what they heard, and whether they heard or no.
Johns. Most admirably divided, I swear!
Ush. As to the when; you say, just now: so that is answer'd. Then, as for what; why, that answers itself; for what could they hear, but what we talk'd of? so that, naturally, and of necessity, we come to the last question, videlicet, whether they heard or no.
Smith. This is a very wise scene, Mr. Bayes.
Bayes. Ay, you have it right; they are both politicians.
Ush. Pray, then, to proceed in method, let me ask you that question.
Phys. No, you'll answer better; pray let me ask it you.
Ush. Your will must be a law.
Phys. Come, then, what is't I must ask?
Smith. This politician, I perceive, Mr. Bayes, has somewhat a short memory.
Bayes. Why, sir, you must know, that t'other is the main politician, and this is but his pupil.
Ush. You must ask me whether they heard us whisper.
Phys. Well, I do so.
Ush. Say it then.
Smith. Heyday! here's the bravest work that ever I saw.
Johns. This is mighty methodical.
Bayes. Ay, sir; that's the way; 'tis the way of art; there is no other way, egad, in business.
Phys. Did they hear us whisper?
Ush. Why, truly, I can't tell; there's much to be said upon the word whisper: to whisper in Latin is susurrare, which is as much as to say, to speak softly; now, if they heard us speak softly, they heard us whisper; but then comes in the quomodo, the how; how did they hear us whisper? why as to that, there are two ways: the one, by chance or accident; the other, on purpose; that is, with design to hear us whisper.
Phys. Nay, if they heard us that way, I'll never give them physic more.
Ush. Nor I e'er more will walk abroad before 'em.
Bayes. Pray mark this, for a great deal depends upon it, towards the latter end of the play.
Smith. I suppose that's the reason why you brought in this scene, Mr. Bayes.
Bayes. Partly, it was, sir; but I confess I was not unwilling, besides, to show the world a pattern, here, how men should talk of business.
Johns. You have done it exceeding well indeed.
Bayes. Yes, I think this will do.
Phys. Well, if they heard us whisper, they will turn us out, and nobody else will take us.
Smith. Not for politicians, I dare answer for it.
Phys. Let's then no more ourselves in vain bemoan:
We are not safe until we them unthrone.
Ush. 'Tis right:
And, since occasion now seems debonair,
I'll seize on this, and you shall take that chair.
[They draw their swords, and sit in the two great chairs upon the stage.
Bayes. There's now an odd surprise; the whole state's turned quite topsy-turvy, without any pother or stir in the whole world, egad.[17]
Johns. A very silent change of government, truly, as ever I heard of.
Bayes. It is so. And yet you shall see me bring 'em in again, by-and-by, in as odd a way every jot.
[The Usurpers march out, flourishing their swords.
Enter Shirly.
Shir. Heyho! heyho! what a change is here! heyday, heyday!
I know not what to do, nor what to say.[18] [Exit.
Johns. Mr. Bayes, in my opinion, now, that gentleman might have said a little more upon this occasion.
Bayes. No, sir, not at all; for I underwrit his part on purpose to set off the rest.
Johns. Cry you mercy, sir.
Smith. But pray, sir, how came they to depose the kings so easily?
Bayes. Why, sir, you must know, they long had a design to do it before; but never could put it in practice till now: and to tell you true, that's one reason why I made 'em whisper so at first.
Smith. Oh, very well; now I'm fully satisfied.
Bayes. And then to show you, sir, it was not done so very easily neither, in the next scene you shall see some fighting.
Smith. Oh, oh; so then you make the struggle to be after the business is done?
Bayes. Ay.
Smith. Oh, I conceive you: that, I swear, is very natural.
Scene V.
Enter four Men at one door, and four at another, with their swords drawn.
1st Sold. Stand. Who goes there?
2nd Sold. A friend.
1st Sold. What friend?
2nd Sold. A friend to the house.
1st Sold. Fall on! [They all kill one another.
[Music strikes.
Bayes. Hold, hold. [To the music. It ceases.
Now, here's an odd surprise: all these dead men you shall see
rise up presently, at a certain note that I have, in effaut flat,
and fall a-dancing. Do you hear, dead men? remember your
note in effaut flat.
Play on. [To the music.
Now, now, now! [The music plays his note, and the dead men
rise; but cannot get in order.
O Lord! O Lord! Out, out, out! did ever men spoil a good
thing so! no figure, no ear, no time, nothing. Udzookers, you
dance worse than the angels in "Harry the Eighth," or the fat
spirits in the "Tempest," egad.
1st Sold. Why, sir, 'tis impossible to do anything in time, to this tune.
Bayes. O Lord, O Lord! impossible! Why, gentlemen, if there be any faith in a person that's a Christian, I sat up two whole nights in composing this air, and apting it for the business; for, if you observe, there are two several designs in this tune: it begins swift, and ends slow. You talk of time, and time; you shall see me do it. Look you, now: here I am dead.
[Lies down flat upon his face.
Now mark my note effaut flat. Strike up, music.
Now. [As he rises up hastily, he falls down again.
Ah, gadzookers! I have broke my nose.
Johns. By my troth, Mr. Bayes, this is a very unfortunate note of yours, in effaut.
Bayes. A plague on this old stage, with your nails, and your tenter-hooks, that a gentleman can't come to teach you to act, but he must break his nose, and his face, and the devil and all. Pray, sir, can you help me to a wet piece of brown paper?
Smith. No, indeed, sir, I don't usually carry any about me.
2nd Sold. Sir, I'll go get you some within presently.
Bayes. Go, go, then; I follow you. Pray dance out the dance, and I'll be with you in a moment. Remember you dance like horse-men. [Exit Bayes.
Smith. Like horse-men! what a plague can that be?
They dance the dance, but can make nothing of it.
1st Sold. A devil! let's try this no longer. Play my dance
that Mr. Bayes found fault with so. [Dance, and Exeunt.
Smith. What can this fool be doing all this while about his
nose?
Johns. Prithee let's go see. [Exeunt.