Tilb. [To Confidant.] The cue, ma’am, if you please.
| “Con. | It is not meet that he should find you thus. |
| Tilb. | Thou counsel’st right; but ’tis no easy task |
| For barefaced grief to wear a mask of joy. |
Enter Governor.
| Gov. | How’s this!—in tears?—O Tilburina, shame! |
| Is this a time for maudling tenderness, | |
| And Cupid’s baby woes?—Hast thou not heard | |
| That haughty Spain’s pope-consecrated fleet | |
| Advances to our shores, while England’s fate, | |
| Like a clipp’d guinea, trembles in the scale? |
| Tilb. | Then is the crisis of my fate at hand! |
| I see the fleets approach—I see—” |
Puff. Now, pray. gentlemen, mind. This is one of the most useful figures we tragedy writers have, by which a hero or heroine, in consideration of their being often obliged to overlook things that are on the stage, is allowed to hear and see a number of things that are not.
Sneer. Yes; a kind of poetical second-sight!
Puff. Yes.—Now then, madam.
| “Tilb. | I see their decks |
| Are clear’d!—I see the signal made! | |
| The line is form’d!—a cable’s length asunder! | |
| I see the frigates station’d in the rear; | |
| And now, I hear the thunder of the guns! | |
| I hear the victor’s shouts—I also hear | |
| The vanquish’d groan!—and now ’tis smoke—and now | |
| I see the loose sails shiver in the wind! | |
| I see—I see—what soon you’ll see— |
| Gov. | Hold, daughter! peace! this love hath turn’d thy brain: |
| The Spanish fleet thou canst not see—because | |
| —It is not yet in sight!” |
Dang. Egad, though, the governor seems to make no allowance for this poetical figure you talk of.
Puff. No, a plain matter-of-fact man;—that’s his character.
| “Tilb. | But will you then refuse his offer? |
| Gov. | I must—I will—I can—I ought—I do. |
| Tilb. | Think what a noble price. |
| Gov. | No more—you urge in vain. |
| Tilb. | His liberty is all he asks.” |
Sneer. All who asks, Mr. Puff? Who is—
Puff. Egad. sir, I can’t tell! Here has been such cutting and slashing, I don’t know where they have got to myself.
Tilb. Indeed, sir, you will find it will connect very well.
“—And your reward secure.”
Puff. Oh, if they hadn’t been so devilish free with their cutting here, you would have found that Don Whiskerandos has been tampering for his liberty, and has persuaded Tilburina to make this proposal to her father. And now, pray observe the conciseness with which the argument is conducted. Egad, the pro and con goes as smart as hits in a fencing-match. It is indeed a sort of small-sword-logic, which we have borrowed from the French.
| Tilb. … | A retreat in Spain! |
| Gov. … | Outlawry here! |
| Tilb. … | Your daughter’s prayer! |
| Gov. … | Your father’s oath! |
| Tilb. … | My lover! |
| Gov. … | My country! |
| Tilb. … | Tilburina! |
| Gov. … | England! |
| Tilb. … | A title! |
| Gov. … | Honour! |
| Tilb. … | A pension! |
| Gov. … | Conscience! |
| Tilb. … | A thousand pounds! |
| Gov. … | Ha! thou hast touch’d me nearly!” |
Puff. There you see—she threw in Tilburina. Quick, parry quarte with England! Ha! thrust in tierce a title!—parried by honour. Ha! a pension over the arm!—put by by conscience. Then flankonade with a thousand pounds—and a palpable hit, egad!
| “Tilb. | Canst thou— |
| Reject the suppliant, and the daughter too? |
| Gov. | No more; I would not hear thee plead in vain: |
| The father softens—but the governor | |
| Is fix’d! |
[Exit.”
Dang. Ay, that antithesis of persons is a most established figure.
| “Tilb. | ’Tis well,—hence then, fond hopes,—fond passion hence; |
| Duty, behold I am all over thine— | |
| Whisk. | [Without.] Where is my love—my— |
| Tilb. | Ha! |
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