The Works of Henry Fielding Part 6

_Mar. sen_. Give it them again to-morrow. I have told some persons of quality that it is a good thing, and I am resolved not to be in the wrong: let us see which will be weary first, the town of d.a.m.ning, or we of being d.a.m.ned.

_Mar. jun_. Rat the town, I say.

_Mar. sen_. That's a good boy; and so say I: but, prithee, what didst thou do with the comedy which I gave thee t'other day, that I thought a good one?

_Mar. jun_. Did as you ordered me; returned it to the author, and told him it would not do.

_Mar. sen_. You did well. If thou writest thyself, and that I know thou art very well qualified to do, it is thy interest to keep back all other authors of any merit, and be as forward to advance those of none.

_Mar. jun_. But I am a little afraid of writing; for my writings, you know, have fared but ill hitherto.

_Mar. sen_. That is because thou hast a little mistaken the method of writing. The art of writing, boy, is the art of stealing old plays, by changing the name of the play, and new ones, by changing the name of the author.

_Mar. jun_. If it was not for these cursed hisses and catcalls----

_Mar. sen_. Harmless musick, child, very harmless musick, and what, when one is but well seasoned to it, has no effect at all: for my part, I have been used to them.

_Mar. jun_. Ay, and I have been used to them too, for that matter.

_Mar. sen_. And stood them bravely too. Idle young actors are fond of applause, but, take my word for it, a clap is a mighty silly, empty thing, and does no more good than a hiss; and, therefore, if any man loves hissing, he may have his three shillings worth at me whenever he pleases. [_Exeunt_.

SCENE III.--_A Room in_ BOOKWEIGHT'S _house_.--DASH, BLOTPAGE, QUIBBLE, _writing at several tables_.

_Dash_. Pox on't, I'm as dull as an ox, tho' I have not a bit of one within me. I have not dined these two days, and yet my head is as heavy as any alderman's or lord's. I carry about me symbols of all the elements; my head is as heavy as water, my pockets are as light as air, my appet.i.te is as hot as fire, and my coat is as dirty as earth.

_Blot_. Lend me your Bysshe, Mr Dash, I want a rhime for wind.

_Dash_. Why there's blind, and kind, and behind, and find, and mind: it is of the easiest termination imaginable; I have had it four times in a page.

_Blot_. None of those words will do.

_Dash_. Why then you may use any that end in ond, or and, or end. I am never so exact: if the two last letters are alike, it will do very well. Read the verse.

_Blot_. "Inconstant as the seas or as the wind."

_Dash_. What would you express in the next line?

_Blot_. Nay, that I don't know, for the sense is out already. I would say something about inconstancy.

_Dash_. I can lend you a verse, and it will do very well too.

"Inconstancy will never have an end."

End rhimes very well with wind.

_Blot_. It will do well enough for the middle of a poem.

_Dash_. Ay, ay, anything will do well enough for the middle of a poem. If you can but get twenty good lines to place at the beginning for a taste, it will sell very well.

_Quib_. So that, according to you, Mr Dash, a poet acts pretty much on the same principles with an oister-woman.

_Dash_. Pox take your simile, it has set my chaps a watering: but come, let us leave off work for a while, and hear Mr Quibble's song.

_Quib_. My pipes are pure and clear, and my stomach is as hollow as any trumpet in Europe.

_Dash_. Come, the song.

SONG.

AIR. _Ye Commons and Peers_.

How unhappy's the fate To live by one's pate,

And be forced to write hackney for bread!

An author's a joke To all manner of folk, Wherever he pops up his head, his head, Wherever he pops up his head.

Tho' he mount on that hack, Old Pegasus' back, And of Helicon drink till he burst, Yet a curse of those streams, Poetical dreams, They never can quench one's thirst, &c.

Ah! how should he fly On fancy so high, When his limbs are in durance and hold?

Or how should he charm, With genius so warm, When his poor naked body's a cold, &c.

SCENE IV.--BOOKWEIGHT, DASH, QUIBBLE, BLOTPAGE.

_Book_. Fie upon it, gentlemen! what, not at your pens? Do you consider, Mr Quibble, that it is a fortnight since your Letter to a Friend in the Country was published? Is it not high time for an Answer to come out? At this rate, before your Answer is printed, your Letter will be forgot. I love to keep a controversy up warm. I have had authors who have writ a pamphlet in the morning, answered it in the afternoon, and answered that again at night.

_Quib_. Sir, I will be as expeditious as possible: but it is harder to write on this side the question, because it is the wrong side.

_Book_. Not a jot. So far on the contrary, that I have known some authors choose it as the properest to shew their genius. But let me see what you have produced; "With all deference to what that very learned and most ingenious person, in his Letter to a Friend in the Country, hath advanced." Very well, sir; for, besides that, it may sell more of the Letter: all controversial writers should begin with complimenting their adversaries, as prize-fighters kiss before they engage. Let it be finished with all speed. Well, Mr Dash, have you done that murder yet?

_Dash_. Yes, sir, the murder is done; I am only about a few moral reflexions to place before it.

_Book_. Very well: then Jet me have the ghost finished by this day se'nnight.

_Dash_. What sort of a ghost would you have this, sir? the last was a pale one.

_Book_. Then let this be a b.l.o.o.d.y one. Mr Quibble, you may lay by that life which you are about; for I hear the person is recovered, and write me out proposals for delivering five sheets of Mr Bailey's English Dictionary every week, till the whole be finished. If you do not know the form, you may copy the proposals for printing Bayle's Dictionary in the same manner. The same words will do for both.

_Enter_ INDEX.

So, Mr Index, what news with you?