Another of these dramas, wherein the poet’s fancy has taken a wider range, presents scenes of a more varied nature. Mercury enters as an allegorical character, and as the representative of the planet which bears his name. He explains the theory of the planetary system and the zodiac, and cites astronomical facts from Regiomontanus, in a long series of stanzas in the old national style. A seraph then appears, who is sent down from heaven by God, in compliance with the prayers of Time. The seraph, in the quality of a herald, proclaims a large yearly fair in honour of the Holy Virgin, and invites customers to it. A devil next makes his appearance with a little stall which he carries before him. He gets into a dispute with Time and the seraph, and asserts, that among men such as they are, he shall be sure to find purchasers for his wares. He therefore leaves to every customer his free choice. Mercury then summons eternal Rome as the representative of the church. She appears, and offers for sale Peace of Mind, as the most precious of her merchandise. The devil remonstrates, and Rome retires. Two Portuguese peasants now appear in the market: one is very anxious to sell his wife, and observes, that if he cannot sell her, he will give her away for nothing, as she is a wicked spendthrift. Amidst this kind of conversation a party of peasant women enter, one of whom, with considerable comic warmth, vents bitter complaints against her husband. She tells, with a humorous simplicity, that her ungrateful husband has robbed her garden of its fruits before they were ripe; that he never does any thing, but leads a sottish life, eating and drinking all day, &c. The man who has already been inveighing against his wife immediately recognises her, and says,—“That is my slippery helpmate.” During this succession of comic scenes the action does not advance. The devil at last opens his little stall and displays his stock of goods to the female peasants; but one of them, who is the most pious of the party, seems to suspect that all is not quite right with regard to the merchandise, and she exclaims—“Jesus! Jesus! true God and man!” The devil immediately takes to flight, and does not reappear; but the seraph again comes forward and mingles with the rustic groups. The throng continues to increase; other countrywomen with baskets on their heads arrive; and the market is stored with vegetables, poultry, and other articles of rural produce. The seraph offers Virtues for sale; but they find no purchasers. The peasant girls observe, that in their village money is more sought after than virtue, when a young man wants a wife. One of the party, however, says, that she wished to come to the market because it happened to fall on the festival of the mother of God; and because the Virgin does not sell her gifts of grace, but distributes them gratis. This observation crowns the theological morality of the piece, which terminates with a hymn of praise, in the popular style, in honour of the Holy Virgin.[290]
[290] Bouterwek.
POACHING.
A poor itinerant player, caught performing the part of a poacher, and being taken before the magistrates assembled at a quarter sessions for examination, one of them asked him what right he had to kill a hare? when he replied in the following ludicrous parody on Brutus’s speech to the Romans, in defence of the death of Cæsar:—
“Britons, hungry-men, and epicures! hear me for my cause; and be silent—that you may hear; believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of this hare, to him I say, that a player’s love for hare is no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why a player rose against a hare, this is my answer,—not that I loved hare less, but that I loved eating more. Had you rather this hare were living, and I had died starving—than that this hare were dead, that I might live a jolly fellow? As this hare was pretty, I weep for him; as he was nimble, I rejoice at it; as he was plump, I honour him; but, as he was eatable, I slew him. There are tears, for his beauty; joy, for his condition; honour, for his speed; and death, for his toothsomeness. Who is here so cruel, would see a starved man? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so silly, that would not take a tit bit? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so sleek, that does not love his belly? If any, speak, for him have I offended.”
“You have offended justice, sirrah,” cried one of the magistrates, out of all patience at this long and strange harangue.
“Then,” cried the culprit, guessing at the hungry feelings of the bench, “since justice is dissatisfied, it must needs have something to devour—Heaven forbid I should keep any gentleman from his dinner—so, if you please, I’ll wish your worships a good day, and a good appetite.”