No More Learning

"_Leic_.

Then let's embrace--and now--[_Kneels. _"

_Sneer_. What the plague, is he going to pray?
_Puff_. Yes; hush! --in great emergencies, there Is nothing
like a prayer.
"_Leic_.

O mighty Mars! "

_Dang_. But why should he pray to Mars?
_Puff_. Hush!
"_Leic_.

If in thy homage bred,
Each point of discipline I've still observed;
Nor but by due promotion, and the right
Of service, to the rank of major-general
Have risen; assist thy votary now!

_Gov_.

Yet do not rise--hear me! [_Kneels. _]

_Mast_.

And me! [_Kneels. ]

Knight_.

And me! [_Kneels. ]

Sir Walt_.

And me! [_Kneels. ]

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;
Assist 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 shores, 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 noble 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 hits 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!
_Tilb_. A title!
_Gov_. Honour!
_Tilb_. A pension!
_Gov_. Conscience!
_Tilb_. A thousand pounds!
_Gov_. Ha! thou hast touch'd me nearly! "
_Puff_. There you see-she threw in _Tilburina_. Quick,
parry Carte with _England_! Ha! thrust in tierce _a
title_! --parried by _honour_. Ha! _a pension_ over
the arm! --put by by _conscience_. Then flankonade with _a
thousand pounds_--and a palpable hit, egad!
"_Tilb_. Canst thou--Reject the suppliant, and the daughter
too?
_Gov_. No more; I would not hear thee plead in vain: The
father softens--but the governor Is fix'd! [_Exit_. ]"
_Dang_. Ay, that antithesis of persons is a most established
figure.
"_Tilb_. 'Tis well,--hence then, fond hopes,--fond passion
hence; Duty, behold I am all over thine--
_Whisk_. [_Without_. ] Where is my love--my--
_Tilb_. Ha!
_Enter_ DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.
_Whisk_. My beauteous enemy! --"
_Puff_. O dear, ma'am, you must start a great deal more than
that! Consider, you had just determined in favour of duty--when,
in a moment, the sound of his voice revives your passion--
overthrows your resolution--destroys your obedience. If you don't
express all that in your start, you do nothing at all.
_Tilb_. Well, we'll try again.
_Dang_. Speaking from within has always a fine effect.
_Sneer_. Very.
"_Whisk_. My conquering Tilburina! How! is't thus We meet?
why are thy looks averse? what means That falling tear--that
frown of boding woe? Ha! now indeed I am a prisoner! Yes, now I
feel the galling weight of these Disgraceful chains--which, cruel
Tilburina! Thy doting captive gloried in before. --But thou art
false, and Whiskerandos is undone!
_Tilb_. O no! how little dost thou know thy Tilburina!
_Whisk_. Art thou then true? --Begone cares, doubts, and
fears, I make you all a present to the winds; And if the winds
reject you--try the waves. "
_Puff_. The wind, you know, is the established receiver of
all stolen sighs, and cast-off griefs and apprehensions.
"_Tilb_. Yet must we part! --stern duty seals our doom Though
here I call yon conscious clouds to witness, Could I pursue the
bias of my soul, All friends, all right of parents, I'd disclaim,
And thou, my Whiskerandos, shouldst be father And mother,
brother, cousin, uncle, aunt, And friend to me!
_Whisk_. Oh, matchless excellence! and must we part? Well,
if--we must--we must--and in that case The less is said the
better. "
_Puff_. Heyday! here's a cut! --What, are all the mutual
protestations out?
_Tilb_. Now, pray, sir, don't interrupt us just here: you
ruin our feelings.
_Puff_. Your feelings! --but, zounds, my feelings, ma'am!
_Sneer_. No, pray don't interrupt them.
"_Whisk_. One last embrace.
_Tilb_. Now,--farewell, for ever.
_Whisk_. For ever!
_Tilb_. Ay, for ever! [_Going_. ]"
_Puff_. 'Sdeath and fury! --Gad's life! --sir! madam! if you
go out without the parting look, you might as well dance out.
Here, here!
_Con_. But pray, sir, how am I to get off here?
_Puff_. You! pshaw! what the devil signifies how you get
off! edge away at the top, or where you will--[_Pushes the_
CONFIDANT _off_. ] Now, ma'am, you see--
_Tilb_. We understand you, sir.
"Ay, for ever.
_Both_. Oh! [_Turning back, and exeunt. --Scene
closes_. ]"
_Dang_. Oh, charming!
_Puff_. Hey! --'tis pretty well, I believe: you see I don't
attempt to strike out anything new--but I take it I improve on
the established modes.
_Sneer_. You do, indeed! But pray is not Queen Elizabeth to
appear?
_Puff_. No, not once--but she is to be talked of for ever;
so that, egad, you'll think a hundred times that she is on the
point of coming in.
_Sneer_. Hang it, I think it's a pity to keep her in the
green-room all the night.
_Puff_. O no, that always has a fine effect--it keeps up
expectation.
_Dang_. But are we not to have a battle?
_Puff_. Yes, yes, you will have a battle at last: but, egad,
it's not to be by land, but by sea--and that is the only quite
new thing in the piece.
_Dang_. What, Drake at the Armada, hey?
_Puff_. Yes, i'faith--fire-ships and all; then we shall end
with the procession. Hey, that will do, I think? ,
_Sneer_. No doubt on't.
_Puff_. Come, we must not lose time; so now for the under-plot.
_Sneer_. What the plague, have you another plot?
_Puff_. O Lord, yes; ever while you live have two plots to
your tragedy. The grand point in managing them is only to let
your under-plot have as little connection with your main-plot as
possible. --I flatter myself nothing can be more distinct than
mine; for as in my chief plot the characters are all great
people, I have laid my under-plot in low life, and as the former
is to end in deep distress, I make the other end as happy as a
farce. --Now, Mr.