As performed at the Royal Victoria Theatre, on Monday, December 11, 1837, (under the management of Mr. Oxberry),
The Music composed and arranged by Mr. LEIGH SMITH. The New and Splendid Scenery including Views of Windsor and Eton (as they formerly appeared) from rare and authentic prints, by Mr. JAMES and Assistants. The Machinery by Mr. MOULDS. The Dresses by Miss PHAROAH. The Properties by Mr. MACDONALD.
Between the First and Second Acts a period of 12 Years is presumed to elapse.
Courtiers, Pages of Honour, Lords and Ladies, Watchmen, Ruffians, &c., by a numerous Train of Auxiliaries, engaged to appear in this Drama.
Hush! These are dangerous words, for just now the cause of the king is more like a wreck
than anything else. Hows’ever, let’s have some grog.
What’s wanted?—only say! I’m the man:
What has become of old Humphrey, who formerly kept this house?
Gone—gone to sleep!
Dead? That’s unlucky! The cause has lost a good supporter in him.
What cause? Why, the cause of the king to be sure.
The king? that’s remarkably suspicious! Oh, we know nothing about kings here, we don’t deal in the article. I almost begin to think that you are one of Charles Stuart’s men.
Why, look’ye, sir, if I see a poor fellow, no matter whether he be king or commoner, running away from his enemies, who mean, if they catch him, to kill him without any fault upon his part, and I can give him a lift out of the danger, I’m not the man to say no!
That’s suspicious! Do you know where Charles Stuart is now?
Not exactly, but I suppose he’s sailing somewhere about here, I want to get him aboard my vessel, and—whew! I must be cautious—I say if it lay in your power to do so, wouldn’t you assist him to escape ?
There’s a thousand pounds offered for his head!
Well, and what of that?
Why, it’s a large sum of money !.
Why, Smalltap, you don’t mean as how the money would be any temptation to you to betray him—do you?
It might be to some.
Might it? Well, now I’ll tell you what I think of that—if one man betrays another for the
sake of gold, he ought to be strung up at the yard-arm for it, and damme,
But come, lads, and let’s taste the liquor here, for I hold one glass of comfortable grog to be worth, at least, three hours’ argument.
Hold! I would speak with you.
Who are you ?
I am a friend to the Commonwealth; I am a hater of monarchy. I would do my country a service, and make my own fortune by the act.
Give me your hand; you’re a man after my own heart.
Yes; and in the scheme by which I purpose effecting my ends, I mean to make you a partaker. Listen—in a short time, that is, between this hour and twilight, Charles Stuart will be in yonder house.
Charles Stuart?
Even so; that very house. Lo! from Boscabel have I tracked his footsteps hitherward, like unto the hunter watching the prey he designs to ensnare; now he is within my power; aid me to make him prisoner, and half the rich reward shall be thine own.
Half?—Five hundred pounds? Only tell me what’s to be done?
Observe me—Charles, attended by one friend, will be here almost immediately, not knowing that old Humphrey, who formerly kept this house, and who was a firm loyalist, is dead, they intend resting in your hostelrie for a few hours, and then embarking in yonder vessel for Normandy.
I’ll alarm the household –I’ll publish the affair to the world—here—hallo!
Hold! Not a soul must know of it.
Not a soul, nor a body either?
No, we must keep our own counsel, else the reward will be divided amongst too many.
That’s true, I’ll be mum. How are we to take them?
They are but two, and we are two.
No, we’re not; we are only one—I don’t fight—I only pray!
But to make certain of the game, I purpose going instantly to the camp of General Fairfax, and there procuring soldiers, then return and make our prey safe prisoners.
That’s a thousand times better plan—soldiers were made for fighting.
In the mean time do you watch carefully, and see they do not leave the house.
I’ll take care of that.
Do you know the man, Charles Stuart ?
Not by sight, because I never saw him.
You may easily recognize him, for he will tell you that he is an officer in the army of Parliament, and wishes to be secret here, and likewise that he only designs staying in your house till daybreak. By all this you may know him.
Oh, I’ll find him out I’ll warrant. I haven’t called myself—Master “Watch-and-learn,” for nothing. I say, I’m to have half the reward?
Yes!
Good! That’s just five hundred pounds.
Be careful. I will return an hour ere daybreak. Now for the camp.
I’ll see if I can’t take Charles Stuart prisoner before that fellow comes back, and then he
may whistle for his share of the reward. One thousand pounds are a vast deal better than five
hundred. I’ll keep a keen look out in this affair, and when Charles Stuart does come he’ll
not only find that he’s suspected, but expected; but I must manage the whole reward—five from
five and nothing remains, but five and five are ten. Oh, I must have it all!
Courage, courage, my Rosabelle, we have not far to go—here is the house of entertainment, we can here seek welcome rest, and when the dawn breaks pursue our journey.
I know thou must be so; confusion on the blockhead who undertook to meet us with fresh horses, and then forgot his promise; but ’tis only a short distance now to Brighthelmstone, and once there we are safe.
Should my father discover our elopement—follow and overtake us, ere I become thy bride, we are parted for ever.
I know the stake at hazard well, and will lose it only with my life; when I persuaded thee, Rosabelle, to fly with me from thy father’s house, ’twas only the certainty that he would never consent to our nuptials, that induced me to propose an act of disobedience; I know that he loves you, and when his first anger is over, he will forgive his darling child.
Hallo! there they are, sure enough. That’s the king, as the sailor calls him, and that’s his friend; but which is Charles Stuart? I should like to know that.
Come, let us to the house. Oh, good friend, are you not host here?
Yes, good friend, I am; pray, who are you?
I am an officer of the army of Parliament.
It’s him! I feel as though I had got the thousand pounds already.
We seek shelter in your house till daybreak.
Till daybreak? It’s all right! You shall have it, and welcome too!
We would be very private?
I dare say!
And if we are enquired for, you will act wisely if you say we passed not this way; you understand.
Oh, yes, I understand. It’s him!
To-night then you will provide for us.
Yes, I’ll provide for you to-night.
Come dearest!
That’s him! that’s him! but which is him? Why, I think it must be the little one, because
he tried to hide his face, yes, yes, it’s the little one, and yet, now I think on’t, it may
be the tall one, for it was him that said he was an officer; oh, yes, it’s the tall one, and
yet, it may be the little one, for he looked more like a cavalier, having the longest hair.
Yes, yes, it’s the little one—no, no, it’s the tall one—it may be the little one– I know it’s
the tall one—I mean I know it’s the little one. I know it’s the– I’ll be shot if I know which
it is.
In truth I know not, Master Richard, my memory is a most unaccommodating one, for all those things which I ought to remember I forget; and all those things which I ought to forget I remember. For instance, I can recollect well how I relished last night’s supper of cold beef, concealed under a truss of straw in a stable, but cannot for the life o’ me remember the name of the person who gave it.
Was not this Humphrey formerly a soldier, sire?
He was, I remember him well; he was then a rude, ranting roysterer, but now seeks the true path in a sad coloured doublet, and a closely-cut head of hair.
We must be cautious not to discover ourselves until we have ascertained whether the new host may be safely trusted. What, ho! house here!
Yes, yes, we must be cautious, decidedly cautious, for our loving subjects have a strong desire to cut off this head of ours, the which, we, ourselves, prefer keeping in its present situation. Shout again, sir, and if a pretty girl should answer the call, why—
Hush! my liege, I pray you. House!
He did, sir; but he has long been dead.
That is unlucky!
Never mind, he has left his daughter behind.
Who is master here now? Is his name the same as on that signboard?
His name? Oh, heaven! what can they want? In these sad times the presence of every stranger excites surprise and terror.
Speak, wench; his name, I say?
Silence, Richard, you are too stern; here, see how I’ll manage matters.
To be sure, noble sir; my master is landlord, his name is Smalltap Watch-and-learn.
There, Richard, you see what a little management does; and now, my beauty, you must give me one kiss of these ruby lips.
Oh dear, no, sir; my master would stop it out of my wages.
I’ll have a kiss, I swear
Hallo! what’s this I see? A strange man kissing my maid? That’s suspicious! I’m afraid he’s
no better than he should be! Why, Eunice ––
Get into the house, you huzzy! What do you think the Reverend Mr. Fast-and-pray Fireshovel
would say if he saw such goings on? Kissed by a man! A man who has done nothing for the house
too, hasn’t spent a penny in it yet. Oh, shameful! shameful!
Pray, sire, be more cautious.
Kissing your maid? Why, did I do so ?
Why, if you did not do so, it was one of the best imitations I ever saw.
Pray, do you keep this house?
No, no, the house keeps me; who are you that ask?
We are officers of the army of the Parliament.
Hey?—What? Why?—My good gracious!
And we would stay in your house till daybreak.
Till daybreak! Why, bless me! perhaps these are the men instead of t’others, and t’others are these; now I think of it, his kissing Eunice, was particularly suspicious?
Can you accommodate us?
Oh, dear yes! This way gentles.
Oh, no, no, no, not till the next time, for certain.
Because, if you do, I shall charge it in the bill, for certain.
I’m completely bothered, whether this is the king, or whether the other’s the king; or,
whether the other’s king, or whether this is the king—one thing is quite certain, they can’t
all four be kings. I must mind what I’m about here, or I shall lose the money. Oh, I only
wish I knew which was the king.
Silence! I say, silence! Hear me, my brethen, while I expound to you the axioms of the Reverend Master Barebones.
When our Colonel is here, we must be sober, ergo we don’t drink; when our Colonel is not here, we needn’t be sober, ergo ––
Ergo, we get drunk, and a very pretty, innocent amusement drinking is. It gives one such
celestial ideas.
Hallo! who can that be? If the Colonel does
If we do hide our cups, we shall hide ourselves; for we are in our cups, and if the Colonel finds us in our cups, he’ll hide us.
Ha! who are these men approaching?
No one could tell now that we were Colonel Vane’s men, we are all disguised—disguised in liquor.
Corporal Peter Praying-for-peace, you keep as much out of sight as possible, you are the most drunken of us all.
Calls me drunk; that’s an insult it’s an insult to say I’m drunk, and when I’m sober I’ll
resent it.
Stand back, I say.
The old gentleman’s tipsy.
The Colonel is not here.
Not here? I must have passed him on the road. I’ll instantly retrace my steps, and search every hovel wherein it is possible that he and this deluded girl may have sought shelter; and, if – if I do meet him, he shall find that though my arm is old, it still is strong enough to punish villany.
He’s roaring drunk; it’s disgraceful to see such a an old man in such a state.
Follow me, lads, the darkness of the night shall not detain us. Herbert Vane, look to
yourself!
Well, he’s been having a regular drinking bout, however.
Indeed! what can he want with us? Something important doubtless, for he is not given to vain words—his are goodly maxims; they strengthen and comfort my inward man.
Just what the brandy does for me.
Stand back, Corporal; Master Proudflesh is a keen observer, and will detect the state you are in.
If he does, tell him I’m in a religious transport!
Is it possible?
Possible? no doubt! You see this fellow is as tipsy as the other was?
’Tis possible, and true; at the “Traveller’s Rest” on the top of the cliff, lies he concealed.
You may command our aid.
Follow me, then. In a cause like this, all our hearts should join, for the man is our
country’s foe. Give me a weapon, I’ll prove that those who preach know how, likewise when
occasion calls, to strike.
I say, Sergeant, isn’t that fellow precious drunk?
Drunk?—Nonsense, ’tis you, sir, are drunk.
That’s an insult. I’ll wash it down.
Four of you men must accompany me—Hezekiel Humble-the-foe, Goliah Great-in-fight, Daniel
Drinkwater, and Simon Preach-the-truth.
And am I to go?
Yes; we shall start in a very little time, and so, I would advise you to humble the spirit in private for a few minutes before we go.
If I humble any spirit it will be the spirit of brandy.
Learn to be more abstemious, Peter; brandy is your greatest enemy, and therefore you ought to hate it.
No such thing; brandy is my greatest enemy, but then I ought to love it; because we are
told to love our enemies, you know.
I haven’t found out which is the king yet; I never was so puzzled before.
Come, mine host, here is wine; sit down, and be merry.
Merry! that’s suspicious everybody knows that Charles is fond of being merry.
This is but poor accommodation for an officer of the army of the Parliament.
An officer of the army of Parliament—that’s suspicious!
Never heed; after the hardships I have endured, the rudest resting place is welcome.
That’s the king! he’s alluding to his escape from Worcester.
That’s a very nice girl, master landlord.
That’s the king! Charles is fond of the petticoats.
I must scrape acquaintance with her.
Be prudent, I pray.
The other is telling him to be prudent—that’s the king.
Host, have you a separate apartment for my companion?
A separate apartment? He doesn’t like sleeping with his attendant—that’s the king. Your
majest—I—hem! —I mean, sir, no, I have only two rooms to let there is one.
Be quiet, sir, can’t you?
Then you’d better go away.
Wants to move off, no doubt.
Well, now, this is odd—odd! no, it’s even, for there’s four of them, four fugitives all
wanting to run away at daybreak. Well, friend, that’s your chamber.
Majesty! Alack, I look but little like majesty. Marry, the knave who said that majesty, deprived of its external, was nothing save “a jest,” was marvellously near the truth. I find the jest a sorry one; no matter, ’tis useless indulging such reflections.
Come, dearest Rosabelle, you must seek slumber’s reviving power, whilst I, at your chamber
door, watch that no harm approach you.
Well, I’ll be hanged if I know which is the king now! What’s to be done? I can’t help
thinking that the tall chap who was flirting with Eunice, must be the king. I’ll make sure of
him—I’ll settle his business!
Dark as a night watch! Can’t see a step before me, but that can’t be helped. The king is in
peril, and everything must be attempted to rescue him. Soldiers are now on their way from
Brighthelmstone to seize him. No time must be lost. I know he’s here, for I saw him whilst I
was watching through the casement. He’s gone now to his hammock.
A friend! Open the door.
Oh, damme, then break it
Who are you?
Your firm friend; your enemies are in pursuit, and will be here almost directly.
I will assist you to escape!
Generous friend!
Bring your companion, and I will conduct you by a short and easy path to the coast.
A thousand thanks!
Rosabelle, your father still pursues us, and is close
Oh, let us then hasten onward; I dare not meet my father’s angry eye.
Now, your honour, I know who you are, but I shall not mention your name, for fear somebody
else may hear; this way.
Hollo! there are the soldiers, now for the prize.
You have two fugitives here?
Hollo! another got hold of the secret? My five hundred pounds are melting down into two hundred and fifty, I’ll play a bold game—No, I have not!
Villain, ’tis false, I read it in your eye.
Which eye?
Beware! beware how you give them shelter!
Hollo! I’m getting into a mess! If they think I’m sheltering Charles Stuart, I shall get
hanged! I must be content with my two hundred and fifty. Well, sir, I’ll speak the truth, I
have got two fugitives here, and as I thought they seemed suspicious characters, I put them
under lock and key.
You acted rightly, and shall be rewarded,
Rewarded! of course, I shall expect two hundred and fifty pounds.
Produce them!
It’s all right! it’s him sure enough!
Girl? What a whopper!
That voice! you cannot be my daughter!
His daughter? The old fellow’s bewitched.
There’s some mistake here!
And a very lucky one it is for us.
The king!
It’s him!
I am in peril, my lord !
Sire, command me!
What seek you here?
I am in pursuit of a recreant daughter, who has fled from me, with a rebel to your Majesty’s crown.
Are your men here to be trusted?
I will answer for them with my life !
’Tis well; now observe, while Sedley and myself descend to the sands, do you with your attendants guard the summit of the path; once on the shore, I am safe, for there waits a boat to bear me from this coast of danger.
Sire, it shall be done.
Enough; come, Sedley, follow me.
Why, here’s my five hundred pounds melting away into nothing; all my money floating away from me, and I not able to help myself. What’s the reason that fool of a fellow doesn’t return with the soldiers? Talk of dividing the money with me indeed! why, we shall have no money to divide.
Villain! who were the men, that just now left this house? Speak quickly, or –
Don’t be rash! move that ugly weapon away; it may go off unawares, and then I shall lose my life as well as my money—one of them was Charles Stuart. Where are your men?
Some wait without, others I have despatched to the beach.
To the beach? There’s life in a muscle –we’ll have him yet. Oh, my five hundred pounds! I’m
all alive again! Come along—I know a near way to the sands—come along— Oh, my five hundred
pounds!
’Tis a rough road you are leading us.
True; but ’tis a near path and little frequented; we shall be upon the sands almost immediately, and when there, you may defy pursuit.
Thanks, thanks, for thy kindness!
Whither is that man leading us ?
To the coast, dearest; be not alarmed, although his manner is rough, ’tis honest, and I
feel that we may safely trust him.
There they go, we shall have them directly—Oh, my five hundred pounds!
Now, lads, keep close to me, and the moment yonder fugitives—reach the sands make them your prisoners. If they attempt to escape, shoot them.
No, no, I won’t have any shooting, no bloodshed. I’ve got religious scruples on that point.
Pish! pshaw!
But a thought strikes me, Master Proudflesh—will the government give as much for Charles Stuart dead, as for Charles Stuart alive?
Precisely the same.
Then fire away; my scruples are gone.
Forward, lads, stand by me now; and when the prize is taken, I’ll not forget the men who aided in the chase !
Yes, go on; let’s have the business over, and the money safe; but as it’s likely there will
be some shooting, why I’ll go last, for fear I should rob you of any portion of the honour
and renown.
It’s only persons that really are soldiers, that know the perils and privations of a
soldier’s life. Here was I obliged to leave a comfortable barracks, and march six long miles
in the dead of the night, just too as I was going to bed, and all to catch a runaway king;
forgot to bring my brandy too, that’s the worst part of the business. I’ve filled it
Yes, my lad, have a drop.
Corporal, here are three persons descending this steep path, they must be the parties we want?
Not a doubt of it, but stay, don’t seize them directly, wait till I give the signal; I
should like to know what they mean to do upon reaching the spot. I’ll take a drop of brandy
to hearten me.
It’s all right; we are unobserved– now to summon the boat.
The boat? What mean you?
Seize them!
No such thing, the king is found!
Peter Praying-for-peace!
Hey! that voice! th-a-t face! Oh, lord, I’ve taken my own Colonel prisoner. Here, you fellows, fall back; don’t you see it’s the Colonel?
Why, so it is; soldiers fall back.
The Colonel looks angry; I shall go, I’ve made a mistake here.
That’s right; look sharp after him, cos’ of the five hundred!
Who my companion is must remain a secret.
Ha!
That looks suspicious!
This is no time for secrecy. I must and will know who your companion is.
Right! quite right! we really must know, I say, my friend!
Clothed as you appear to be, sir, now with a semblance of authority, I suppose I must obey, however unwillingly. Know then that this person is very dear to me, this person is a girl.
A girl?
A girl?
A girl? Why, I get more like a fool every day, now I can’t tell a man from a woman!
I’ll be hanged if I know.
Ha! which way?
Yes, yes, he comes. Colonel Vane, I charge you, by your fidelity to the cause of the
people, to assist us in making these men prisoners.
Colonel, ’tis useless offering resistance. I thank your loyalty, but will not call for its exhibition when the price to be paid is blood; the fate that cannot be avoided, must be calmly met. Gentlemen, you may murder me as you did my father; but you shall at least find that I can endure death with as much firmness as he did.
I am glad to find you in this humour, for the axe and the scaffold awaits your majesty, and form your portion.
Yes, and the five hundred pounds will be my portion.
Oh, Herbert, if you love me, save the king from this dreadful fate. If you would ever call me wife, preserve him now, nor let these butchers sell his sacred life for filthy gold.
Heaven bless the women! they are always ready to plead the cause of the oppressed.
Soldiers, seize these men.
And those orders you will not have. Mark me, sir,
Hollo, hollo! what’s this? Oh, my five hundred!
Charles Stuart, you are free. The boat destined to bear you from England’s shores is, I perceive, approaching fast. Go, sir, and in your exile ponder over the important truth that Englishmen never will be the slaves of despotism.
Generous man, I thank thee.
It is, sir. I prove my fidelity to the Commonwealth by not allowing it to disgrace itself
by shedding the blood of a fallen foe. Hark ye, sir,
I’ll not be baulked yet.
That’s right—don’t.
Are you a good shot with a pistol?
I’ll try.
My father!
Ha, deceitful, treacherous girl!
Hold, sir—explain this mystery.
Sire, ’tis told in a few words. This girl, disregarding my commands, has fled from me with yonder renegade—yonder rebellious Roundhead—who—
Who possesses a heart which ennobles human nature!
Sire!
Colonel Vane has just now saved me from the fate which seemed my destiny, and I will not be ungrateful. He must wed your daughter, for he is worthy of her; nay, turn not away—the king commands—Charles Stuart entreats it.
Your majesty’s commands to me are law.
Enough! we thank you. Lady, this is your husband, and should fate ever place me on my
father’s throne, you shall find you are not forgotten.
Now be swift and sure; shoot him through the head.
I don’t like the job; but then the money!
And I am ready likewise—Farewell my country! Farewell, friends all! If I never see you again, be assured you have the first place in my grateful memory; but if in future years fortune befriends me better, you shall find that Charles Stuart will remember in Whitehall, the friends whom he now leaves on the coast of Sussex—Farewell!
Perish!
Ha! ha! ha! how merry his majesty is pleased to be this evening. This evening! marry! which
evening is it that his majesty is not pleased to be merry? He has indeed merited the title
which folks bestow on him of the Merry Monarch; and yet people say that before he was made
king he suffered greatly, especially during his escape from Worcester; but if that be the
case he has managed somehow or other to entirely dismiss the disagreeable remembrance. But I
must try and have a few minutes’ conversation with my deary before any one comes to interrupt
us.
Is that you, Lilac?
Yes, dear, it is; and that’s you, I see: and see is all I can, for the architect who built this old place was determined nobody outside should do more. Oh! Flora—I’m dying for a kiss.
A kiss! oh, you naughty boy. How dare you talk so.
Oh, I dare do a great deal more than that. The Duke of Buckingham has been kind enough to take me under his own especial care; I’m a pupil of his, and now I know exactly how women ought to be treated.
If you talk in such a shocking wicked manner, I’ll close the casement, and never speak to you again. If it be known that I ever allowed a man to talk to me so, I should be ruined; you will please to remember there is a great deal of difference between your master the king, and my mistress the queen.
Exactly so; one’s a man, and the other’s a woman.
That’s not what I mean; what I mean is, that while your master is a confirmed rake—my mistress is so pious, she’s only fit to be a nun.
A nun! Oh, I don’t think much of that. The Duke of Buckingham says a nun is as like another woman as two peas.
The Duke of Buckingham is a shocking—dreadful—dissipated man.
Hush! hush! don’t say a word against my tutor.
Indeed I will not; and now that I see how wicked you have become, I have done with you for
ever—farewell.
Hollo! why she’s gone! Why, how in the world did I manage this? I’m sure I acted exactly as
the duke told me.
Oh yes, I do mean it; and I shall do it too—unless you forgive me.
Oh, pray, give up such a shocking thought—and I will—nay do forgive you.
You won’t kill yourself, dear? will you?
Yes, I will. I’ll kill myself unless you promise to meet me in the moonlight to-night for a walk.
Oh, I can’t do that; the queen will want me.
Then I’ll kill myself.
Oh, gracious! somebody’s coming.
Why, she’s gone without consenting and I’ve got to kill myself.
Alone! Nobody with him.
Here’s Chrystal! He’s always watching me. Well, Chrystal, what do you want?
I wish he’d take himself off. How to get rid of him. Chrystal, my dear boy, did you ever notice a beautiful yonng maid of honour—named Flora?
Notice her? I adore her! and I think you do so too.
I? Oh dear no; I don’t care about her—oh la!
Why—will you?
Yes; but don’t tell anybody.
Well—and what of that?
What of that? Why, now’s your time to be sure. Run down there—make desperate love to her—and above all things tell her you are going to kill yourself.
Why, Lilac, if I was alone with her I durstn’t open my mouth—I could’nt speak a word—I’m sure I could’nt.
Just the way it was with me, before the Duke of Buckingham became my tutor. Now I know better—now I do know really how to court. Chrystal, my dear fellow, I’ll give you a bit of advice. Run down to the garden as fast as you can; directly you get to her—kiss her.
Kiss her? I could’nt do it.
Oh, nonsense! Nobody knows what he can do till he tries. If she’s very angry, kiss her; if she gets still more angry, kiss her again; and if then she gets seriously affronted, tell her, that unless she forgives you you’ll kill yourself.
Shall I try that?
To be sure to be sure. There, run along—run along.
A thousand thanks.
But there is one thing I must say—oh dear, somebody else coming.
How provoking it is to have one’s assignations broken upon in this manner—just as she was going to say something loving too—who is it coming? Why, my tutor, I declare, the Duke himself!
Give you good even, my lord!
Give you good even again, most worthy pupil. How have you fared since we met last?
Oh, capitally, thanks to the instructions I receive from your lordship.
Why, marry, it must be acknowledged you have greatly improved. When you first came to court, your rusticity was dreadful; but now the case is changed.
Yes, then I was in love with cousin Deborah.
True, and a queer sort of love that was; for it made you look awkward and babyish—made you sigh and moan— write sonnets to the moon—and cry, “Oh Deborah! Deborah! Deb!”
But now—
Now, you love as a man of fashion ought; now, you know what real Court love is. That love which makes a man gay—dissipates the wrinkles of care—dresses his face with smiles—animates his frame with grace elastic—and tips his tongue with the essential oil of wit.
Live in hopes, my pupil—live in hopes. If you improve as much during the next year, as you
have during the past, you will chance to become
Oh, yes. Such a lovely girl—so young—so interesting.
What’s her name?
Flora.
Oh—she—
Exactly so. Where is she to be found?
And pray, my lord, if I may be so bold, why do you want to know?
Hey—hem—hey! Oh, for no particular reason— simply for the sake of conversation—nothing more. But, pray, sir, if this Mistress Flora is pretty, and fit to be seen— why do you refuse to tell me where she is to be found?
Hey—oh—why really—I refused simply for the sake of conversation—nothing more.
I am most sorry to hear it, my lord—for people do say that you are not in the habit of
paying.
But this is a debt of honour, and must be attended to. But see, here comes my trusty agent. Come hither, good Mirondelle, and deliver your message.
Good even to your lordships.
I am not a lord, my friend.
I know it, my lord! but when I speak to a court gallant, I always say “my lord!” because it pleases them, my lord; it’s part of my policy, my lord! that’s the reason I called you a lord—my lord.
You are a shrewd fellow, I perceive.
You are right, he is so. In fact, I think there is only one in all the world more so.
And that of course is yourself.
Oh, really—consider my modesty. What’s the news, Mirondelle?
Am I to speak before this young lord?
I will retire.
By no means. Yes, sirrah! speak on—we’ll teach this young gallant how to carry on an amour, Buckingham fashion.
Then, my lord, know that I have discovered the abode of that woman, whom your grace admired so much at church last Sunday.
What! the lovely creature in the shabby blue mantle ?
Excellent friend! You are my best Mercury! This gold piece as a reward.
Here is one, my lord.
Thank you, Lilac, I am in your debt. Take this gold, Mirondelle—as a reward.
She is very poor.
So much the better—being pretty too.
She lives in Eton.
Eton?—the very place where Flora’s parents live.
Hey—did you say anything?
Nothing particular, my lord.
Hem! I wish people wouldn’t talk to themselves. Go on, Mirondelle.
I have seen and spoken to her, and arranged that your lordship shall visit her this evening.
Admirable Mirondelle !
In the capacity of a friend, to relieve her wants; of course your grace will improve the opportunity.
Of course my grace will
I will take care that her husband is out of the way.
Surpassing Mirondelle !
Your lordship may consider the game certain—I will conduct you to the house, myself.
Inimitable Mirondelle! you shall have a rich reward—another piece of gold upon the spot
shall be yours.
Can’t spare any more, my lord.
Oh, never mind, it does not matter at all—not at all. Mirondelle, I am in your debt,
Her name is Rosabelle!
Enough; hence—away.
Nay, my lord, I am yours to the antipodes.
Sire! I am yours to the lowest pit of Pandemonium.
Indeed Then there having no fancy for the spot myself, I leave you,
I am in his majesty’s debt.
Hold do not seek to excuse the action, I am not angry about it. I merely named it to remark that these verses eulogising us, are not so good as those in which you praised Cromwell,
Sire, your majesty must remember that poets always write better of fiction than of truth,
Go to go to! thou art ready witted—give me back the paper, we’ll read these said verses
again.
Sire, it is my duty to speak.
Your majesty must be told of this.
How to silence these busy statesmen? I have it.
We shall lack your presence.
But not for long—proceed.
Wasn’t she? Oh, then, perhaps I made a mistake— it’s very possible.
I think it was a mistake made on purpose.
What ho, Master Lovell! Stay you here.
Eton?
Eton?
Aye, gentlemen—Eton. For there, as we have been informed, there lives a lovely woman.
A lovely woman!
A lovely woman!
A lovely woman.
I hope it isn’t my Flora the angel.
I’m afraid it’s my Rosabelle—the devil!
You must accompany me.
Break my appointment with Flora?—Impossible !
Break my appointment with Rosabelle? Impracticable!
How now, gentles? You do not reply.
Your majesty’s commands are law to me.
Your majesty’s wishes are commands to me.
I’ll miss him in the streets.
I’ll lose him in the fog.
I’m told she is young, beautiful, and poor.
My Flora, for certain.
My Rosa, poz!
She is said to be very virtuous—and it is our intention to try a little scheme upon her, and see if for the sake of rigid virtue there is a woman who can resist the many temptations, both of menace and entreaty, with which a king is armed.
Your majesty is quite facetious.
Oh, quite so; but from experience, I have learnt that some extravagance is threatened when his majesty moralizes.
For the sake of virtue? Really, your majesty—ha, ha, ha! to think such a thing was possible. To be sure I might have thought so myself, before I became his Grace’s pupil, but now I know better.
Nay, gentlemen, I think you under-rate the sex; I entertain no doubt I could find a hundred such.
A hundred! your majesty overwhelms us; can you find one such?
I think I can—aye, and by noon to-morrow.
I’ll bet five hundred pounds you don’t.
And I will bet your majesty likewise.
And so, sire, will I.
Done—done done, gentlemen, with ye all; but remember, you accompany me in the adventure of to-night; give me your arm, Sedley, and as we pass the terrace, I will tell you my plan—trust me, sirs, I shall win the wager.
Your majesty must not be so certain. I think I shall win the wager.
But, my lord, if—if—if we should lose?
Why, then I shall be in his majesty’s debt.
And I shall do an impossibility for I shall lose more than I ever possessed; but there’s no
fear of losing; the only fear I have is that of losing my appointment with Flora, and to make
sure of that, I shall lose the king in the streets of Eton. Then, as to Chrystal, if he is
jealous—why, I wear a sword, and will give him the satisfaction of gentleman.
It’s only constables who know the onerous duties of the important office. Here am I, Sampson Tybbe, tailor by trade, compelled to be out of my comfortable home almost every night—parading the streets, or else sitting in the watch-house, smoking and drinking; and all for the good of the town.
But, Master Tybbe—
Silence; how dare you “but” in the presence of a constable.
I was only going to say—
Silence! I won’t have any idle chattering.
Master Tybbe—here—
Silence! Oh the important duties of a constable. —Here have I got to parade the streets—hear cases at the watch-house—quell all disturbances—lock up disorderlies— rebuke the noisy—keep the watchmen from going to sleep— eat three suppers and five breakfasts for the good of the public.
But master Tybbe ––
Silence! You do nothing but chatter—chatter— chatter—chatter. It’s only a night-constable that knows what it is to keep watchmen from chattering: they’re as talkative as women—as proud as peacocks—as stupid as pigs, and as sleepy as dormice.
Really, I must say
Silence! Oh dear!—dear!—what a wondrous deal has a constable to endure, to be sure. Up early and late —preserving order, and pickling offenders. Now, you men, go to your beats—and mind that you perform your duties with discretion—while I go to the watch-house, and eat my third supper, and take a gentle nap—all for the good of the town.
But there’s a great—
Silence! Don’t talk so; a talking man is a little doer—think—think, instead of talking.
There’s a great row going on—
Sil—Hey? — What?—A row?
Yes, there’s some drunken men a beating the watch next the bridge.
Then run –run to their assistance. You wretches to let your brothers be punished, and not to tell me of it before.
You wouldn’t let us speak—you –
Silence! Be off to the spot where the row is, and do your duty as Englishmen and watchmen.
Now attend to your instructions. This man, the woman’s husband, must be kept safely locked up until morning, and then let him go about his business.
Then, there’s no necessity to cut his throat?
Not the slightest! Those who cut throats sometimes get ropes put round their own in return.
Shall we go to the house and force him away?
By no means; he’s coming out in a minute; I heard him say so, as I was listening at the keyhole, and then you can seize him as he passes through this street. Is the cellar in which he is to be locked all ready for him?
It is.
No, no, this is some drunken sot, going from an ale-house.
I shall rob him?
No such thing; never shoot a tomtit when you can get a partridge, it’s bad policy.
I like being a Cavalier a vast deal better than being a Puritan soldier—there’s more fun in it; when I was a corporal I got nothing but cavalier treatment; but now that I’m a Cavalier I get corporal comforts.
Why, Corporal Peter Praying-for-peace, is that you?
No, it’s not me, I’m beside myself; I’m another
Principles be hanged—the times change and we change with them—that’s all! But, I say, my buck, who are you that ask all these questions? Why, it’s, as I live, it’s my comrade, Serjeant Mathew Smite-the-proud.
Hush! hush! don’t mention that name; I used to be a dreadful fellow of a Puritan, but now I’m a true and loyal subject.
But, I say, you’ve been changing
your principles, hey?
Principles be hanged! The times change, and we change with them—that’s all! There, can you walk steady now?
Walk steady? of course I can; my tumbling down just now was next to nothing. I’ll tell you how it was. You see the flesh conquered the spirit with regard to drinking first, and then the spirit conquered the flesh with regard to falling down afterwards. But, I say, isn’t there a tavern anywhere about here, where we can have a tankard together?
Yes, but I can’t go with you just at present—I’m busy!
Well, then, I’ll go and wait for you. Where’s the tavern?
I see two lights!
Nonsense, there’s only one.
Oh, I see the one you mean; it’s dancing and jigging about like mad.
Well, go there and wait for me.
I will; but don’t be long, or I shall come back to look for you.
No, no; don’t I tell you he will come this way?
I have given the king the slip, and left him to find his way as well as he can—I was in his debt, and now I think I have paid him.
Who goes there?
Who are you that ask?
The watchman!
That’s a lie! It’s Mirondelle!
Ah, my lord! I beg your lordship’s pardon.
How goes the plot?
Nothing could be better—That’s the cottage yonder, with the little garden before it
Honest—pshaw! Who ever heard of honest poverty?
Back, my lord; back all of ye; here comes the husband. We’ll take him out of the way, and
then the coast will be clear.
That man isn’t come yet; I wonder if he’s here still!
A very pretty adventure truly—lost my purse, lost my companions, and lost my way. I never
shall be able to discover the house of this lovely and virtuous fair one after all; confound
it, how dark the night is! neither a star above the earth, nor a lamp on it. Buckingham,
Sedley, and the page have all vanished, and egad! I’ve almost vanished myself, for the
darkness is so great, I cannot see a yard before me. Lost, too, in a neighbourhood that does
not bear the best of characters. Oh, Charles, Charles, thou art a fool for thy pains.
My mind is now fixed. I will no longer contemplate with apathy the hunger of my wife—no
longer listen with a breaking heart to the cries of my child for food. I will turn robber,
and by the sacrifice of my honour at least earn a meal for them.
Who art thou.
A desperate man! One who hath suffered himself, and seen those he loves best do so, until the drear sight has made him reckless. Money, I say !
Good friend, I would willingly serve you, but lack the means. I have lost my purse.
That paltry evasion shall not serve you. Money, or you perish !
On the honour of a gentleman, I have none.
Honour and gentleman are words which, to me, now hold no meaning, I would have food –food for my starving wife and child. Honour and gentleman are very pretty words, when a man hath a full purse, but very empty ones when the man dies for lack of bread. Money!
Nay, if it comes to this, although unarmed, I will not yield without a struggle.
The time has been when I could have wrestled with the best man in England, but now I am faint—I have not tasted food since yester morn.
Great heavens! is it possible?
’Tis true! but for myself I care not—it is for my wife!—my boy! It is their sufferings that
make me ready to curse the hour the sun first shone upon me. But come, sir,
Yes, I will follow him—I will visit the abode of this miserable man, and if his tale of
wretchedness be true, I will at least endeavour to assuage his sorrow.
It’s disgraceful! it’s disgraceful! Master, whatever you call yourself, to treat an old friend in this manner, first of all you cover me up in a cloak and then you lock me up in a cellar.
I’m very sorry!
Don’t talk to me about your sorrow, only think how sorry I am.
I’m not only sorry that I locked up you; but likewise that I didn’t lock up t’other man. It’s no part of my policy to make such mistakes as these.
I do beg at least that you won’t do so with me again.
Ah, what do I see? why here comes one along the right road, and as I verily think from the very house. Yes, yes, this is our man: upon him, lads, when I give the signal.
What, another fellow to be locked up in a coal-cellar? I’ll stay and see the fun, that will be some comfort.
Hush! here he is.
Oh, the onerous duties of a night constable! nobody can ever fancy what they are, unless that great and important functionary chooses to mention them. Here have I been examining four prisoners, putting three into gaol, and kicking the other out—blowing up the watchmen, and blowing a cloud of tobacco—exercising my judgment, and my teeth. Yes, I’ve been labouring to get through all my business, and nine tankards of ale, and all for the good of the town.
That’s him—now’s the time!
Alas, how dearly am I suffering for one act of disobedience! Oh, father, father, little did I dream you could ever have thus deserted me! My boy, my poor boy, surely he would relent, if could he but behold thee, nor visit thy mother’s fault on thee.
Mother!
Hush, hush! speak not, speak not, my loved one, for I cannot bear to hear thy cries for food, and pass them by as though I heard them not. Oh, merciful heaven! was I born to see my child perish, and thus too?
Where is my father?
Gone to win gold, boy—gone to commit robbery, — perhaps murder, that—that—he may buy thee food.
Mother, I am very hungry.
I know it, I know it, child; but I have nothing to give you. Ha! I hear footsteps—’tis he, ’tis he!—thy father brings us bread. My husband.
Ha! who are these?
Leave me, sir, whoever you be, leave me; carry these
I come to relieve your wants.
To feed my boy? Blessings on thee!
You shall have all the heart of woman can depict or desire, all the joys of life shall surround you, and I will be your slave!
This is either idle mockery, or scheming villany, I know not which; but yet I like thee not; hence leave me, sir, nor waste time so ungraciously as to spend it in insulting unprotected woman.
You had best accept my offer—I am a powerful man, and a nobleman to boot!
A nobleman? I doubt it; it is not every one who bears a title that is a nobleman. I scorn you and your offers.
Indeed! then force must be resorted to.
Force? oh, my husband, where art thou?
How’s this? my wife!
Part them!
Hold, hold, I say !
Perhaps so, master mechanic, in your workshop, surrounded by your menials, but here you are in better company.
If I may judge by your actions, I should doubt that; an honest mechanic surrounded by his
workmen is in much better company than lords in an outrage. I think I know my gentleman. I
would speak with you, sir.
Villain! dare you strike me.?
I beg your pardon! Ha! ha! ha! my Lord of Buckingham.
Known and jeered too by this knave—Take that, sir.
I hope, my lord, you are tolerably well this evening?
Quite well, sire—I thank you.
Be kind enough to pick up my hat.
Now that I look attentively at those friends of yours, Buckingham, they do not strike me as being of very gentlemanly appearance; rather more useful than ornamental, hey?
Exactly so, sire!
Be good enough to bid them leave the chamber, will you?
Most undoubtedly, sire—be off, you scoundrels !
With pleasure. Of course, madam, you will have perceived that this affair was nothing more than a jest; believe me, nothing more.
Sir, I am in your debt!
And now pray, guide me from this place; but first, sir, your name?
My name is Herbert Vane.
Herbert Vane! Surely I have heard that name before.
Is my wife.
The lord of Clayford’s daughter. But tell me why does not his lordship, who is wealthy, assist you?
He was opposed to our marriage, and though in compliance with the king’s commands he gave his consent to our union; yet from that moment we were forbidden to approach his presence; whilst my once ample fortunes were ruined by the Restoration.
Why not apply to the king?
I have done so—but vainly; the Duke of Buckingham is too good a courtier to allow the complaints of poor people to offend the ears of majesty.
I am in this gentleman’s debt again.
There is a good deal of truth in that remark. You know, my friend,
Exactly so; and I have repeatedly stated that I quite agreed with you—always excepting his
majesty.
But who are you who ask these questions?
Content you, for the present, with knowing that I am a friend. Take this ring, and when the
clock of the college tolls ten to-morrow morn, hie thee to Windsor Castle, and there enquire
for one Chrystal Joyce. For present wants
Only this, sir.
Your majesty is in my debt.
Take this purse.
Generous stranger! words cannot speak our gratitude—but oh! when death stands threatening
beside your pillow, may the remembrance of those you have saved hover like angels’ thoughts
around your couch, and soothe your anguish.
Was’nt that brandy good?
Capital—It’s filled me with spirit.
I say, how does that fellow seem to like his cellar?
Oh, as much as I did and that’s not at all! he’d have liked a little of my brandy, only I couldn’t spare any of it.
Ha! ha! I dare say the duke has found his wife complying.
I found the husband lying when I peeped in at him —yes, there he lay on the broad of his back; and all he kept saying was Tybbe! Tybbe! Tybbe!
Tybbe! what did he mean by that?
I don’t know; I didn’t happen to ask him—but I supposed that was his name; for some times he’d vary the cry a little bit, and then it was—“Oh, Sampson Tybbe! oh, Sampson Tybbe! where the devil are you, Sampson Tybbe!”
Oh, that’s not his name; his name is Vane, or something like it.
Is it? Well then all I can say is that it’s very odd he should call himself Tybbe.
See—who are these people?
I can’t think where he is –I haven’t seen him this last hour, and he’s wanted at the watch-house, it really is very odd what can have become of Master Sampson Tybbe.
Tybbe; do you hear that?
Ah! I do indeed. Who do you enquire for, good friends?
Master Sampson Tybbe, the night constable, he has been missing an hour past.
I’ve got the wrong man again,
Yes, and it’s very odd he neglects his duty thus.
You wouldn’t think so if you knew as much as I do. Come along, Peter, we must go and release the night constable—oh, dear! how angry the duke will be—I’ve not acted in this affair with my usual dexterity at all.
Hollo! why—that’s his voice.
Why, how the devil did he get out?
Oh, dear! I’ve just remembered that the last time I peeped at him, I forgot to bolt the door again,
That was bad policy.
Come along—come along—nobody knows what a deal a constable of the night suffers for the good of the public.
Well, really you have ––
Silence! I’m a martyr’d individual!
I was about to observe—
Silence! I’ve been cruelly used– when I get home, I shall cut myself out a suit of mourning; here, have I been seized upon in the public streets—cruelly gagged, and carried into a coal-cellar—and then contumaciously locked up—and all for the sake of the public, but only let me see the wretches that did it, that’s all.
Let’s be off,
Yes that still beautiful woman shall be the subject of my scheme; and I am greatly mistaken
if she wins not my wager for me.
Here he is – I’ve got him.
Hold him tight.
What means this. Villains! unhand me! You shall repent this—you shall find that—
Silence! I arrest you in the king’s name. You’re a well known bad character—you’re in the habit of locking up night constables in cellars—you wretch, you are. Bring him along.
Scoundrels, let me go.
Hal ha! ha!—how nicely we’ve escaped.
Ha! ha! ha!—yes, and some poor devil gone to quod instead of us.
’Twas odd enough, Sir Charles, I should meet with you.
Odd indeed, your grace? but what have you done with the king?
I’faith that’s more than I can tell you he was close by here a minute back. Odds fish, Master Mirondelle! is that you? you have but badly managed the affair to-night methinks.
Don’t name it, my lord; I’m quite ashamed of my own want of policy.
Considering how the affair has ended—I do not imagine myself to be in your debt.
Oh, dear! dear! what’s to be done—what’s to be done. Ah! my lord Buckingham, it greatly amazes me to see you standing idly here.
And why so, most worthy pupil?
Why, have you not heard the news?
No—no, what is’t—what is’t?
Well, only listen! They’ve taken the king to the watch-house.
They have! Then we must rescue him.
No time must be lost—the watch-house door is not yet closed.
Then we’ll storm the fortress. Away Mirondelle— collect your men.
The watch-house or victory!
That was a sad affair last night; sad in more senses than one: In the first place I lost my
appointment with Flora, and in the second place I got a good sound drubbing. I'm no match for
those Eton mechanics–my. elegant frame and polite demeanour are of no use whatever before
their hard hands and muscular arms; now, if they had been gentlemen, and could have used
gentlemanly weapons of war;
Love, light as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his soft wings, and in a moment flies.
Hollo! there she comes–I'll hide behind this statue, and find out what it is that brings
her here; but that's easy to guess– 'tis to see me.
I am very glad I did not keep my appointment last night–for the vanity of Lilac is becoming quite disagreeable.
I wish I could make out what she's saying.
And then his threat about killing himself–now I come to think of it, it was very ridiculous.
Can't hear a word–I'll venture a little nearer.
I wonder whether the person I wish to see will come here or not?
That's me!
I really think, after all, I love him.
I could have told you that.
There is something pleasing about him.
I should think there was indeed.
But perhaps his greatest fault is his exceeding bashfulness.
Bashfulness! I'm amazed! Well–well, Miss Flora, if you think me bashful now, I'll take good care and make you change your opinion the next time we're alone.
But that will wear off in time–and is really almost beautiful, when compared with the impudent audacity of others.
How highly she thinks of me.
Now, that Lilac Lovell for example!
Why, it's not me.
His effrontery becomes quite disgusting.
Oh, the devil!
And if he thinks women are to be caught by unblushing audacity he is grievously mistaken
with regard to the female heart. Ah! I hear somebody approaching,
Oh, good gracious! It's that cur, Chrystal.
Good morrow, pretty mistress Flora.
Good morrow, Chrystal.
I wish I dare speak to her.
What a pity it is, he's so modest.
It's–it's a nice morning, miss.
Ye–es. Are you afraid that I shall bite you, Chrystal, that you stand so far off?
She wants him to go to her.
Yes, miss–I mean no, miss.
It looks very like it, methinks.
He doesn't move he doesn't take the hint; there's a snipe for you.
I've a good mind to tell her that I love her. There's temerity.
I wish I could persuade the boy to talk, but he won't –there's timidity
Prefer such goose to me–there's taste.
Well, here goes, at any rate. Miss Flora.
He's going to say something at last. Yes, Chrystal.
Do you know that–that –
Oh, dear, dear! there's the bell–and I must go and see if I am wanted; it's twenty to one that I am not, in which case I will return directly.
And shall I wait here?
Yes, dear Chrystal–and when I come back you'll tell me what you were going to say.
Dear Chrystal! I'm sure she said dear Chrystal; and if she did say so, why then I can't believe that she loves Master Lilac half so well as he has the vanity to suppose.
Ahem –Sir–r–r!
Well, sir–r–r–r!
You have injured me in the most distressing manner –you have seduced from me the affections of her I love. Prepare to atone for it.
I deny the charge. I have seduced nobody–and if you allude to Mistress Flora, I can assure you, she thinks as little of you as I do.
You are a villain, sir!
You are a villain to say so.
Will you resign Flora?
To you?–never.
Then I demand the satisfaction of a gentleman.
With all my heart–come on.
Once more, I demand, will you resign Flora?
Never.
Don't be hasty in your decision–take time to consider of the consequences. I ask again, will you resign Flora?
And I reply, no.
You'll repent it, I'm a devil to fight; will you resign her?
No.
You will not?`
I will not.
Then I will.
So–so; this is your resolve, is it? well, I'm satisfied,
I'll be revenged!–but how? The little wretch is such a coward, he won't fight. Let's see
what the Duke of Buckingham says upon the subject.
I've lost myself among all these grand places–and I've a strong presentiment that if I am found wandering about here, I shall be thought guilty of trespass. I wish I could find the right way; the warder said straight before my nose, and I've followed my nose, but if, as my wife says, my nose is crooked, why that accounts for my mistaking the road. Oh, dear, dear, there's nobody knows what a night constable has to go through–here, he has to go wandering about gardens and castles, committing trespasses, and all sorts of things, and all for the good of the public. There's a young gentleman, I'll accost him–Sir!
Yes, sir. What can this funny old fellow want here?
Can you tell me which way I must take to get to the king?
And pray, sir, what may be your business with the king?
Why, I wish to lay before his majesty particulars of a most horrible atrocity committed last night in the town of Eton, when a number of drunken men, first of all locked the representative of the king–that's me! up in a coal–cellar, and afterwards proceeded to thrash the watchmen of the town in a manner truly alarming and gigantic. There was one young man who fought in a surprising manner; he wore a black velvet hat, and a blue feather–I should know that directly.
Indeed!
Yes, I should know him for certain, for he gave me a most audacious kick–and
Really, you flatter me.
That toe–I could almost swear to the toe; when 1 look at that toe it gives me such sensation; I declare if you had a black hat and a blue feather on, you'd be the picture of the fellow that kicked me–ah, and a most severe kick it was too; it was all over black and blue–at least, so my wife told me; but, as I justly say, there's nobody knows what a constable of the night has to go through–here he's obliged to quell a disturbance, and there he is obliged to make up a quarrel; now he's cuffed, now he's kicked–and all for the good of the public.
I must get this old fellow away as soon as possible;
Why not exactly; to tell you the truth, I want to see my daughter, whom I have not seen for nearly a week.
Indeed! and is she here?
Yes, she is an attendant upon her gracious majesty.
Indeed! what's her name?
Flora Tybbe.
Flora! Why this is Flora's father–now for revenge!
What's the matter.
I'm weeping for you.
For me! bless me, do I look very ill?
Unhappy–unfortunate Master Tybbe.
Oh, I feel so ill, all of a sudden. It's wonderful what a deal a night constable suffers –does my nose look blue?
No, it's rather reddish.
Then I'm all right, that's its natural hue.
Your daughter, sir.
My daughter, what of her?
She's had the great misfortune to fall in love with one of the king's pages–a dissipated rake, and he's fallen in love with her.
He shall never marry her–never. I've promised her to Simon Satin, the mercer of Reading, and he shall have her; she shall never marry this court gallant.
Why, I don't apprehend that there's much fear of that; you'll find he doesn't mean to marry her, he'll only bamboozle her, that's all.
I'll thrash him to a jelly.
That's right; thrash him to two jellies–see yonder, they come together.
I'll hide somewhere, and listen to what they are saying, and if I find what you say is correct–let them beware of the night constable–Sampson Tybbe.
Yes; but where can you hide? This is the king's private garden, and nobody is allowed to
wander through it without permission. Egad, 1 have it, you are dressed nearly the same as
that painted statue and if mounted on this vacant pedestal–yes, yes, that's it.
Well, and now I've got it, what am I to do with it?
Mount this pedestal–make yourself look like the other figure; place yourself in the same
attitude–quick–quick, here they come, and besides there may be other people see
Oh, dear! it's wonderful what a night constable has to go through.
Now strike a position.
Strike a physician–I shouldn't like to do it.
Strike position, I said –one like that statue I moved.
I don't know how to strike position–I'll strike that page if you like.
Put yourself into a situation like that statue, I say.
Oh, I know. There!
Left leg a little forward, right leg a little backward, head turned a little more.
My head is almost turned already.
There, that's very good; now stand quite still– listen to what they say, and as soon as you have found out the treachery of this vile page and thrashed him properly, you had better take the earliest opportunity of escaping. I must now attend to my duties in the castle–so much for master Chrystal; I think I have pretty well punished the little cowardly wretch without degrading myself by fighting.
Here's a situation for a night constable! I wish I could squat down like a tailor, there I should be at home; but to be mounted thus, on a pedestal, imitating a statue, and looking like a shepherd–and all for the good of the country.
Well I'm so glad, Chrystal, that you summoned courage enough to tell me you loved me.
Cockatrice!
Who spoke?
Did not you?
No.
Oh, it must have been fancy then. Do you know, Flora, I really love you dearly?
I can't stand this.
What is it you can't stand, dear?
I did not speak, dear.
You did not; why then, who could it be?
It was me!
Mercy! mercy! a ghost–a ghost!.
Mercy! mercy! a frightful ghost!
Here's a walking statue; help! help!
Here's a stone man talking; help! help!
Oh, you precious pair. Flora, you baggage! ain't you ashamed of yourself?
Why, it's pa. Why, pa!
Pa!
Why, pa, how came you here?
Never mind how I came here, but answer me this. Ain't you ashamed of your conduct, in falling in love with this young man?
La, no pa! there's no harm in it, is there?
Harm! harm! indeed–would you attempt to deceive me–me, a night constable?–harm; I should think there was, he never dreams of marrying you, he only means to bamboozle you.
It can't be? Chrystal dear, you don't mean to bamboozle me, do you?
Oh, no; give me only your permission, and I'll marry her to–morrow.
Oh, that lying young rascal, who put me up for a statue.
Now, father; what objections can you have?
Why, there's Simon Satin.
What, haven't yon heard of him? Why, he was married last week.
Married! there's another lying young rascal for you.
Come, my dear sir, give us your consent, and ––
Oh, gracious me! here's some of the Court coming –oh, father, if they see you here–
If they do, I know not what will become of you.
The king is so particular about keeping this garden select. Oh, what will you do?
What shall I do? You're a pretty baggage to be at Court and not be able to help your father out of a scrape, the only thing I can do is to go back to my pedestal.
Quick–quick then.
Pray be quick–stand quite still, they will not notice you, and as soon as they have passed
I will come and release you.
How happy we shall be!
Here's a nice mess I've got into! Well, only let me once get safe away from court, and see if ever I come back again. What a night constable has to endure–and all for the good of the country !
So, so, his majesty has got some woman upon whom
That's one of the fellows who beat me last night.
Hey? What did you say?
Good morrow to your majesty.
Give you good morrow again, my lord.
There's another on 'em!
Odd's fish! what do you mean?
Mean, sire? I mean nothing!
Nothing? Then pray, why did you say–There's another on 'em?
Your majesty, I perceive, is jesting; it was not I, but yourself, who uttered these words.
I? On my honour, 'twas not though. Here, Sedley!
Give us good counsel in this matter.
And prithee, what is the subject of the consideration?
There's another on 'em!
That's it, exactly how did you know?
Know what, sire?
Why know that we were speaking of the words you have just uttered?
Aye: the words "There's another on 'em."
Sire, it was not I who uttered the words–they seemed to me to be spoken by some one behind us.
Odd's fish! if I find any spy upon our actions concealed within these gardens, I'll cut his
legs off.
Sire, certainly towards the left, I have often noticed it.
So say I; but we are wrong, look at it.
Well, sire, you see it is as I have said?
Odd's fish! there is witchcraft here! Gentlemen, I swear to you the statue faced the other
way.
Has his sacred majesty been tippling this morning?
Upon my honour, I don't know.
Upon my honour, I think he has!
I see, gentlemen, you do not credit my assertion?
I credit everything your majesty says; but still I cannot understand how this stone statue
could move, solid as you see it is.
I have strange suspicions respecting that statue; but at least I have hit upon a mode to
solve them– your grace of Buckingham, and you, Sir Charles, pray notice this.
What's his majesty at now?
Now we will wager aught you like that from this distance, we will place a bullet in either eye of yonder shepherd.
I'll wager nothing more, sire, till the wager we have on hand be safe decided.
As you will; then without a wager, merely to display our skill, we will perform the task.
Mercy! mercy!
Ha! have we spies here? Is this a plot against our life?
A plot? die, fellow!
Wretch, prepare to perish!
Mercy! mercy! I'm not a spy, I'm a night constable–mercy! if you dare to kill me, I'll take you up for brawling in the streets last night.
Hold, friends! let us understand the truth. Speak, fellow, who and what are you?
My name is Sampson Tybbe, and I'm a tailor by trade, and I'm night constable of Eton.
Why did you come here?
I came here to tell the king what a row you, and you, and you, kicked up last night at
Eton, and how you seized
Why did you personate that statue?
Because I was afraid I was trespassing here, and wanted to avoid detection–Oh, here's a situation for a night constable!
My lord, I think we had better bribe this man to secrecy? – What think you, Sedley?
I quite agree with your majesty.
And so do I, if your majesty will be kind enough to bribe him, I shall esteem myself to be in your majesty's debt.
Harkye, sirrah! The punishment of being found in these gardens is very slight–it only consists of the loss of both ears, and being branded on the forehead!
Goodness! how few people there are know what a night constable has to go through–lose my precious ears!
Listen; but a person found concealed in these gardens is presumed to be guilty of treason, and accordingly not only loses his ears, but his head as well.
I'm melting away!
But these gentlemen, and myself, are willing to show mercy to you upon one condition.
Name it, only name it, anything, anything: you may have a jolly row whenever you like. I'm night constable –and I'll wink at it.
What does your majesty mean to require ?
His silence respecting last night.
Ask him to throw that little girl of his into the bargain.
Odd's fish, friend; we must not make such a request, seeing that we are the natural protector of our female subjects.
That's true; I acknowledge your majesty has a great many such subjects under your royal protection.
Mark me, Sampson Tybbe, never again mention the affair of last night, and this affair of the morning shall be overlooked.
Agreed, agreed, I willingly consent; only let me know when you want to have a row–and–
Begone! lose no time, lest I change my mind, and hang thee at once!
Sire, the persons you expect have arrived.
'Tis well; act as I have directed you. Come sirs , this way.
I shall win the wager, sire?
We have to see that; come to the castle.
Hang? I'm off – I'm off! I'll only just go and give my consent to my daughter's marriage
with that spruce young fellow, and then I'll be off. Oh, the duties of a night constable are
great indeed! Here I'm first to lose my ears, and then my head, and after all that, I'm to be
hanged! and all for the good of the country!
Old master Tybbe has given his consent to the marriage, and I am as happy as a prince. Now let Lilac bluster as he pleases, and boast of his conquests as he likes—I am satisfied with one true, one sincere and affectionate heart.
Where is she? where is this paragon of the world?
Did your grace speak?
I did; but you appear too much engrossed with your own thoughts to heed my words. What are you thinking of, sir?
Master Chrystal Joyce, a man accompanied by a woman and a child, desire to see you.
A woman, and a child! Why, Chrystal, my demure lad, what hast thou been about—hey?
I am amazed!
More amazed than gratified I should think.
Who can they be?
They send you this ring, sir.
This ring! admit them instantly. ’Tis the King’s private signet ring!
Indeed! then I know who they are, and I’m off— They are people that I am indebted to.
Good-bye, Chrystal, good-bye; take care of the lady, and rock the baby on your knee—Oh,
pretty dear! hey diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle—Ha! ha! ha!
I have his majesty’s commands which must be obeyed to the letter.
It is, and I am here by the wish of him who wears the ring I sent you.
He asked you to come?
He did, and he told me he was my friend, and bid me come hither at this hour that he might prove himself to be so.
Herbert, dear Herbert, I like not all this questioning — Let us return.
This looks like treachery. and I like it not, yet must I obey my instructions. You have said your name is Herbert Vane, now observe me, you formerly held the rank of Colonel in the army of the Rebel Parliament, and whilst doing so, fought against the king at Worcester—did you not ?
Why that question?
Vane, we are entrapped here your life is sought— I see the dreadful snare—let us begone!
Hold! you stir not—guard the door!
I will! I did belong to the army of the Parliament, and whilst doing so, I fought against the king at Worcester. But why—why was this done? Because the king sought to stretch his power to tyranny, because not content with governing freemen, he sought to reign over slaves. I will not be a slave, and therefore I fought against the king at Worcester. But mark me, sir, now that the contest is over—now that the liberty of my country is secure, the king has not a firmer adherent than I am!
You have not proved it by your actions.
I have proved it by my actions and that, not merely since Charles Stuart became
monarch here, but long before! nay, when after that battle of which you have spoken, he fled
to Normandy, mine was the hand that saved his life. that aided his escape, and this I speak
not out of paltry love of boast, but as a proof of that I have averred.
I know not how that may be; but this I do know, that I hold a warrant for your committal to the Tower, as charged with treason.
No, no; I cannot believe the king would thus repay an act of mercy.
’Tis too true!
Then come, Herbert, we will die together, and by our deaths of cold resignation, teach the
imperious monarch how little the unhappy value life. Come, sir, lead us to the prison.
Lady, you must remain here.
Here?—I!—Why?
Such are the king’s commands.
You do not mean, sir, that I am to be taken to the Tower, whilst my wife remains within the castle at Windsor?
Such are my instructions—you and the child go to the Tower.
The Lady Rosabelle remains here.
I see it all, fair sir, thou silken emissary of a noble monarch! May I crave one moment’s private converse with my wife, ere I give her up to your care?
Wife, I well remember that, years back, Charles ex- pressed great admiration of your beauty—that beauty time, and poverty, and sorrows have impaired; but enough still remains to excite his passions. I and your child are to be sent to the Tower, that you, defenceless, may fall an easy victim to the king.
Dishonour!—death sooner!
Death—death! that’s the word.
Is there no other way?
None—we are hemmed in, we cannot escape, in another minute they will tear us asunder for ever.
You have a dagger?
I have.
Then kill me. Strike—strike to my heart! Death sooner than dishonour—strike!
Hold! madman as you are—withdraw your murderous hand—my orders are imperative, and must be obeyed; you and the child go to the Tower, and the lady remains here; but observe me, sir, I know what ’tis to love, and loving, to fear for the loved one’s safety; and here I pledge myself, at every risk to preserve the honour of this lady.
Enough!—I thank you: I am now ready for my new dwelling place.
Herbert, my husband!—my boy!—my boy!
Mother, mother, do not leave me.
Have my orders been carefully obeyed?
Sire, they have!
Where is Buckingham?
Waiting your commands in the corridor.
And where is Chrystal Joyce?
Here, your majesty!
Where is the lovely Rosabelle?
She waits without, sire!
How bears she her husband’s misfortunes?
But ill, indeed; she is like one whom heavy sorrows bend to the earth.
Sir Charles, await our presence in yonder chamber; let some one summon the remainder of our
suite. Chrystal Joyce, conduct the lady hither.
Nay, nay, I am your friend; and, besides, you have another here.
And who is that?
Ah, the generous stranger of last night! Yes, yes, there is hope then.
Chrystal, leave us.
Oh, no, no!
And repays it by sending him and my helpless innocent child to the Tower.
That was the act of his ministers! I see, lady, you know nothing of Court life; the fact is, the king is but a puppet in the hands of his ministers, they pull the string and the puppet dances accordingly; but the worst of the matter is that should not the puppet’s dancing please the company, they pull it to pieces, or maybe tear its head off, while those who moved it escape scot free. Here, however, the king is powerful enough to rescind the action. Yes, lady Rosabelle, it is the intention of his majesty to release your husband from imprisonment, and in addition, as a proof of his gratitude, present him with the attainted barony and estates which formerly belonged to his father.
Am I dreaming? Do not jest with me!
I do not jest; but there is one condition attached to this.
A condition of what nature?
The king still continues to be a slave to your charms, and trusts his conduct in this instance will be rewarded by you with something warmer than mere gratitude, or friendship.
It is then as my husband thought; and my dishonour is to purchase his freedom! Now, sir, take my answer—hasten to his majesty, and tell him that the humble Rosabelle scorns offers such as those, and knows not which most to despise, the man who could harbour hopes so dishonourable, or the still meaner wretch who could carry the proposal.
Think well ere you decide! Remember none but the king can save your husband. He is accused of treason— the proofs are clear! – He will perish!
So let it be! Herbert Vane would scorn to live dishonoured! and so too would I!
Your child?
My child! what of him?
By your denial you seal his fate!
Ha! speak out! To the purpose what’s to be his doom?
No matter that; suffice it – you never more will behold him!
Man! torture me not thus!
You ask in vain! You know the only alternative.
Be wise in time; remember, kindness to aking is rarely unrewarded; he will make your husband a wealthy baron—your child shall possess his friendship.
And I shall forfeit all that makes life valuable.
Not so; that will not befal you; your kindness to the king shall be so well concealed that not the most intimate of his followers shall ever guess at it. Your husband shall never know what sacrifice it was that saved him; you and the king alone will know the truth.
Tempter, you madden me! But my child?
By heavens, she wavers! Your child shall be within your arms in less than an hour—Charles will give him a dukedom if you desire it. Come, fairest, be wise, and let me tell the king you have decided !
Farewell, then! I must despatch the warrant for the immediate execution of your husband.
There’s some strange mistake in this—I’m sure there is—you cannot be the wretch you would appear? Nature has stamped nobility upon your brows, and she does rarely err— my husband executed?
Aye, unless you consent.
My child !—my husband —Is he gone? Is this dread tempter gone?
No, I am here. Perhaps you change your mind.
No—never,
Then I leave you. Listen, lady—soon you will hear the cannon which announces your husband’s
doom.
He is gone; I have conquered; but any child—my husband—1 have condemned them to death! He
said the cannon would announce their doom! Oh, let me not wither beneath the horrid sound!
Master Lilac Lovell, have you got five hundred pounds to spare?
No, my lord; have you?
By the saints, no—people say I am witty—but I fear I have hardly wit enough to get out of this scrape.!!
I’m beginning to think, my lord, that your instructions are not always to be depended upon;
woman is a nobler creature than you appear inclined to give her credit for being; yes, now
that the loss of Flora, and the conduct of this fair
More sentiment—pshaw!
The king? oh, heavens! Hide me from him—let not his pernicious eye rest on the unfortunate
whom he has destroyed.
My lord of Buckingham—five hundred pounds?
And I am in the debt of this noble dame, who has taught me to feel how far inferior is gilded vice to ragged virtue!
Mercy, my liege! mercy!
And thus bestow her on a worthy and right trusty nobleman.
My child! my husband!
Approach, my lord, and receive your noble wife— noble—not merely because she wears a diadem—but because that diadem is won by virtue and by honour!
GUARDS. PAGES. LORDS. BUCK. R. GUARDS. LADIES. LORDS. PAGES. CHRYSTAL. LILAC. L. VANE. CHARLES. ROSA. CHILD.
Time of Representation of the Two Parts—1 Hour 35 Minutes.