ACT IV.—Scene I.
Bayes, and the two Gentlemen.
Bayes. Gentlemen, because I would not have any two things alike in this play, the last act beginning with a witty scene of mirth, I make this to begin with a funeral.
Smith. And is that all your reason for it, Mr. Bayes?
Bayes. No, sir, I have a precedent for it besides. A person of honour, and a scholar, brought in his funeral just so;[35] and he was one, let me tell you, that knew as well what belong'd to a funeral as any man in England, egad.
Johns. Nay, if that be so, you are safe.
Bayes. Egad, but I have another device, a frolic, which I think yet better than all this; not for the plot or characters (for, in my heroic plays, I make no difference as to those matters), but for another contrivance.
Smith. What is that, I pray?
Bayes. Why, I have design'd a conquest that cannot possibly, egad, be acted in less than a whole week; and I'll speak a bold word, it shall drum, trumpet, shout, and battle, egad, with any the most warlike tragedy we have, either ancient or modern.[36]
Johns. Ay, marry, sir, there you say something.
Smith. And pray, sir, how have you order'd this same frolic of yours?
Bayes. Faith, sir, by the rule of romance; for example, they divide their things into three, four, five, six, seven, eight, or as many tomes as they please. Now I would very fain know what should hinder me from doing the same with my things, if I please?
Johns. Nay, if you should not be master of your own works, 'tis very hard.
Bayes. That is my sense. And then, sir, this contrivance of mine has something of the reason of a play in it too; for as every one makes you five acts to one play, what do I, but make five plays to one plot: by which means the auditors have every day a new thing.
Johns. Most admirably good, i'faith! and must certainly take, because it is not tedious.
Bayes. Ay, sir, I know that; there's the main point. And then upon Saturday to make a close of all (for I ever begin upon a Monday), I make you, sir, a sixth play that sums up the whole matter to 'em, and all that, for fear they should have forgot it.
Johns. That consideration, Mr. Bayes, indeed I think will be very necessary.
Smith. And when comes in your share, pray, sir?
Bayes. The third week.
Johns. I vow you'll get a world of money.
Bayes. Why, faith, a man must live; and if you don't thus pitch upon some new device, egad, you'll never do't; for this age (take it o' my word) is somewhat hard to please. But there is one pretty odd passage in the last of these plays, which may be executed two several ways, wherein I'd have your opinion, gentlemen.
Johns. What is't, sir.
Bayes. Why, sir, I make a male person to be in love with a female.
Smith. Do you mean that, Mr. Bayes, for a new thing?
Bayes. Yes, sir, as I have order'd it. You shall hear: he having passionately lov'd her through my five whole plays, finding at last that she consents to his love, just after that his mother had appear'd to him like a ghost, he kills himself: that's one way. The other is, that she coming at last to love him, with as violent a passion as he lov'd her, she kills herself. Now my question is, which of these two persons should suffer upon this occasion?
Johns. By my troth, it is a very hard case to decide.
Bayes. The hardest in the world, egad, and has puzzled this pate very much. What say you, Mr. Smith?
Smith. Why truly, Mr. Bayes, if it might stand with your justice now, I would spare 'em both.
Bayes. Egad, and I think—ha—why then, I'll make him hinder her from killing herself. Ay, it shall be so. Come, come, bring in the funeral.
Enter a Funeral, with the two Usurpers and Attendants.
Lay it down there; no, no, here, sir. So now speak.
K. Ush. Set down the funeral pile, and let our grief
Receive from its embraces some relief.
K. Phys. Was't not unjust to ravish hence her breath,
And in life's stead, to leave us nought but death?
The world discovers now its emptiness,
And by her loss demonstrates we have less.
Bayes. Is not this good language now? is not that elevate? 'tis my non ultra, egad; you must know they were both in love with her.
Smith. With her! with whom?
Bayes. Why, this is Lardella's funeral.
Smith. Lardella! ay, who is she?
Bayes. Why, sir, the sister of Drawcansir; a lady that was drown'd at sea, and had a wave for her winding-sheet.[37]
K. Ush. Lardella, O Lardella, from above
Behold the tragic issues of our love:
Pity us, sinking under grief and pain,
For thy being cast away upon the main.
Bayes. Look you now, you see I told you true.
Smith. Ay, sir, and I thank you for it very kindly.
Bayes. Ay, egad, but you will not have patience; honest Mr.—a—you will not have patience.
Johns. Pray, Mr. Bayes, who is that Drawcansir?
Bayes. Why, sir, a fierce hero, that frights his mistress, snubs up kings, baffles armies, and does what he will, without regard to numbers, good manners, or justice.[38]
Johns. A very pretty character!
Smith. But, Mr. Bayes, I thought your heroes had ever been men of great humanity and justice.
Bayes. Yes, they have been so; but for my part, I prefer that one quality of singly beating of whole armies, above all your moral virtues put together, egad. You shall see him come in presently. Zookers, why don't you read the paper? [To the Players.
K. Phys. O, cry you mercy. [Goes to take the paper.
Bayes. Pish! nay you are such a fumbler. Come, I'll read it myself.
[Takes the paper from off the coffin.
Stay, it's an ill hand, I must use my spectacles. This now is a copy of verses, which I make Lardella compose just as she is dying, with design to have it pinn'd upon her coffin, and so read by one of the usurpers, who is her cousin.
Smith. A very shrewd design that, upon my word, Mr. Bayes.
Bayes. And what do you think now, I fancy her to make love like, here, in this paper?
Smith. Like a woman: what should she make love like?
Bayes. O' my word you are out tho', sir; egad you are.
Smith. What then, like a man?
Bayes. No, sir; like a humble-bee.
Smith. I confess, that I should not have fancy'd.
Bayes. It may be so, sir; but it is tho', in order to the opinion of some of our ancient philosophers, who held the transmigration of the soul.
Smith. Very fine.
Bayes. I'll read the title: "To my dear Couz, King Physician."
Smith. That's a little too familiar with a king, tho', sir, by your favour, for a humble-bee.
Bayes. Mr. Smith, in other things, I grant your knowledge may be above me; but as for poetry, give me leave to say I understand that better: it has been longer my practice; it has indeed, sir.
Smith. Your servant, sir.
Bayes. Pray mark it. [Reads.
"Since death my earthly part will thus remove,
I'll come a humble-bee to your chaste love:
With silent wings I'll follow you, dear couz;
Or else, before you, in the sunbeams, buz.
And when to melancholy groves you come,
An airy ghost, you'll know me by my hum;
For sound, being air, a ghost does well become."[39]
Smith (after a pause). Admirable!
Bayes. "At night, into your bosom I will creep,
And buz but softly if you chance to sleep:
Yet in your dreams, I will pass sweeping by,
And then both hum and buz before your eye."
Johns. By my troth, that's a very great promise.
Smith. Yes, and a most extraordinary comfort to boot.
Bayes. "Your bed of love from dangers I will free;
But most from love of any future bee.
And when with pity your heart-strings shall crack,
With empty arms I'll bear you on my back."
Smith. A pick-a-pack, a pick-a-pack.
Bayes. Ay, egad, but is not that tuant now, ha? is it not
tuant? Here's the end.
"Then at your birth of immortality,
Like any wingéd archer hence I'll fly,
And teach you your first fluttering in the sky."
Johns. Oh, rare! this is the most natural, refined fancy that ever I heard, I'll swear.
Bayes. Yes, I think, for a dead person, it is a good way enough of making love; for, being divested of her terrestrial part, and all that, she is only capable of these little, pretty, amorous designs that are innocent, and yet passionate. Come, draw your swords.
K. Phys. Come, sword, come sheath thyself within this breast,
Which only in Lardella's tomb can rest.
K. Ush. Come, dagger, come and penetrate this heart,
Which cannot from Lardella's love depart.
Enter Pallas.
Pal. Hold, stop your murd'ring hands
At Pallas's commands:
For the supposéd dead, O kings,
Forbear to act such deadly things.
Lardella lives; I did but try
If princes for their loves could die.
Such celestial constancy
Shall, by the gods, rewarded be:
And from these funeral obsequies,
A nuptial banquet shall arise.
[The coffin opens, and a banquet is discovered.
Bayes. So, take away the coffin. Now 'tis out. This is the very funeral of the fair person which Volscius sent word was dead; and Pallas, you see, has turned it into a banquet.
Smith. Well, but where is this banquet?
Bayes. Nay, look you, sir; we must first have a dance, for joy that Lardella is not dead. Pray, sir, give me leave to bring in my things properly at least.
Smith. That, indeed, I had forgot; I ask your pardon.
Bayes. Oh, d'ye so, sir? I am glad you will confess yourself once in an error, Mr. Smith.
[Dance.]
K. Ush. Resplendent Pallas, we in thee do find
The fiercest beauty, and a fiercer mind:
And since to thee Lardella's life we owe,
We'll supple statues in thy temple grow.
K. Phys. Well, since alive Lardella's found,
Let in full bowls her health go round.
[The two Usurpers take each of them a bowl in their hands.
K. Ush. But where's the wine?
Pal. That shall be mine.
Lo, from this conquering lance
Does flow the purest wine of France: [Fills the bowls out of her lance.
And to appease your hunger, I
Have in my helmet brought a pie:
Lastly, to bear a part with these,
Behold a buckler made of cheese.[40] [Vanish Pallas.
Bayes. That's the banquet. Are you satisfied now, sir?
Johns. By my troth now, that is new, and more than I expected.
Bayes. Yes, I knew this would please you; for the chief art in poetry is to elevate your expectation, and then bring you off some extraordinary way.
Enter Drawcansir.
K. Phys. What man is this that dares disturb our feast?
Draw. He that dares drink, and for that drink dares die;
And knowing this, dares yet drink on, am I.[41]
Johns. That is, Mr. Bayes, as much as to say, that though he would rather die than not drink, yet he would fain drink for all that too.
Bayes. Right; that's the conceit on't.
Johns. 'Tis a marvellous good one, I swear.
Bayes. Now, there are some critics that have advis'd me to put out the second dare, and print must in the place on't;[42] but, egad, I think 'tis better thus a great deal.
Johns. Whoo! a thousand times.
Bayes. Go on then.
K. Ush. Sir, if you please, we should be glad to know,
How long you here will stay, how soon you'll go?
Bayes. Is not that now like a well-bred person, egad? so modest, so gent!
Smith. O very like.
Draw. You shall not know how long I here will stay;
But you shall know I'll take your bowls away.[43]
[Snatches the bowls out of the kings' hands and drinks them off.
Smith. But, Mr. Bayes, is that, too, modest and gent?
Bayes. No, egad, sir, but 'tis great.
K. Ush. Tho', brother, this grum stranger be a clown,
He'll leave us sure a little to gulp down.
Draw. Whoe'er to gulp one drop of this dare think,
I'll stare away his very power to drink,[44]
[The two Kings sneak off the stage with their attendants.
I drink, I huff, I strut, look big and stare;
And all this I can do because I dare.[45] [Exit.
Smith. I suppose, Mr. Bayes, this is the fierce hero you spoke of?
Bayes. Yes; but this is nothing. You shall see him in the last act win above a dozen battles, one after another, egad, as fast as they can possibly come upon the stage.
Johns. That will be a fight worth the seeing, indeed.
Smith. But pray, Mr. Bayes, why do you make the kings let him use them so scurvily?
Bayes. Phoo! that's to raise the character of Drawcansir.
Johns. O' my word, that was well thought on.
Bayes. Now, sirs, I'll show you a scene indeed; or rather, indeed, the scene of scenes. 'Tis an heroic scene.
Smith. And pray, what's your design in this scene?
Bayes. Why, sir, my design is gilded truncheons, forc'd conceit, smooth verse and a rant; in fine, if this scene don't take, egad, I'll write no more. Come, come in, Mr.—a—nay, come in as many as you can. Gentlemen, I must desire you to remove a little, for I must fill the stage.
Smith. Why fill the stage?
Bayes. Oh, sir, because your heroic verse never sounds well but when the stage is full.