SCENE I.

BAYES and two Gentlemen.

Bayes. Gentlemen, because I would not have any two things alike in this play, the last act beginning with a witty scene of mirth, I make this to begin with a funeral.

Smi. And is that all your reason for it, Mr Bayes?

Bayes. No, sir, I have a precedent for it besides. A person of honour, and a scholar, brought in his funeral just so; and he was one (let me tell you) that knew as well what belonged to a funeral as any man in England, 'egad.

John. Nay, if that be so, you are safe. Bayes. 'Egad, but I have another device, a frolic, which I think yet better than all this; not for the plot or characters, (for, in my heroic plays, I make no difference as to those matters,) but for another contrivance.

Smi. What is that, I pray?

Bayes. Why, I have designed a conquest, that cannot possibly, 'egad, be acted in less than a whole week; and I'll speak a bold word,-it shall drum, trumpet, shout, and battle, 'egad, with any the most warlike tragedy we have, either ancient or modern.

John. Ay, marry, sir, there you say something. Smi. And pray, sir, how have you ordered this same frolic of yours?

Bayes. Faith, sir, by the rule of romance. For example: They divided their things into three, four, five, six, seven, eight, or as many tomes as they please; now, I would very fain know what should hinder me from doing the same with my things, if I please.

John. Nay, if you should not be a master of your own works, 'tis very hard.

Bayes. That is my sense. And then, sir, this contrivance of mine has something of the reason of a play in it too; for as every one makes you five acts to one play, what do I, but make five plays to one plot; by which means the auditors have every day a new thing.

John. Most admirably good, i'faith! and must certainly take, because it is not tedious.

Bayes. Ay, sir, I know that; there's the main point. And then, upon Saturday, to make a close of all, (for I ever begin upon a Monday,) I make you, sir, a sixth play, that sums up the whole matter to 'em, and all that, for fear they should have forgot it.

John. That consideration, Mr Bayes, indeed, I think will be very necessary.

Smi. And when comes in your share, pray, sir?

Bayes. The third week.

[Exeunt.

John. I'll vow you'll get a world of money. Bayes. Why, 'faith, a man must live; and if you don't thus pitch upon some new device, cgad, you'll never do't; for this age (take it o' my word) is somewhat hard to please. But there's one pretty odd passage in the last of these plays, which may be executed two several ways, wherein I'd have your opinion, gentlemen. John. What is't, sir?

Bayes. Why, sir, I make a male person to be in love with a female.

Smi. Do you mean that, Mr Bayes, for a new thing?

Bayes. Yes, sir, as I have ordered it. You shall hear. He having passionately loved her through my five whole plays, finding, at last, that she consents to his love, just after that his mother had appeared to him like a ghost, he kills himself. That's one way. The other is, that, she coming at last to love him with as violent a passion as he loved her, she kills herself. Now, my question is, which of these two persons should suffer upon this occasion?

John. By my troth, it is a very hard case to decide.

Bayes. The hardest in the world, ’egad, and has puzzled this pate very much. What say you, Mr Smith?

Smi. Why, truly, Mr Bayes, if it might stand with your justice, now, I would spare 'em both.

Bayes. 'Egad, and I think-ha-why, then, I'll make him hinder her from killing herself. Ay, it shall be so.-Come, come, bring in the funeral. Enter a Funeral, with the two Usurpers and At

tendants.

Lay it down there; no, no; here, sir. So:-now speak.

K. Ush. Set down the funeral pile, and let our grief Receive, from its embraces, some relief. K. Phy. Was't not unjust to ravish hence her breath,

And, in life's stead, to leave us nought but death?
The world discovers now its emptiness,
And, by her loss, demonstrates we have less.

Bayes. Is not this good language now? Is not that elevate? 'Tis my non ultra, 'egad. You must know they were both in love with her. Smi. With her! With whom? Bayes. Why, this is Lardella's funeral. Smi. Lardella! Ay, who is she?

Bayes. Why, sir, the sister of Drawcansir; a lady that was drowned at sea, and had a wave for her winding-sheet.

K. Ush. Lardella! O Lardella! from above, Behold the tragic issues of our love: Pity us, sinking under grief and pain, For thy being cast away upon the main.

Bayes. Look you now; you see I told you true. Smi. Ay, sir, and I thank you for it, very kindly. Bayes. Ay, egad, but you will not have patience; honest Mr-a-you will not have patience.

John. Pray, Mr Bayes, who is that Drawcansir? Bayes. Why, sir, a fierce hero, that frights his mistress, snubs up kings, baffles armies, and does what he will, without regard to numbers, good manners, or justice.

John. A very pretty character.

Smi. But, Mr Bayes, I thought your heroes had ever been men of great humanity and justice. Bayes. Yes, they have been so; but, for my part, I prefer that one quality of singly beating of whole armies above all your moral virtues put together, 'egad. You shall see him come in presently.Zookers! why don't you read the paper? [To the Players.

K. Phy. O! cry you mercy. [Goes to take the paper. Bayes. Pish! Nay, you are such a fumbler. Come, I'll read it myself.

[Takes a paper from off the coffin. Stay, it's an ill hand; I must use my spectacles. This, now, is a copy of verses, which I make Lardella compose, just as she is dying, with design to have it pinned upon her coffin, and so read by one of the usurpers, who is her cousin.

Smi. A very shrewd design that, upon my word, Mr Bayes.

Bayes. And what do you think now, I fancy her to make love like, here, in the paper?

Smi. Like a woman: What should she make love like?

Smi. [After a pause.] Admirable! Bayes. At night, into your bosom I will creep, And buz but softly if you chance to sleep; Yet in your dreams I'll pass sweeping by, And then both hum and buz before your eye.

John. By my troth, that's a very great promise. Smi. Yes, and a most extraordinary comfort to boot.

Bayes. Your bed of love from dangers I will
free,

But most from love of any future bee:
And when with pity your heart-strings shall crack,
With empty arms I'll bear you on my back.

Smi. A pick-a-pack! a pick-a-pack!

Bayes. Ay, 'egad; but is not that tuant now? ha! Is it not tuant ?-Here's the end. Then at your birth of immortality, Like any winged archer, hence I'll fly, And teach you your first fluttering in the sky. John. O, rare! This is the most natural, refined fancy that ever I heard, I'll swear.

Bayes. Yes, I think, for a dead person, it is a good enough way of making love; for, being divested of her terrestrial part, and all that, she is only capable of these little, pretty, amorous designs, that are innocent and yet passionate-Come, draw your swords.

K. Phy. Come, sword, come sheath thyself within this breast,

Which only in Lardella's tomb can rest.

K. Ush. Come, dagger come, and penetrate this heart,

Which cannot from Lardella's love depart.

Enter PALLAS.

Pal. Hold, stop your murdering hands, At Pallas's commands:

For the supposed dead, O kings,

Smi. What then? like a man?
Bayes. No, sir; like a humble-bee.

Smi. I confess, that I should not have fancied. Bayes. It may be so, sir; but it is, though, in order to the opinion of some of your ancient philosophers, who held the transmigration of the soul. Smi. Very fine.

Bayes. I'll read the title:-"To my dear Cous. K. Phy

Smi. That's a little too familiar with a king, though, sir, by your favour, for a humble-bee.

Bayes. Mr Smith, in other things I grant your knowledge may be above me; but as for poetry, give me leave to say, I understand that better; it has been longer my practice; it has, indeed, sir. Smi. Your servant, sir. Bayes. Pray mark it.

[Reads.

Since death my earthly part will thus remove,
I'll come a humble-bee to your chaste love;
With silent wings I'll follow you, dear cous,
Or else before you in the sun-beams buz;
And when to melancholy groves you come,
An airy ghost, you'll know me by my hum;
For sound, being air, a ghost does well become.

Lardella lives; I did but try
If princes for their loves could die.
Such celestial constancy
Shall by the gods rewarded be;
And from these funeral obsequies
A nuptial banquet shall arise.

[The coffin opens, and a banquet is discovered. Bayes. So:-take away the coffin.-Now it's out. This is the very funeral of the fair person which Volscius sent word was dead, and Pallas, you see, has turned it into a banquet.

Smi. Well, but where is the banquet?

Bayes. Nay, look you, sir, we must first have a dance, for joy that Lardella is not dead. Pray, sir, give me leave to bring in my things properly, at least.

Smi. That, indeed, I had forgot: I ask your pardon.

Bayes. O! d'ye so, sir? I am glad you will confess yourself once in an error, Mr Smith,

{Dance

K. Ush. Resplendent Pallas, we in thee do find The fiercest beauty, and a fiercer mind; And since to thee Lardella's life we owe, We'll supple statues in thy temple grow,

K. Phy. Well, since alive Lardella's found, Let in full bowls her health go round.

The two Usurpers take each of them a bowl in
their hands.

K Ush. But where's the wine?
Pal. That shall be mine.
Lo, from this conquering lance
Does flow the purest wine of France:

[Fills the bowls out of her lance.

And, to appease your hunger, I
Have in my helmet brought a pye:
Lastly, to bear a part with these,
Behold a buckler made of cheese.

[Vanish PALLAS. Bayes. There's the banquet. Are you satisfied now, sir? John. By my troth, now, that is new, and more than I expected.

Bayes. Yes, I knew this would please you; for the chief art in poetry is, to elevate your expectation, and then bring you off some extraordinary way.

Enter DRAWCANSIR.

K. Phy. What man is this, that dares disturb our feast?

Draw. He that dares drink, and for that drink dares die,

And, knowing this, dares yet drink on, am I.

John. That is, Mr Bayes, as much as to say, that though he would rather die than not drink, yet he would fain drink, for all that, too.

Bayes. Right; that's the conceit on't. John. 'Tis a marvellous good one, I swear. Bayes. Now, there are some critics that have advised me to put out the second dure, and print must in the place on't; but, 'egad, I think 'tis better thus, a great deal.

John. Whoo! a thousand times.
Bayes. Go on then.

K. Ush, Sir, if you please, we should be glad to know

How long you here will stay, how soon you'll go. Bayes. Is not that, now, like a well-bred person, 'egad? So modest, so gent!

Smi. O! very like.

Draw. You shall not know how long I here will stay;

But you shall know I'll take your bowls away. [Snatches the bowls out of the Kings' hands, and drinks them off.

Smi. But, Mr Bayes, is that, too, modest and gent?

Bayes. No, 'egad, sir, but 'tis great.
K. Ush. Though, brother, this grum stranger
be a clown,

He'll leave us, sure, a little to gulp down.

Draw. Whoe'er to gulp one drop of this dares think,

I'll stare away his very power to drink.

[The two Kings sneak off the stage, with their
Attendants.

I drink, I huff, I strut, look big, and stare;
And all this I can do, because I dare.

[Exit.

Smi. I

suppose, Mr Bayes, this is the fierce hero you spoke of.

Bayes. Yes; but this is nothing: you shall see him, in the last act, win above a dozen battles, one after another, 'egad, as fast's they can possibly come upon the stage.

John. That will be a sight worth the seeing, indeed.

Smi. But, pray, Mr Bayes, why do you make the kings let him use them so scurvily?

Bayes. Pho! that is to raise the character of Drawcansir.

John. O' my word, that was well thought on. Bayes. Now, sirs, I'll shew you a scene indeed, or rather, indeed, the scene of scenes: 'tis an heroic scene.

Smi. And pray, sir, what's your design in this scene?

Bayes. Why, sir, my design is gilded truncheons, forced conceit, smooth verse, and a rant: in fine, if this scene do not take, 'egad, I'll write no more. -Come, come in Mr-a-nay, come in as many as you can.-Gentlemen, I must desire you to remove a little, for I must fill the stage.

Smi. Why fill the stage?

Bayes. O, sir, because your heroic verse never sounds well but when the stage is full.

SCENE II.

Enter Prince PRETTYMAN and Prince VOL

SCIUS.

Nay, hold, hold; pray, by your leave a little. Look you, sir; the drift of this scene is somewhat more than ordinary; for I make them both fall out, because they are not in love with the same woman.

Smi. Not in love! you mean, I suppose, because they are in love, Mr Bayes.

Bayes. No, sir, I say, not in love: there's a new conceit for you.-Now speak.

Pret. Since Fate, Prince Volscius, now has
found the way

For our so long'd-for meeting here this day,
Lend thy attention to my grand concern.

Vol. I gladly would that story from thee learn.
But thou to love dost, Prettyman, incline;
Yet love in thy breast is not love in mine.
Bayes. Antithesis! Thine and mine!
Pret. Since love itself's the same, why should
it be

Differing in you from what it is in me?
Bayes. Reasoning! 'Egad, I love reasoning in

verse.

Vol. Love takes, camelion like, a various dye From every plant on which itself does lie. Bayes. Simile!

Pret. Let not thy love the course of nature fright;

Nature does most in harmony delight.

Vol. How weak a deity would Nature prove, Contending with the powerful god of love? Bayes. There's a great verse!

Vol. If incense thou wilt offer at the shrine Of mighty Love, burn it to none but mine:

Pret. Behold, with wonder, yonder comes from far

A god-like cloud, and a triumphant car,
In which our two right kings sit one by one,
With virgins' vests and laurel garlands on.

K. Ush. Then, brother Phys, 'tis time we should be gone. [The two Usurpers steal out of the throne, and go away.

Bayes. Look you now, did not I tell you that this would be as easy a change as the other?

Smi. Yes, faith, you did so, tho', I confess, I could not believe you; but you have brought it about I see. [The two right Kings of Brentford

descend in the clouds, singing, in white gar ments, and three Fiddlers sitting before them in green.

Bayes. Now, because the two right kings descend from above, I make 'em sing to the tune and style of our modern spirits.

1st King. Haste, brother king, we are sent from

toes.

1st King. And we'll fall with our plate In an olio of hate.

2d King. But, now supper's done, the servitors try,

Like soldiers, to storm a whole half-moon pye. 1st King. They gather, they gather hot custards in spoons: But, alas! I must leave these half-moons, And repair to my trusty dragoons.

2d King. O! stay, for you need not as yet go astray;

The tide, like a friend, has brought ships in our

2d King. Now mortals, that hear How we tilt and career, With wonder, will fear

The event of such things as shall never appear. 1st King. Stay you to fulfil what the gods have decreed.

2d King. Then call me to help you, if there shall be need.

1st King. So firmly resolv'd is a true Brentford king

To save the distressed, and help to 'em bring, That, ere a full pot of good ale you can swallow, He's here, with a whoop, and gone, with a halloo. [BAYES fillips his finger, and sings after them. Bayes. He's here, with a whoop, and gone, with a halloo. This, sir, you must know, I thought once to have brought in with a conjuror.

John. Ay, that would have been better. Bayes. No, faith, not when you consider it ; for thus it is more compendious, and does the thing every whit as well."

Smi. Thing! what thing?

Bayes. Why, bring 'em down again into the throne, sir :- What thing would you have?

Smi. Well, but methinks the sense of this song is not very plain.

Bayes. Plain! Why, did you ever hear any people in the clouds speak plain? They must be all for flight of fancy, at its full range, without the least check or controul upon it. When once you tie up sprites and people in clouds to speak plain, you spoil all.

Smi. Bless me, what a monster's this!

[The two Kings light out of the clouds, and step into the throne.

1st King. Come, now to serious council we'll advance.

2d King. I do agree; but first, let's have a dance.

Bayes. Right. You did that very well, Mr Cartwright. But first, let's have a dance! Pray remember that; be sure you do it always just so; for it must be done as if it were the effect of thought and premeditation.-But first, let's have a dance! Pray remember that.

Smi. Well, I can hold no longer; I must gag this rogue; there's no enduring of him.

John. No, pr'ythee make use of thy patience a little longer; let's see the end of him now. [Dance a grand dance. Bayes. This, now, is an ancient dance, of right belonging to the kings of Brentford, but since derived, with a little alteration, to the inns of court.

An Alarum. Enter two Heralds.

1st King. What saucy groom molests our privacies?

1st Her. The army's at the door, and, in disguise, Desires a word with both your majesties.

2d Her. Having from Knightsbridge hither march'd by stealth.

2d King. Bid 'em attend a while, and drink our health.

Smi. How, Mr Bayes? the army in disguise!