The Rehearsal/Act 4-1
ACTUS IV. SCÆNA I.
Bayes, and the two Gentlemen.
Bayes.Gentlemen, because I would not have any two things alike in this Play, the last Act beginning with a witty Scene of mirth, I make this to begin with a Funeral.
Smi. And is that all your reason for it, Mr. Bayes?
Bayes. No, Sir; I have a precedent for it too. A person of Honour, and a Scholar, brought in his Funeral just so: and he was one (let me tell you) that knew as well what belong'd to a Funeral, as any man in England, I gad.
Johns. Nay, if that be so, you are safe.
Bayes. I gad, but I have another device, a frolick, which I think yet better than all this; not for the Plot or Characters, (for, in my Heroick Plays, I make no difference, as to those matters) but for another contrivance.
Smi. What is that, I pray?
Bayes. Why, I have design'd a Conquest, that cannot possibly, I gad, be acted in less than a whole week: and I'l speak a bold word, it shall Drum, Trumpet, Shout and Battel, I gad, with any the most warlike Tragœdy we have, either ancient or modern.
Johns. I marry, Sir; there you say something.
Smi. And pray, Sir, how have you order'd this same frolick of yours?
Bayes. Faith, Sir, by the Rule or Romance. For example: they divide their things into three, four, five, six, seven, eight, or as many Tomes as they please: now, I would very fain know, what should hinder me, from doing the same with my things, if I please.
Johns. Nay, if you should not be Master of your own works, 'tis very hard.
Bayes. That is my sence. And therefore, Sir, whereas every one makes five Acts to one Play, what do me I, but make five Plays to one Plot: by which means the Auditors have every day a new thing.
Johns. Most admirably good, i'faith! and must certainly take, because it is not tedious.
Bayes. I, Sir, I know that, there's the main point. And then, upon Saturday, to make a close of all, (for I ever begin upon a Monday) I make you, Sir, a sixth Play, that sums up the whole matter to 'em, and all that, for fear they should have forgot it.
Johns. That consideration, Mr. Bayes, indeed, I think, will be very necessary.
Smi. And when comes in your share, pray Sir?
Bayes. The third week.
Johns. I vow, you'l get a world of money.
Bayes. Why, faith, a man must live: and if you don't, thus, pitch upon some new device, I gad, you'l never do it, for this Age (take it o' my word) is somewhat hard to please. There is one prettie odd passage, in the last of these Plays, which may be executed to several ways, wherein I'ld have your opinion, Gentlemen.
Johns. Well, what is't?
Bayes. Why, Sir, I make a Male person to be in Love with a Female.
Smi. Do you mean that, Mr. Bayes, for a new thing?
Bayes. Yes, Sir, as I have order'd it. You shall hear. He having passionately lov'd her through my five whole Plays, finding at last that she consents to his love, just after that his Mother had appear'd to him like a Ghost, he kills himself. That's one way. The other is, that she coming at last to love him, with as violent a passion as he lov'd her, she kills her self. Now my question is, which of these two persons should suffer upon this occasion?
Johns. By my troth, it is a very hard case to decide.
Bayes. The hardest in the world, I gad; and has puzzled this pate very much. What say you, Mr. Smith?
Smi. Why, truly, Mr. Bayes, if it might stand with your justice, I should now spare 'em both.
Bayes. I gad, and I think ———ha——— why then, I'l make him hinder her from killing her self. Ay, it shall be so. Come, come, bring in the Funeral.
Enter a Funeral, with the two Usurpers and Attendants.
Lay it down there: no, here, Sir. So, now speak.
K. Ush. Set down the Funeral Pile, and let our grief
Receive, from its embraces, some relief.
K. Phys. Was't not unjust to ravish hence her breath,
And, in life's stead, to leave us nought but death?
The world discovers now its emptiness,
And, by her loss, demonstrates we have less.
Bayes. Is not that good language now? is not that elevate? It's my non ultra, I gad. You must know they were both in love with her.
Smi. With her? with whom?
Bayes. Why, this is Lardella's Funeral.
Smi. Lardella! I, who is she?
Bayes. Why, Sir, the Sister of Drawcansir. A Ladie that was drown'd at Sea, and had a wave for her winding-sheet.
K. Ush. Lardella, O Lardella, from above,
Behold the Tragick issue of our Love.
Pitie us, sinking under grief and pain,
For thy being cast away upon the Main.
Bayes. Look you now, you see I told you true.
Smi. I, Sir, and I thank you for it, very kindly.
Bayes. Ay, I gad, but you will not have patience; honest Mr. ——— a ——— you will not have patience.
Johns. Pray, Mr. Bayes, who is that Drawcansir?
Bayes. Why, Sir, a fierce Hero, that frights his Mistriss, snubs up Kings, baffles Armies, and does what he will, without regard to good manners, justice or numbers.
Johns. A very prettie Character.
Smi. But, Mr. Bayes, I thought your Heroes had ever been men of great humanity and justice.
Bayes. Yes, they have been so; but, for my part, I prefer that one quality of singly beating of whole Armies, above all your moral vertues put together, I gad. You shall see him come in presently. Zookers, why don't you read the papyr? [To the Players.
K. Phys. O, cry you mercie. [Goes to take the papyr.
Bayes. Pish! nay you are such a fumbler. Come, I'l read it my self. [Takes a papyr from off the coffin.Stay, it's an ill hand, I must use my Spectacles. This, now, is a Copie of Verses, which I make Lardella compose, just as she is dying, with design to have it pin'd on her Coffin, and so read by one of the Usurpers, who is her Cousin.
Smi. A very shrewd design that, upon my word, Mr. Bayes.
Bayes. And what do you think I fancie her to make Love like, here, in the papyr?
Smi. Like a woman: what should she make Love like?
Bayes. O'my word you are out though, Sir; I gad you are.
Smi. What then? like a man?
Bayes. No, Sir; like a Humble Bee.
Smi. I confess, that I should not have fancy'd.
Bayes. It may be so, Sir. But it is, though, in order to the opinion of some of your ancient Philosophers, who held the transmigration of the soul.
Smi. Very fine.
Bayes. I'l read the Title. To my dear Couz, King Phys.
Smi. That's a little too familiar with a King, though, Sir, by your favour, for a Humble Bee.
Bayes. Mr. Smith, for other things, I grant your knowledge may be above me; but, as for Poetry, give me leave to say, I understand that better: it has been longer my practice; it has indeed, Sir.
Smi. Your servant, Sir.
Bayes. Pray mark it.
Since death my earthly part will thus remove [Reads.
I'l come a Humble Bee to your chaste love.
With silent wings I'll follow you, dear Couz;
Or else, before you, in the Sun-beams buz.
And when to Melancholy Groves you come,
An Airy Ghost, you'l know me by my Hum;
For sound, being Air, a Ghost does well become.
Smi. After a pause. Admirable!
Bayes. At night, into your bosom I will creep,
And Buz but softly if you chance to sleep:
Yet, in your Dreams, I will pass sweeping by,
And then, both Hum and Buz before your eye.
Johns. By my troth, that's a very great promise.
Smi. Yes, and a most extraordinary comfort to boot.
Bayes. Your bed of Love, from dangers I will free;
But most, from love of any future Bee.
And when, with pitie, you heart-strings shall crack,
With emptie arms I'l bear you on my back.
Smi. A pick-a-pack, a pick-a-pack.
Bayes. Ay, I gad, but is not that tuant now, ha? is it not tuant? Here's the end.
Then, at your birth of immortality,
Like any winged Archer, hence I'l fly,
And teach you your first flutt'ring in the Sky.
Johns. O rare! it is the most natural, refin'd fancie this, that ever I heard, I'l swear.
Bayes. Yes, I think, for a dead person, it is a good enough way of making love: for being divested of her Terrestrial part, and all that, she is only capable of these little, pretty, amorous designs that are innocent, and yet passionate. Come, draw your swords.
K. Phys. Come sword, come sheath thy self within this brest,
That only in Lardella's Tomb can rest.
K. Ush. Come, dagger, come, and penetrate this heart,
Which cannot from Lardella's Love depart.
Enter Pallas.
Pal. Hold, stop your murd'ring hands
At Pallases commands:
For the supposed dead, O Kings,
Forbear to act such deadly things.
Lardella lives: I did but try
If Princes for their Loves could dye.
Such Cœlestial constancie
Shall, by the Gods, rewarded be:
And from these Funeral obsequies
A Nuptial Banquet shall arise.
Bayes. Now it's out. This is the very Funeral of the fair person which Volscius sent word was dead, and Pallas, you see, has turn'd it into a Banquet.
Johns. By my troth, now, that is new, and more than I expected.
Bayes. Yes, I knew this would please you: for the chief Art in Poetry is to elevate your expectation, and then bring you off some extraordinary way.
K. Ush. Resplendent Pallas, we in thee do find
The fiercest Beauty, and a fiercer mind:
And since to thee Lardella's life we owe,
We'l supple Statues in thy Temple grow.
K. Phys. Well, since alive Lardella's found,
Let, in full Boles, her health go round.
K. Ush. But where's the Wine?
Pal. That shall be mine.
Lo, from this conquering Lance,
Does flow the purest wine of France: [Fills the Boles out of her Lance.
And, to appease your hunger, I
Have, in my Helmet, brought a Pye:
Lastly, to bear a part with these,
Behold a Buckler made of Cheese. [Vanish Pallas.
Enter Drawcansir.
K. Phys. What man is this that dares disturb our feast?
Draw. He that dares drink, and for that drink dares die,
And, knowing this, dares yet drink on, am I.
Johns. That is as much as to say, that though he would rather die than not drink, yet he would fain drink for all that too.
Bayes. Right; that's the conceipt on't.
Johns. 'Tis a marveilous good one, I swear.
K. Ush. Sir, if you please, we should be glad to know
How long you here will stay, how soon you'l go.
Bayes. Is not that now like a well-bred person, I gad? So modest, so gent!
Smi. O, very like.
Draw. You shall not know how long I here will stay;
But you shall know I'l take my Boles away.
Smi. But, Mr. Bayes, is that (too) modest and gent?
Bayes. No, I glad, Sir, but it's great.
K. Ush. Though, Brother, this grum stranger be a Clown,
He'l leave us, sure, a little to gulp down.
Draw. Who e'er to gulp one drop of this dares think
I'l stare away his very pow'r to drink.
And all this I can do, because I dare. [Exit.
Smi. I suppose, Mr. Bayes, this is the fierce Hero you spoke of.
Bayes. Yes; but this is nothing: you shall see him, in the last Act, win above a dozen battels, one after another, I gad, as fast as they can possibly be represented.
Johns. That will be a sight worth seeing, indeed.
Smi. But pray, Mr. Bayes, why do you make the Kings let him use 'em so scurvily?
Bayes. Phoo! that is to raise the character of Drawcansir.
Johns. O' my word, that was well thought on.
Bayes. Now, Sir, I'l shew you a Scene indeed; or rather, indeed, the Scene of Scenes. 'Tis an Heroick Scene.
Smi. And pray, Sir, what is your design in this Scene?
Bayes. Why, Sir, my design is Roman Cloaths, guilded Truncheons, forc'd conceipt, smooth Verse, and a Rant: In fine, if this Scene does not take, I gad, I'l write no more. Come, come in, Mr. ——— a ——— nay, come in as many as you can. Gentlemen, I must desire you to remove a little, for I must fill the Stage.
Smi. Why fill the Stage?
Bayes. O, Sir, because your Heroick Verse never sounds well, but when the Stage is full.