A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic Part 15

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; a.s.sist 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 sh.o.r.es, 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 n.o.ble 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. .h.i.ts 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!