Act 2 — SCENE II.
Reading edition
Enter Waiter.
Waiter. Sir, here is a person who desires to speak with you.
Beef. [Goes to the door and returns with a letter, which he opens. On perusing it his countenance becomes illuminated, and expands prodigiously.] Ah, my friend, what joy!
[Turning to Puddingfield.
227Pudd. What? tell me—let your Puddingfield partake it.
Beef. See here.
[Produces a printed paper.
Pudd. What?
[With impatience.
Beef. [In a significant tone.] A newspaper!
Pudd. Ah, what sayst thou?—A newspaper!
Beef. Yes, Puddingfield, and see here [shows it partially], from England.
Pudd. [With extreme earnestness.] Its name?
Beef. The Daily Advertiser.
Pudd. Oh, ecstasy!
Beef. [With a dignified severity.] Puddingfield, calm yourself—repress those transports—remember that you are a man.
Pudd. [After a pause, with suppressed emotion.] Well, I will be—I am calm—yet tell me, Beefington, does it contain any news?
Beef. Glorious news, my dear Puddingfield—the Barons are victorious—King John has been defeated—Magna Charta, that venerable immemorial inheritance of Britons, was signed last Friday was three weeks, the third of July, Old Style.
Pudd. I can scarce believe my ears—but let me satisfy my eyes—show me the paragraph.
Beef. Here it is, just above the advertisements.
Pudd. [Reads.] “The great demand for Packwood’s Razor Straps”—
Beef. Pshaw!—what, ever blundering!—you drive me from my patience. See here, at the head of the column.
Pudd. [Reads.]
“A hireling print, devoted to the court,
Has dared to question our veracity
228Respecting the events of yesterday;
But by to-day’s accounts, our information
Appears to have been perfectly correct.
The Charter of our Liberties received
The royal signature at five o’clock,
When messengers were instantly dispatched
To Cardinal Pandulfo; and their majesties,
After partaking of a cold collation,
Returned to Windsor.”—I am satisfied.
Beef. Yet here again—there are some further particulars [turns to another part of the paper]. “Extract of a letter from Egham—My dear friend, we are all here in high spirits—the interesting event which took place this morning at Runnymede, in the neighbourhood of this town”—
Pudd. Ah, Runnymede! enough—no more—my doubts are vanished—then are we free indeed!
Beef. I have, besides, a letter in my pocket from our friend, the immortal Bacon, who has been appointed Chancellor. Our outlawry is reversed!—What says my friend—shall we return by the next packet?
Pudd. Instantly, instantly!
Both. Liberty! Adelaide! revenge!
[Exeunt—Young Pottingen following and waving his hat, but obviously without much consciousness of the meaning of what has passed.
Scene changes to the outside of the Abbey.—A Summer’s Evening; Moonlight.
Companies of Austrian and Prussian Grenadiers march across the stage confusedly, as if returning from the Seven Years War.—Shouts and martial music.
The Abbey Gates are opened; the Monks are seen passing in procession, with the Prior at their head; the choir is heard chanting 229vespers.—After which a pause; then a bell is heard, as if ringing for supper; soon after, a noise of singing and jollity.
Enter from the Abbey, pushed out of the gates by the Porter, a Troubadour, with a bundle under his cloak, and a Lady under his arm; Troubadour seems much in liquor, but caresses the Female Minstrel.
Fem. Min. Trust me, Gieronimo, thou seemest melancholy. What hast thou got under thy cloak?
Trou. Pshaw! women will be inquiring. Melancholy! not I. I will sing thee a song, and the subject of it shall be the question—“What have I got under my cloak?” It is a riddle, Margaret—I learnt it of an almanac-maker at Gotha—if thou guessest it after the first stanza, thou shalt have never a drop for thy pains. Hear me—and, d’ye mark! twirl thy thingumbob while I sing.
Fem. Min. ’Tis a pretty tune, and hums dolefully.
[Plays on her balalaika.
Trou.
I bear a secret comfort here,[278]
[Putting his hand on the bundle.
A joy I’ll ne’er impart;
It is not wine, it is not beer,
But it consoles my heart.
230Fem. Min. [Interrupting him.] I’ll be hang’d if you don’t mean the bottle of cherry-brandy that you stole out of the vaults in the abbey cellar.
Trou. I mean!—Peace, wench; thou disturbest the current of my feelings—
[Fem. Min. attempts to lay hold on the bottle; Troubadour pushes her aside, and continues singing without interruption.
This cherry-bounce, this loved noyau,
My drink for ever be;
But, sweet my love, thy wish forego;
I’ll give no drop to thee!
[Both together.]
Trou. { This } cherry-bounce { this } loved noyau,
F. M. { That } { that }
Trou. { My } drink for ever be;
F. M. { Thy }
Trou. } But, sweet my love, { thy wish forgo!
F. M. } { one drop bestow,
Trou. { I } keep it all for { me!
F. M. { Nor } { thee!
[Exeunt struggling for the bottle, but without anger or animosity, the Fem. Min. appearing by degrees to obtain a superiority in the contest.
END OF ACT II.
231Act the Third—contains the éclaircissements and final arrangement between Casimere, Matilda, and Cecilia; which so nearly resemble the concluding act of Stella, that we forbear to lay it before our readers.