SIR SIMON RAFFLER. That captain’s likeness sticks still in my stomach: if I was sure there was nothing in that, I think I should be a little easy: but that is not to be hoped. I am convinced now, that I am a cuckold, and shall find it out.
MR. MONDISH. Sir Simon, here, shall be the merriest of us all. Believe me, knight, if it be the last day of your jealousy, it is the first of your happiness: —
You husbands grow from these examples wise,
View your wives’ conduct still with partial eyes.
If your opinions err, they better stray
In the good Colonel’s than Sir Simon’s way.
At ease still sleeps the credulous husband’s breast;
Spite of his wife, within himself he’s blest.
The jealous their own miseries create,
And make themselves the very thing they hate.
EPILOGUE
SPOKEN BY MRS. HERON
THE Play being done, according to our laws,
I come to plead with you our Author’s cause.
As for our smart gallants, I know they’ll say,
“Damn him! There’s one sad character in’s Play.”
What! on a couch, alone, and in the dark!
Ladies, there’s no such fellow as this SPARK.
What can he mean in such an age as this is,
When scarce a beau but keeps a brace of misses?
They keep! why, gentlemen, perhaps, ‘Tis true,
So do our sweet Italian singers too.
What can one think of all the beaus in town,
When with the ladies such gallants go down?
Th’ Italian dames, should this report grow common,
Will surely pity us poor Englishwomen.
By the vast sums we pay them for their strains.
They’ll think, perhaps, we don’t abound in brains?
But should they hear their singers turn gallants;
Beaus, faith! they’ll think brains not your only wants
— Now for the wits — but they so nice are grown,
French only with their palates will go down.
French plays applause have, like French dishes, got
Only because you understand them not.
Happy Old England, in those glorious days,
When good plain English good and sense could please:
When men were dressed like men, nor curled their hair.
Instead of charming, to out-charm the fair.
They knew by manly means soft hearts to move,
Nor asked an eunuch’s voice to melt their nymphs to love.
— Ladies, ‘Tis yours to reinstate that age,
Do yon assist the satire of the stage!
Teach foreign mimics by a generous scorn,
You’re not ashamed of being Britons born;
Make it to your eternal honour known,
That men must bear your frowns, whenever show
That they prefer all countries to their own.
PASQUIN, A DRAMATICK SATIRE ON THE TIME S
CONTENTS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
ACT I.
PROLOGUE.
ACT II.
ACT III.
PROLOGUE.
ACT IV.
ACT V.
EPILOGUE
PASQUIN;
A DRAMATICK SATIRE ON THE TIMES
BEING THE REHEARSAL OF TWO PLAYS: VIZ.,
A COMEDY CALLED
THE ELECTION,
AND A TRAGEDY CALLED
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF COMMON SENSE.
FIRST ACTED IN APRIL 1736.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
Trapwit, Author . . . Mr ROBERTS,
Fustian, Author . . . Mr LACY.
Sneerwell (a critick) . . Mr MACHEN.
Several Players and Prompter.
PERSONS IN THE COMEDY.
Lord Place, Candidate . Mrs CHARKE,
Colonel Promise, Candidate . Mr FREEMAN,
Sir Henry Fox-Chace, Candidate . Mr TOPHAM,
Squire Tankard, Candidate . Mr SMITH,
Mayor . . . . Mr JONES.
Aldermen, Voters, &c.
Mrs Mayoress . . . Mrs EGERTON.
Miss Mayoress . . . Miss J. JONES.
Miss Stitch . . . Miss BURGESS. Servants, Mob, &c.
PERSONS IN THE TRAGEDY.
Queen Common-Sense . . Mrs EGERTON.
Queen Ignorance . . Mr STRENSHAM.
Firebrand (Priest of the Sun) . Mr ROBERTS.
Law . . . . Mr YATES.
Physick . . . Mr JONES.
Ghost of Tragedy . . Mr PULLEN.
Ghost of Comedy . . Mr JONES.
Third Ghost . . . Mr WALLIS.
Harlequin . . . Mr PULLEN.
Officer . . . Mr PULLEN.
Messenger . . . Mr WALLIS.
Drummer . . . Mr LOWDER.
Attendants on Ignorance, Maids of Honour, &c.
SCENE, the Play-House.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — Enter several Players.
1 Play. When does the rehearsal begin?
2 Play. I suppose we shall hardly rehearse the comedy this morning, for the author was arrested as he was going home from King’s coffee-house; and, as I heard it was for upward of four pound, I suppose he will hardly get bail.
1 Play. Where’s the tragedy-author then? I have a long part in both, and it’s past ten o’clock.
Wom. P. Ay, I have a part in both too; I wish any one else had them, for they are not seven lengths put together. I think it is very hard a woman of my standing should have a short part put upon her. I suppose Mrs Merit will have all our principal parts now, but I am resolved I’ll advertise against her. I’ll let the town know how I am injured.
1 Play. Oh! here comes our tragedy-poet.
Enter FUSTIAN.
Fust. Gentlemen, your servant; ladies, yours. I should have been here sooner, but I have been obliged, at their own requests, to wait upon some half-dozen persons of the first quality with tickets: upon my soul 1 have been chid for putting off my play so long. I hope you are all quite perfect, for the town will positively stay for it no longer. I think I may very well put upon the bills, At the particular desire of several ladles of quality, the first night.
Enter Prompter.
Promp. Mr Fustian, we must defer the rehearsal of your tragedy, for the gentleman who plays the first ghost is not yet up; and when he is, he has got such a churchyard-cough he will not be heard to the middle of the pit.
1 Play. I wish you could cut the ghost out, sir, for I am terribly afraid he’ll be damned if you don’t.
Fust. Cut him out, sir? He is one of the most considerable persons in the play.
Promp. Then, sir, you must give the part to somebody else; for the present is so lame he can hardly walk the stage.
Fust. Then he shall be carried, for no man in England can act a ghost like him. Sir, he was born a ghost — he was made for the part — and the part writ for him.
Promp. Well, sir, then we hope you will give us leave to rehearse the comedy first.
Fust. Ay, ay, you may rehearse it first, if you please, and act it first too. If it keeps mine back above three nights, I am mistaken. I don’t know what friends the author may have; but if ever such stuff, such damned, incoherent, senseless stuff, was ever brought on any stage — if the audience suffer it to go through three acts — Oh! he’s here.
Enter TRAPWIT.
Dear Mr Trapwit! your most humble servant, sir; I read your comedy over last night, and a most excellent one it is: if it runs as long as it deserves you will engross the whole season to yourself.
Trap. Sir, I am glad it met with your approbation, as there is no man whose taste and judgment I have a better opinion of. But pray, sir, why don’t they proceed to the rehearsal of your tragedy? I assure you, sir, I had much difficulty to get hither so early.
2 Play. Yes, faith, I believe you had. [Aside.
Fust. Sir, your comedy is to be rehearsed first.
Trap. Exc
use me, sir, I know the deference due to tragedy better.
Fust. Sir, I would not have you think I give up the cause of tragedy; but my ghost, being ill, sir, cannot get up without danger, and I would not risque the life of my ghost on any account.
Trap. You are in the right on’t, sir; for a ghost is the soul of tragedy.
Fust. Ay, sir, I think it is not amiss to remind people of those things which they are now-a-days too apt to disbelieve; besides, we have lately had an act against witches, and I don’t question but shortly we shall have one against ghosts. But come, Mr Trapwit, as we are for this once to give the precedence to comedy, e’en let us begin.
Trap. Ay, ay, with all my heart. Come, come, where’s the gentleman who speaks the prologue? This prologue, Mr Fustian, was given me by a friend, who does not care to own it till he tries whether it succeeds or no.
Enter Player for the Prologue.
Come, sir, make a very low bow to the audience; and shew as much concern as possible in your looks.
PROLOGUE.
As crafty lawyers, to acquire applause,
Try various arts to get a doubtful cause;
Or, as a dancing master in a jigg,
With various steps instructs the dancing prig;
Or as a doctor writes you different bills;
Or as a quack prescribes you different pills;
Or as a fiddler plays more tunes than one;
Or as a baker bakes more bread than brown;
Or as a tumbler tumbles up and down;
So does our author, rummaging his brain,
By various methods try to entertain;
Brings a strange groupe of characters before you,
And shews you here at once both Whig and Tory;
Or court and country party you may call ‘em:
But without fear and favour he will maul ‘em.
To you, then, mighty sages of the pit —
Trap. Oh! dear sir, seem a little more affected, I beseech you; advance to the front of the stage, make a low bow, lay your hand upon your heart, fetch a deep sigh, and pull out your handkerchief: To you, then, mighty sages of the pit —
Prol. To you, then, mighty sages of the pit,
Our author humbly does his cause submit.
He trys to please — oh! take it not amiss:
And though it should be dull, oh! do not hiss;
Laugh, if you can — if you cannot laugh, weep:
When you can wake no longer — fall asleep.
Trap. Very well! very well, sir! You have affected me, I am sure.
Fust. And so he will the audience, I’ll answer for them.
Trap. Oh, sir, you’re too good-natured; but, sir, I do assure you I had writ a much better prologue of my own; but, as this came gratis, have reserved it for my next play — a prologue saved is a prologue got, brother Fustian. But come, where are your actors? Is Mr Mayor and the Aldermen at the table?
Promp. Yes, sir; but they want wine, and we can get none from the quaker’s cellar without ready money.
Trap. Rat him! can’t he trust till the third night? Here, take sixpence, and fetch two pots of porter, put it into bottles, and it will do for wine well enough.
Fust. Ay, faith, and the wine will be as good as the wit, I’ll answer for it. [Aside.
Trap. Mr Fustian, you’ll observe I do not begin this play, like most of our modern comedies, with three or four gentlemen who are brought on only to talk wit; for, to tell you the truth, sir, I have very little, if any, wit in this play. No, sir, this is a play consisting of humour, nature, and simplicity. It is written, sir, in the exact and true spirit of Moliere: and this I will say for it, that, except about a dozen, or a score or so, there is not one impure joke in it. But come, clear the stage, and draw the back scene! Mr Fustian, if you please to sit down by me.
[Mayor and Aldermen discovered.
Fust. Pray, sir, who are these characters?
Trap. Sir, they are Mr Mayor of the town and his brethren, consulting about the election.
Fust. Are they all of a side, sir?
Trap. Yes, sir, as yet; for you must know, sir, that all the men in this borough are very sensible people, and have no party principles for which they cannot give a good reason; Mr Mayor, you begin the play.
May. Gentlemen, I have summoned you together to consider of proper representatives for this borough: you know the candidates on the court side are my lord Place and colonel Promise; the country candidates are Sir Henry Fox-chace and squire Tankard; all worthy gentlemen, and I wish with all my heart we could chuse them all four.
1 Ald. But since we cannot, Mr Mayor, I think we should stand by our neighbours; gentlemen whose honesty we are witnesses of, and whose estates in our own neighbourhood render ‘em not liable to be bribed.
Fust. This gentleman, Mr Trapwit, does not seem so unbiassed in his principles as you represented him.
Trap. Pugh, sir! you must have one fool in a play; beside, I only writ him to set off the rest.
May. Mr Alderman, you have a narrow way of thinking; honesty is not confined to a country; a man that lives a hundred miles off may be as honest as him who lives but three.
Ald. Ay, ay, ay, ay. [Shaking their heads.
May. Besides, gentlemen, are we not more obliged to a foreigner for the favours he does us than to one of our own neighbours who has obligations to us? I believe, gentlemen, there is not one of us who does not eat and drink with Sir Harry at least twenty times in a twelvemonth; now, for my part, I never saw or heard of either my lord or the colonel till within this fortnight; and yet they are as obliging, and civil and familiar, as if we had been born and bred together.
1 Ald. Nay, they are very civil, well-bred men, that is the truth on’t; but won’t they bring a standing army upon us?
May. Mr Alderman, you are deceived; the country party will bring a standing army upon us; whereas, if we chuse my lord and the colonel, we shan’t have a soldier in town. But, mum! here are my lord and the colonel.
Enter Lord PLACE and Col. PROMISE.
Place. Gentlemen, your most humble servant; I have brought the colonel to take a morning’s whet with you.
May. Your lordship and the colonel do us great honour; pray, my lord, be pleased to sit down; pray, colonel, be pleased to sit. More wine here.
Fust. I wish, Mr Trapwit, your actors don’t get drunk in the first act.
Trap. Dear sir, don’t interrupt the rehearsal.
Place. Gentlemen, prosperity to the corporation!
Fust. Sir, I am a well-wisher to the corporation, and, if you please, will pledge his lordship: — success to your comedy, Mr Trapwit. [Drinks.
Trap. Give me a glass — sir, here’s to your tragedy. Now, pray, no more interruption; for this scene is one continual joke, and if you open your lips in it you will break the thread of the jest.
May. My lord, we are sensible of your great power to serve this corporation, and we do not doubt but we shall feel the effect on’t.
Place. Gentlemen, you may depend on me; I shall do all in my power. I shall do you some services which are not proper at present to mention to you; in the meantime, Mr Mayor, give me leave to squeeze you by the hand, in assurance of my sincerity.
Trap. You, Mr, that act my lord, bribe a little more openly, if you please, or the audience will lose that joke, and it is one of the strongest in my whole play.
Place. Sir, I cannot possibly do it better at the table.
Trap. Then get all up, and come forward to the front of the stage. Now, you gentlemen that act the mayor and aldermen, range yourselves in a line; and you, my lord and the colonel, come to one end and bribe away with right and left.
Fust. Is this wit, Mr Trapwit?
Trap. Yes, sir, it is wit; and such wit as will run all over the kingdom.
Fust. But, methinks, colonel Promise, as you call him, is but ill-named; for he is a man of very few words.
Trap. You’ll be of another opinion before the play is over; at present his hands are too full of
business; and you may remember, sir, I before told you this is none of your plays wherein much is said and nothing done. Gentlemen, are you all bribed?
Omnes. Yes, sir.
Trap. Then, my lord and the colonel, you must go off, and make room for the other candidates to come on and bribe too. [Exeunt PLACE and PROMISE.
Fust. Is there nothing but bribery in this play of yours, Mr Trapwit?
Trap. Sir, this play is an exact representation of nature; I hope the audience will date the time of action before the bill of bribery and corruption took place; and then I believe it may go down; but now, Mr Fustian, I shall shew you the art of a writer, which is, to diversify his matter, and do the same thing several ways. You must know, sir, I distinguish bribery into two kinds, the direct and the indirect: the first you have seen already; and now, sir, I shall give you a small specimen of the other. Prompter, call Sir Harry and the squire. But, gentlemen, what are you doing? How often shall I tell you that the moment the candidates are gone out you are to retire to the table, and drink and look wise; you, Mr Mayor, ought to look very wise.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 330