"_Whisk._ I thank thee, Fortune, that hast thus bestowed A weapon to chastise this insolent. [_Takes up one of the swords_.]
_Beef._ I take thy challenge, Spaniard, and I thank thee, Fortune, too! [_Takes up the other sword_.]"
_Dang._ That"s excellently contrived!--It seems as if the two uncles had left their swords on purpose for them.
_Puff._ No, egad, they could not help leaving them.
"_Whisk_. Vengeance and Tilburina!
_Beef_. Exactly so-- [_They fight--and after the usual number of wounds given_, WHISKERANDOS _falls_.]
_Whisk_. O cursed parry!--that last thrust in tierce Was fatal.--Captain, thou hast fenced well! And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all eter-- _Beef_.--nity--he would have added, but stern death Cut short his being, and the noun at once!"
_Puff_. Oh, my dear sir, you are too slow: now mind me.-- Sir, shall I trouble you to die again?
"_Whisk_. And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all eter-- _Beef_.--nity--he would have added,--"
_Puff_. No, sir--that"s not it--once more, if you please.
_Whisk_. I wish, sir, you would practise this without me--I can"t stay dying here all night.
_Puff_. Very well; we"ll go over it by-and-by.--[_Exit_ WHISKERANDOS.] I must humour these gentlemen!
"_Beef_. Farewell, brave Spaniard! and when next--"
_Puff_. Dear sir, you needn"t speak that speech, as the body has walked off.
_Beef_. That"s true, sir--then I"ll join the fleet.
_Puff_. If you please.--[Exit BEEFEATER.] Now, who comes on?
"_Enter_ GOVERNOR, _with his hair properly disordered_.
_Gov_. A hemisphere of evil planets reign! And every planet sheds contagious frenzy! My Spanish prisoner is slain! my daughter, Meeting the dead corse borne along, has gone Distract!
[_A loud flourish of trumpets_.] But hark! I am summoned to the fort: Perhaps the fleets have met! amazing crisis! O Tilburina! from thy aged father"s beard Thou"st pluck"d the few brown hairs which time had left! [Exit.]"
_Sneer_. Poor gentleman!
_Puff_. Yes--and no one to blame but his daughter!
_Dang_. And the planets-- _Puff_. True.--Now enter Tilburina!
_Sneer._ Egad, the business comes on quick here.
_Puff._ Yes, sir--now she comes in stark mad in white satin.
_Sneer._ Why in white satin?
_Puff._ O Lord, sir--when a heroine goes mad, she always goes into white satin.--Don"t she, Dangle?
_Dang._ Always--it"s a rule.
_Puff._ Yes--here it is--[_Looking at the book_.]
"Enter Tilburina stark mad in white satin, and her confidant stark mad in white linen."
"_Enter_ TILBURINA _and_ CONFIDANT, _mad, according to custom_."
_Sneer._ But, what the deuce! is the confidant to be mad too?
_Puff._ To be sure she is: the confidant is always to do whatever her mistress does; weep when she weeps, smile when she smiles, go mad when she goes mad.--Now, Madam Confidant--but keep your madness in the background, if you please.
"_Tilb._ The wind whistles--the moon rises--see, They have kill"d my squirrel in his cage: Is this a gra.s.shopper?--Ha! no; it is my Whiskerandos--you shall not keep him--I know you have him in your pocket--An oyster may be cross"d in love!--who says A whale"s a bird?--Ha! did you call, my love?--He"s here! he"s there!--He"s everywhere! Ah me! he"s nowhere! [_Exit_.]"
_Puff._ There, do you ever desire to see anybody madder than that?
_Sneer._ Never, while I live!
_Puff._ You observed how she mangled the metre?
_Dang._ Yes,--egad, it was the first thing made me suspect she was out of her senses!
_Sneer._ And pray what becomes of her?
_Puff._ She is gone to throw herself into the sea, to be sure--and that brings us at once to the scene of action, and so to my catastrophe--my sea-fight, I mean.
_Sneer._ What, you bring that in at last?
_Puff._ Yes, yes--you know my play is called _The Spanish Armada_; otherwise, egad, I have no occasion for the battle at all.--Now then for my magnificence!--my battle!--my noise!--and my procession!--You are all ready?
_Und. Promp_. [_Within._] Yes, sir.
_Puff_. Is the Thames dressed?
"_Enter_ THAMES _with two_ ATTENDANTS."
_Thames_. Here I am, sir.
_Puff_. Very well, indeed!--See, gentlemen, there"s a river for you!--This is blending a little of the masque with my tragedy--a new fancy, you know--and very useful in my case; for as there must be a procession, I suppose Thames, and all his tributary rivers, to compliment Britannia with a fete in honour of the victory.
_Sneer_. But pray, who are these gentlemen in green with him?
_Puff_. Those?--those are his banks.
_Sneer_. His banks?
_Puff_. Yes, one crowned with alders, and the other with a villa!--you take the allusions?--But hey! what the plague!--you have got both your banks on one side.--Here, sir, come round.-- Ever while you live, Thames, go between your banks.--[_Bell rings._] There; so! now for"t!--Stand aside, my dear friends!--Away, Thames!
[_Exit_ THAMES _between his banks._]
[_Flourish of drums, trumpets, cannon, &c., &"c. Scene changes to the sea--the fleets engage--the music plays--"Britons strike home."--Spanish fleet destroyed by fire-ships, &c.--English fleet advances--music plays, "Rule Britannia."--The procession of all the English rivers, and their tributaries, with their emblems, &c., begins with Handel"s water music, ends with a chorus to the march in Judas" Maccabaeus.--During this scene,_ PUFF _directs and applauds everything--then_ _Puff_. Well, pretty well--but not quite perfect. So, ladies and gentlemen, if you please, we"ll rehea.r.s.e this piece again to-morrow.
[_Curtain drops._]