Chapter XIII: Act V

SCENE I.--_Enter_ FUSTIAN, SNEERWELL, Prompter, FIREBRAND, LAW, PHYSICK.

_Fust_. I am glad you have made your escape; but I hope you will make the matter up before the day of action: come, Mr Firebrand, now if you please go on; the moment Common Sense goes off the stage Law and Physick enter.

_Fireb_. Oh! my good lords of Physick and of Law, Had you been sooner here you would have heard The haughty queen of Common Sense throw out Abuses on us all.

_Law_. I am not now To learn the hatred which she bears to me. No more of that--for now the warlike queen Of Ignorance, attended with a train Of foreigners, all foes to Common Sense, Arrives at Covent-garden; and we ought To join her instantly with all our force. At Temple-bar some regiments parade; The colonels, Clifford, Thavies, and Furnival, Through Holborn lead their powers to Drury-lane, Attorneys all compleatly armed in brass: These, bailiffs and their followers will join, With justices, and constables, and watchmen.

_Phys_. In Warwick-lane my powers expect me now: A hundred chariots with a chief in each, Well-famed for slaughter, in his hand he bears A feather'd dart that seldom errs in flight. Next march a band of choice apothecaries, Each arm'd with deadly pill; a regiment Of surgeons terrible maintain the rear. All ready first to kill, and then dissect.

_Fireb_. My lords, you merit greatly of the queen, And Ignorance shall well repay your deeds; For I foretel that by her influence Men shall be brought (what scarce can be believed) To bribe you with large fees to their undoing. Success attend your glorious enterprize; I'll go and beg it earnest of the Sun: I, by my office, am from fight debarr'd, But I'll be with you ere the booty's shared.

[_Exeunt_ FIREBRAND, LAW, _and_ PHYSICK

_Fust_. Now, Mr Sneerwell, we shall begin my third and last act; and I believe I may defy all the poets who have ever writ, or ever will write, to produce its equal: it is, sir, so crammed with drums and trumpets, thunder and lightning, battles and ghosts, that I believe the audience will want no entertainment after it: it is as full of shew as Merlin's cave itself; and for wit--no rope-dancing or tumbling can come near it. Come, begin.

[_A ridiculous march is played_.

_Enter_ Queen IGNORANCE, _attended with_ Singers, Fidlers, Rope-dancers, Tumblers, &c.

_Q. Ign_. Here fix our standard; what is this place called?

1_Att_. Great madam, Covent-garden is its name.

_Q. Ign_. Ha! then methinks we have ventured too far, Too near those theatres where Common Sense Maintains her garrisons of mighty force; Who, should they sally on us ere we're joined By Law and Physick, may offend us much.

[_Drum beats within_.

But ha! what means this drum?

1_Att_. It beats a parley, not a point of war

_Enter_ HARLEQUIN.

_Harl_. To you, great queen of Ignorance, I come Embassador from the two theatres; Who both congratulate you on your arrival; And to convince you with what hearty meaning They sue for your alliance, they have sent Their choicest treasure here as hostages, To be detain'd till you are well convinced They're not less foes to Common Sense than you.

_Q. Ign_. Where are the hostages?

_Harl_. Madam, I have brought A catalogue, and all therein shall be Deliver'd to your order; but consider, Oh mighty queen! they offer you their all; And gladly for the least of these would give Their poets and their actors in exchange.

_Q. Ign_. Read the catalogue.

_Harl_. [_Reads_.] "A tall man, and a tall woman, hired at a vast price. A strong man exceeding dear. Two dogs that walk on their hind legs only, and personate human creatures so well, they might be mistaken for them. A human creature that personates a dog so well that he might almost be taken for one. Two human cats. A most curious set of puppies. A pair of pigeons. A set of rope-dancers and tumblers from Sadler's-wells."

_Q. Ign_. Enough, enough; and is it possible That they can hold alliance with my friends Of Sadler's-wells? then are they foes indeed To Common Sense, and I'm indebted to 'em. Take back their hostages, for they may need 'em; And take this play, and bid 'em forthwith act it; There is not in it either head or tail.

_Harl_. Madam, they will most gratefully receive it. The character you give would recommend it, Though it had come from a less powerful hand.

_Q. Ign_. The Modish Couple is its name; myself Stood gossip to it, and I will support This play against the town.

_I Att_. Madam, the queen Of Common Sense advances with her powers.

_Q. Ign_. Draw up my men, I'll meet her as I ought; This day shall end the long dispute between us.

_Enter_ Queen COMMON SENSE _with a_ Drummer.

_Fust_. Hey-day! where's Common Sense's army?

_Promp_. Sir, I have sent all over the town, and could not get one soldier for her, except that poor drummer, who was lately turned out of an Irish regiment.

_Drum_. Upon my shoul but I have been a drummer these twenty years, master, and have seen no wars yet; and I was willing to learn a little of my trade before I died.

_Fust_. Hush, sirrah! don't you be witty; that is not in your part.

_Drum_. I don't know what is in my part, sir; but T desire to have something in it; for I have been tired of doing nothing a great while.

_Fust_. Silence!

_Q. C. S_. What is the reason, madam, that you bring These hostile arms into my peaceful realm?

_Q. Ign. To ease your subjects from that dire oppression They groan beneath, which longer to support Unable, they invited my redress.

_Q. C. S_. And can my subjects then complain of wrong? Base and ungrateful! what is their complaint?

_Q. Ign_. They say you do impose a tax of thought Upon their minds, which they're too weak to bear.

_Q. C. S_. Wouldst thou from thinking then absolve mankind?

_Q. Ign_. I would, for thinking only makes men wretched; And happiness is still the lot of fools. Why should a wise man wish to think, when thought Still hurts his pride; in spite of all his art, Malicious fortune, by a lucky train Of accidents, shall still defeat his schemes, And set the greatest blunderer above him.

_Q. C. S_. Urgest thou that against me, which thyself Has been the wicked cause of? Which thy power, Thy artifice, thy favourites have done? Could Common Sense bear universal sway, No fool could ever possibly be great.

_Q. Ign_. What is this folly, which you try to paint In colours so detestable and black? Is't not the general gift of fate to men? And though some few may boast superior sense, Are they not call'd odd fellows by the rest? In any science, if this sense peep forth, Shew men the truth, and strive to turn their steps From ways wherein their gross forefathers err'd, Is not the general cry against them straight?

_Sneer_. This Ignorance, Mr Fustian, seems to know a great deal.

_Fust_. Yes, sir, she knows what she has seen so often; but you find she mistakes the cause, and Common Sense can never beat it into her.

_Q. Ign_. Sense is the parent still of fear; the fox, Wise beast, who knows the treachery of men, Flies their society, and skulks in woods, While the poor goose, in happiness and ease, Fearless grows fat within its narrow coop, And thinks the hand that feeds it is its friend; Then yield thee, Common Sense, nor rashly dare Try a vain combat with superior force.

_Q. C. S_. Know, queen, I never will give up the cause Of all these followers: when at the head Of all these heroes I resign my right, May my curst name be blotted from the earth!

_Sneer_. Methinks, Common Sense, though, ought to give it up, when she has no more to defend it.

_Fust_. It does indeed look a little odd at present; but I'll get her an army strong enough against its acted. Come, go on.

_Q. Ign_. Then thus I hurl defiance at thy head. Draw all your swords.

_Q. C. S_. And, gentlemen, draw yours.

_Q. Ign_. Fall on; have at thy heart.

[_A fight_

_Q. C. S_. And have at thine.

_Fust_. Oh, fie upon't, fie upon't! I never saw a worse battle in all my life upon any stage. Pray, gentlemen, come some of you over to the other side.

_Sneer_. These are Swiss soldiers, I perceive, Mr Fustian; they care not which side they fight of.

_Fust_. Now, begin again, if you please, and fight away; pray fight as if you were in earnest, gentlemen. [_They fight_.] Oons, Mr Prompter! I fancy you hired these soldiers out of the trained bands--they are afraid to fight even in jest. [_They fight again_.] There, there--pretty well. I think, Mr Sneerwell, we have made a shift to make out a good sort of a battle at last.

_Sneer_. Indeed I cannot say I ever saw a better.

_Fust_. You don't seem, Mr Sneerwell, to relish this battle greatly.

_Sneer_. I cannot profess myself the greatest admirer of this part of tragedy; and I own my imagination can better conceive the idea of a battle from a skilful relation of it than from such a representation; for my mind is not able to enlarge the stage into a vast plain, nor multiply half a score into several thousands.

_Fust_. Oh; your humble servant! but if we write to please you and half a dozen others, who will pay the charges of the house? Sir, if the audience will be contented with a battle or two, instead of all the raree-fine shows exhibited to them in what they call entertainments----

_Sneer_. Pray, Mr Fustian, how came they to give the name of entertainments to their pantomimical farces?

_Fust_. Faith, sir, out of their peculiar modesty; intimating that after the audience had been tired with the dull works of Shakspeare, Jonson, Vanbrugh, and others, they are to be entertained with one of these pantomimes, of which the master of the playhouse, two or three painters, and half a score dancing-masters are the compilers. What these entertainments are, I need not inform you, who have seen 'em; but I have often wondered how it was possible for any creature of human understanding, after having been diverted for three hours with the production of a great genius, to sit for three more and see a set of people running about the stage after one another, without speaking one syllable, and playing several juggling tricks, which are done at Fawks's after a much better manner; and for this, sir, the town does not only pay additional prices, but loses several fine parts of its best authors, which are cut out to make room for the said farces.

_Sneer_. 'Tis very true; and I have heard a hundred say the same thing, who never failed being present at them.

_Fust_. And while that happens, they will force any entertainment upon the town they please, in spite of its teeth. [_Ghost of_ COMMON SENSE _rises_.] Oons, and the devil, madam! what's the meaning of this? You have left out a scene. Was ever such an absurdity as for your ghost to appear before you are killed.

_Q. C. S_. I ask pardon, sir; in the hurry of the battle I forgot to come and kill myself.

_Fust_. Well, let me wipe the flour off your face then. And now, if you please, rehearse the scene; take care you don't make this mistake any more though, for it would inevitably damn the play if you should. Go to the corner of the scene, and come in as if you had lost the battle.

_Q. C. S_. Behold the ghost of Common Sense appears.

_Fust_. 'Sdeath, madam, I tell you you are no ghost--you are not killed.

_Q. C. S_. Deserted and forlorn, where shall I fly. The battle's lost, and so are all my friends.

_Enter a_ Poet.

_Poet_. Madam, not so; still you have one friend left.

_Q. C. S_. Why, what art thou?

_Poet_. Madam, I am a poet.

_Q. C. S_. Whoe'er thou art, if thou'rt a friend to misery, Know Common Sense disclaims thee.

_Poet_. I have been damn'd Because I was your foe, and yet I still Courted your friendship with my utmost art.

_Q. C. S_. Fool! thou wert damn'd because thou didst pretend Thyself my friend; for hadst thou boldly dared, Like Hurlothrumbo, to deny me quite, Or, like an opera or pantomime, Profess'd the cause of Ignorance in publick, Thou might'st have met with thy desired success; But men can't bear even a pretence to me.

_Poet_. Then take a ticket for my benefit night.

_Q. C. S_. I will do more--for Common Sense will stay Quite from your house, so may you not be damn'd.

_Poet_. Ha! say'st thou? By my soul, a better play Ne'er came upon a stage; but, since you dare Contemn me thus, I'll dedicate my play To Ignorance, and call her Common Sense: Yes, I will dress her in your pomp, and swear That Ignorance knows more than all the world. [_Exit_.

_Enter_ FIREBRAND.

_Fireb_. Thanks to the Sun for this desired encounter.

_Q. C. S_. Oh, priest! all's lost; our forces are o'erthrown-- Some gasping lie, but most are run away.

_Fireb_. I knew it all before, and told you too The Sun has long been out of humour with you.

_Q. C. S_. Dost thou, then, lay upon the Sun the faults Of all those cowards who forsook my cause?

_Fireb_. Those cowards all were most religious men: And I beseech thee, Sun, to shine upon them.

_Q. C. S_. Oh, impudence! and darest thou to my face?--

_Fireb_. Yes, I dare more; the Sun presents you this, [_Stabs her_. Which I, his faithful messenger, deliver.

_Q. C. S_. Oh, traytor! thou hast murder'd Common Sense. Farewel, vain world! to Ignorance I give thee, Her leaden sceptre shall henceforward rule. Now, priest, indulge thy wild ambitious thoughts; Men shall embrace thy schemes, till thou hast drawn All worship from the Sun upon thyself: Henceforth all things shall topsy-turvy turn; Physick shall kill, and Law enslave the world; Cits shall turn beaus, and taste Italian songs, While courtiers are stock-jobbing in the city. Places requiring learning and great parts Henceforth shall all be hustled in a hat, And drawn by men deficient in them both. Statesmen--but oh! cold death will let me say No more--and you must guess _et caetera_. [_Dies_.

_Fireb_. She's gone! but ha! it may beseem me ill T' appear her murderer. I'll therefore lay This dagger by her side; and that will be Sufficient evidence, with a little money, To make the coroner's inquest find self-murder. I'll preach her funeral sermon, and deplore Her loss with tears, praise her with all my art. Good Ignorance will still believe it all. [_Exit_.

_Enter_ Queen IGNORANCE, &c.

_Q. Ign_. Beat a retreat; the day is now our own; The powers of Common Sense are all destroy'd; Those that remain are fled away with her. I wish, Mr Fustian, this speech be common sense.

_Sneer_. How the devil should it, when she's dead?

_Fust_. One would think so, when a cavil is made against the best thing in the whole play; and I would willingly part with anything else but those two lines.

_Harl_. Behold! where welt'ring in her blood she lies. I wish, sir, you would cut out that line, or alter it, if you please.

_Fust_. That's another line that I won't part with; I would consent to cut out anything but the chief beauties of my play.

_Harl_. Behold the bloody dagger by her side, With which she did the deed.

_Q. Ign_. 'Twas nobly done! I envy her her exit, and will pay All honours to her dust. Bear hence her body, And let her lie in state in Goodman's fields.

_Enter_ Messenger.

_Mess_. Madam, I come an envoy from Crane-court. The great society that there assemble Congratulate your victory, and request That firm alliance henceforth may subsist Between your majesty's society Of Grub-street and themselves: they rather beg That they may be united both in one. They also hope your majesty's acceptance Of certain curiosities, which in That hamper are contain'd, wherein you'll find A horse's tail, which has a hundred hairs More than are usual in it; and a tooth Of elephant full half an inch too long; With turnpike-ticket like an ancient coin.

_Q. Ign_. We gratefully accept their bounteous gifts, And order they be kept with proper care, Till we do build a place most fit to hold These precious toys: tell your society We ever did esteem them of great worth, And our firm friends: and tell 'em 'tis our pleasure They do prepare to dance a jig before us. [_Exit_ Messenger

My lords of Law and Physick, you shall find I will not be ungrateful for your service: To you, good Harlequin, and your allies, And you, Squeekaronelly, I will be A most propitious queen--But ha! [_Music under the stage_. What hideous music or what yell is this? Sure 'tis the ghost of some poor opera tune.

_Sneer_. The ghost of a tune, Mr Fustian!

_Fust_. Ay, sir, did you never hear one before? I had once a mind to have brought the apparition of Musick in person upon the stage, in the shape of an English opera. Come, Mr Ghost of the Tune, if you please to appear in the sound of soft musick, and let the ghost of Common Sense rise to it.

[_Ghost of_ COMMON SENSE _rises to soft musick_.

_Ghost_. Behold the ghost of Common Sense appears. Caitiffs, avaunt! or I will sweep you off, And clean the land from such infernal vermin.

_Q. Ign_. A ghost! a ghost! a ghost! haste, scamper off, My friends; we've kill'd the body, and I know The ghost will have no mercy upon us.

_Omnes_. A ghost! a ghost! a ghost! [_Run off_.

_Ghost_. The coast is clear, and to her native realms Pale Ignorance with all her host is fled, Whence she will never dare invade us more. Here, though a ghost, I will my power maintain, And all the friends of Ignorance shall find My ghost, at least, they cannot banish hence; And all henceforth, who murder Common Sense, Learn from these scenes that, though success you boast. You shall at last be haunted with her ghost.

_Sneer_. I am glad you make Common Sense get the better at last; I was under terrible apprehensions for your moral.

_Fust_. Faith, sir, this is almost the only play where she has got the better lately. But now for my epilogue: if you please to begin, madam.