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_ ACT II
SCENE I.--The Playhouse.--LUCKLESS, MARPLAY, senior, MARPLAY, junior.
Luck.
[Reads.]
"Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear;
No matter where, so we are bless'd together.
With thee, the barren rocks, where not one step
Of human race lies printed in the snow,
Look lovely as the smiling infant spring."
Mar. sen.
Augh! will you please to read that again, sir?
Luck.
"Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear."
Mar. sen.
"Then hence my sorrow."--Horror is a much better word.--And then in the second line--"No matter where, so we are bless'd together."--Undoubtedly, it should be, "No matter where, so somewhere we're together." Where is the question, somewhere is the answer.--Read on, sir.
Luck.
"With thee,----"
Mar. sen.
No, no, I could alter those lines to a much better idea.
"With thee, the barren blocks, where not a bit
Of human face is painted on the bark,
Look green as Covent-garden in the spring."
Luck.
Green as Covent-garden!
Mar. jun.
Yes, yes; Covent-garden market, where they sell greens.
Luck.
Monstrous!
Mar. sen.
Pray, sir, read on.
Luck.
"LEANDRA: oh, my Harmonio, I could hear thee still;
The nightingale to thee sings out of tune,
While on thy faithful breast my head reclines,
The downy pillow's hard; while from thy lips
I drink delicious draughts of nectar down,
Falernian wines seem bitter to my taste."
Mar. jun.
Here's meat, drink, singing, and lodging, egad.
Luck.
He answers.
Mar. jun.
But, sir----
Luck.
"Oh, let me pull thee, press thee to my heart,
Thou rising spring of everlasting sweets!
Take notice, Fortune, I forgive thee all!
Thou'st made Leandra mine. Thou flood of joy
Mix with my soul, and rush thro' ev'ry vein."
Mar. sen.
Those two last lines again if you please.
Luck.
"Thou'st made," &c.
Mar. jun.
"----Thou flood of joy,
Mix with my soul and rush thro' ev'ry vein."
Those are two excellent lines indeed: I never writ better myself: but, Sar----
Luck.
"Leandra's mine, go bid the tongue of fate
Pronounce another word of bliss like that;
Search thro' the eastern mines and golden shores,
Where lavish Nature pours forth all her stores;
For to my lot could all her treasures fall,
I would not change Leandra for them all."
There ends act the first, and such an act as, I believe, never was on this stage yet.
Mar. jun.
Nor never will, I hope.
Mar. sen.
Pray, sir, let me look at one thing. "Falernian wines seem bitter to my taste."
Pray, sir, what sort of wines may your Falernian be? for I never heard of them before; and I am sure, as I keep the best company, if there had been such sorts of wines, I should have tasted them. Tokay I have drank, and Lacrimas I have drank, but what your Falernian is, the devil take me if I can tell.
Mar. jun.
I fancy, father, these wines grow at the top of Parnassus.
Luck.
Do they so, Mr Pert? why then I fancy you have never tasted them.
Mar. sen.
Suppose you should say the wines of Cape are bitter to my taste.
Luck.
Sir, I cannot alter it.
Mar. sen.
Nor we cannot act it. It won't do, sir, and so you need give yourself no farther trouble about it.
Luck.
What particular fault do you find?
Mar. jun.
Sar, there's nothing that touches me, nothing that is coercive to my passions.
Luck.
Fare you well, sir: may another play be coercive to your passions.
SCENE II.--MARPLAY, senior, MARPLAY, junior.
Mar. sen.
Ha, ha, ha!
Mar. jun.
What do you think of the play?
Mar. sen.
It may be a very good one, for aught I know: but I am resolved, since the town will not receive any of mine, they shall have none from any other. I'll keep them to their old diet.
Mar. jun.
But suppose they won't feed on't?
Mar. sen.
Then it shall be crammed down their throats.
Mar. jun.
I wish, father, you would leave me that art for a legacy, since I am afraid I am like to have no other from you.
Mar. sen.
'Tis buff, child, 'tis buff--true Corinthian brass; and, heaven be praised, tho' I have given thee no gold, I have given thee enough of that, which is the better inheritance of the two. Gold thou might'st have spent, but this is a lasting estate that will stick by thee all thy life.
Mar. jun.
What shall be done with that farce which was damned last night?
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 damning, or we of being damned.
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 appetite 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 bloody 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?
Index.
I have brought my bill, sir.
Book.
What's here? For fitting the motto of Risum teneatis Amici to a dozen pamphlets, at sixpence per each, six shillings; for Omnia vincit Amor, et nos cedamus Amori, sixpence; for Difficile est Satyram non scribere, sixpence. Hum! hum! hum!--sum total for thirty-six Latin mottoes, eighteen shillings; ditto English, one shilling and ninepence; ditto Greek, four--four shillings. These Greek mottoes are excessively dear.
Ind.
If you have them cheaper at either of the universities, I will give you mine for nothing.
Book.
You shall have your money immediately; and pray remember, that I must have two Latin seditious mottoes and one Greek moral motto for pamphlets by to-morrow morning.
Quib.
I want two Latin sentences, sir--one for page the fourth in the praise of loyalty, and another for page the tenth in praise of liberty and property.
Dash.
The ghost would become a motto very well if you would bestow one on him.
Book.
Let me have them all.
Ind.
Sir, I shall provide them. Be pleased to look on that, sir, and print me five hundred proposals and as many receipts.
Book.
"Proposals for printing by subscription a New Translation of Cicero Of the Nature of the Gods, and his Tusculan Questions, by Jeremy Index, Esq." I am sorry you have undertaken this, for it prevents a design of mine.
Ind.
Indeed, sir, it does not; for you see all of the book that I ever intend to publish. It is only a handsome way of asking one's friends for a guinea.
Book.
Then you have not translated a word of it, perhaps.
Ind.
Not a single syllable.
Book.
Well, you shall have your proposals forthwith: but I desire you would be a little more reasonable in your bills for the future, or I shall deal with you no longer; for I have a certain fellow of a college, who offers to furnish me with second-hand mottoes out of the Spectator for twopence each.
Ind.
Sir, I only desire to live by my goods; and I hope you will be pleased to allow some difference between a neat fresh piece, piping hot out of the classicks, and old threadbare worn-out stuff that has past through every pedant's mouth and been as common at the universities as their whores.
SCENE V.--BOOKWEIGHT, DASH, QUIBBLE, BLOTPAGE, SCARECROW.
Scare.
Sir, I have brought you a libel against the ministry.
Book.
Sir, I shall not take anything against them;--for I have two in the press already.
[Aside.]
Scare.
Then, sir, I have an Apology in defence of them.
Book.
That I shall not meddle with neither; they don't sell so well.
Scare.
I have a translation of Virgil's Aeneid, with notes on it, if we can agree about the price.
Book.
Why, what price would you have?
Scare.
You shall read it first, otherwise how will you know the value?
Book.
No, no, sir, I never deal that way--a poem is a poem, and a pamphlet a pamphlet with me. Give me a good handsome large volume, with a full promising title-page at the head of it, printed on a good paper and letter, the whole well bound and gilt, and I'll warrant its selling. You have the common error of authors, who think people buy books to read. No, no, books are only bought to furnish libraries, as pictures and glasses, and beds and chairs, are for other rooms. Look ye, sir, I don't like your title-page: however, to oblige a young beginner, I don't care if I do print it at my own expence.
Scare.
But pray, sir, at whose expence shall I eat?
Book.
At whose? Why, at mine, sir, at mine. I am as great a friend to learning as the Dutch are to trade: no one can want bread with me who will earn it; therefore, sir, if you please to take your seat at my table, here will be everything necessary provided for you: good milk porridge, very often twice a day, which is good wholesome food and proper for students; a translator too is what I want at present, my last being in Newgate for shop-lifting. The rogue had a trick of translating out of the shops as well as the languages.
Scare.
But I am afraid I am not qualified for a translator, for I understand no language but my own.
Book.
What, and translate Virgil?
Scare.
Alas! I translated him out of Dryden.
Book.
Lay by your hat, sir--lay by your hat, and take your seat immediately. Not qualified!--thou art as well versed in thy trade as if thou hadst laboured in my garret these ten years. Let me tell you, friend, you will have more occasion for invention than learning here. You will be obliged to translate books out of all languages, especially French, that were never printed in any language whatsoever.
Scare.
Your trade abounds in mysteries.
Book.
The study of bookselling is as difficult as the law: and there are as many tricks in the one as the other. Sometimes we give a foreign name to our own labours, and sometimes we put our names to the labours of others. Then, as the lawyers have John-a-Nokes and Tom-a-Stiles, so we have Messieurs Moore near St Paul's and Smith near the Royal Exchange.
SCENE VI.--To them, LUCKLESS.
Luck.
Mr Bookweight, your servant. Who can form to himself an idea more amiable than of a man at the head of so many patriots working for the benefit of their country.
Book.
Truly, sir, I believe it is an idea more agreeable to you than that of a gentleman in the Crown-office paying thirty or forty guineas for abusing an honest tradesman.
Luck.
Pshaw! that was only jocosely done, and a man who lives by wit must not be angry at a jest.
Book.
Look ye, sir, if you have a mind to compromise the matter, and have brought me any money--
Luck.
Hast thou been in thy trade so long, and talk of money to a modern author? You might as well have talked Latin or Greek to him. I have brought you paper, sir.
Book.
That is not bringing me money, I own. Have you brought me an opera?
Luck.
You may call it an opera if you will, but I call it a puppet-show.
Book.
A puppet-show!
Luck.
Ay, a puppet show; and is to be played this night at Drury-lane playhouse.
Book.
A puppet-show in a playhouse!
Luck.
Ay, why, what have been all the playhouses a long while but puppet-shows?
Book.
Why, I don't know but it may succeed; at least if we can make out a tolerable good title-page: so, if you will walk in, if I can make a bargain with you I will. Gentlemen, you may go to dinner.
SCENE VII.--Enter JACK-PUDDING, Drummer, Mob.
Jack-P. This is to give notice to all gentlemen, ladies, and others, that at the Theatre Royal in Drury-lane, this evening, will be performed the whole puppet-show called the Pleasures of the Town; in which will be shewn the whole court of nonsense, with abundance of singing, dancing, and several other entertainments: also the comical and diverting humours of Some-body and No-body; Punch and his wife Joan to be performed by figures, some of them six foot high. God save the King.
[Drum beats.]
SCENE VIII.--WITMORE with a paper, meeting LUCKLESS.
Wit.
Oh! Luckless, I am overjoyed to meet you; here, take this paper, and you will be discouraged from writing, I warrant you.
Luck.
What is it?--Oh! one of my play-bills.
Wit.
One of thy play-bills!
Luck.
Even so--I have taken the advice you gave me this morning.
Wit.
Explain.
Luck.
Why, I had some time since given this performance of mine to be rehearsed, and the actors were all perfect in their parts; but we happened to differ about some particulars, and I had a design to have given it over; 'till having my play refused by Marplay, I sent for the managers of the other house in a passion, joined issue with them, and this very evening it is to be acted.
Wit.
Well, I wish you success.
Luck.
Where are you going?
Wit.
Anywhere but to hear you damned, which I must, was I to go to your puppet-show.
Luck.
Indulge me in this trial; and I assure thee, if it be successless, it shall be the last.
Wit.
On that condition I will; but should the torrent run against you, I shall be a fashionable friend and hiss with the rest.
Luck.
No, a man who could do so unfashionable and so generous a thing as Mr Witmore did this morning----
Wit.
Then I hope you will return it, by never mentioning it to me more. I will now to the pit.
Luck.
And I behind the scenes.
SCENE IX.--LUCKLESS, HARRIOT.
Luck.
Dear Harriot!
Har.
I was going to the playhouse to look after you--I am frightened out of my wits--I have left my mother at home with the strangest sort of man, who is inquiring after you: he has raised a mob before the door by the oddity of his appearance; his dress is like nothing I ever saw, and he talks of kings, and Bantam, and the strangest stuff.
Luck.
What the devil can he be?
Har.
One of your old acquaintance, I suppose, in disguise--one of his majesty's officers with his commission in his pocket, I warrant him.
Luck.
Well, but have you your part perfect?
Har.
I had, unless this fellow hath frightened it out of my head again; but I am afraid I shall play it wretchedly.
Luck.
Why so?
Har.
I shall never have assurance enough to go through with it, especially if they should hiss me.
Luck.
Oh! your mask will keep you in countenance, and as for hissing, you need not fear it. The audience are generally so favourable to young beginners: but hist, here is your mother and she has seen us. Adieu, my dear, make what haste you can to the playhouse.
[Exit.]
SCENE X.--HARRIOT, MONEYWOOD.
Har.
I wish I could avoid her, for I suppose we shall have an alarum.
Money.
So, so, very fine: always together, always caterwauling. How like a hangdog he stole off; and it's well for him he did, for I should have rung such a peal in his ears.--There's a friend of his at my house would be very glad of his company, and I wish it was in my power to bring them together.
Har.
You would not surely be so barbarous.
Money.
Barbarous! ugh! You whining, puling fool! Hussey, you have not a drop of my blood in you. What, you are in love, I suppose?
Har.
If I was, madam, it would be no crime,
Money.
Yes, madam, but it would, and a folly too. No woman of sense was ever in love with anything but a man's pocket. What, I suppose he has filled your head with a pack of romantick stuff of streams and dreams, and charms and arms. I know this is the stuff they all run on with, and so run into our debts, and run away with our daughters. Come, confess; are not you two to live in a wilderness together on love? Ah! thou fool! thou wilt find he will pay thee in love just as he has paid me in money. If thou wert resolved to go a-begging, why did you not follow the camp? There, indeed, you might have carried a knapsack; but here you will have no knapsack to carry. There, indeed, you might have had a chance of burying half a score husbands in a campaign; whereas a poet is a long-lived animal; you have but one chance of burying him, and that is, starving him.
Har.
Well, madam, and I would sooner starve with the man I love than ride in a coach and six with him I hate: and, as for his passion, you will not make me suspect that, for he hath given me such proofs on't.
Money.
Proofs! I shall die. Has he given you proofs of love?
Har.
All that any modest woman can require.
Money.
If he has given you all a modest woman can require, I am afraid he has given you more than a modest woman should take: because he has been so good a lodger, I suppose I shall have some more of the family to keep. It is probable I shall live to see half a dozen grandsons of mine in Grub-street.
SCENE XI.--MONEYWOOD, HARRIOT, JACK.
Jack.
Oh, madam! the man whom you took for a bailiff is certainly some great man; he has a vast many jewels and other fine things about him; he offered me twenty guineas to shew him my master, and has given away so much money among the chairmen, that some folks believe he intends to stand member of parliament for Westminster.
Money.
Nay, then, I am sure he is worth inquiring into. So, d'ye hear, sirrah, make as much haste as you can before me, and desire him to part with no more money till I come.
Har.
So, now my mother is in pursuit of money, I may securely go in pursuit of my lover: and I am mistaken, good mamma, if e'en you would not think that the better pursuit of the two.
In generous love transporting raptures lie,
Which age, with all its treasures, cannot buy.
[THE END]
Henry Fielding's play: Author's Farce
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