_Puff_. No, sir–that’s not it–once more, if you please. _Whisk_. I wish, sir, you would practise this without me–I can’t stay dying here all night.
_Puff_. Very well; we’ll go over it by-and-by.–[_Exit_ WHISKERANDOS.] I must humour these gentlemen! “_Beef_. Farewell, brave Spaniard! and when next–” _Puff_. Dear sir, you needn’t speak that speech, as the body has walked off.
_Beef_. That’s true, sir–then I’ll join the fleet. _Puff_. If you please.–[Exit BEEFEATER.] Now, who comes on? “_Enter_ GOVERNOR, _with his hair properly disordered_. _Gov_. A hemisphere of evil planets reign! And every planet sheds contagious frenzy! My Spanish prisoner is slain! my daughter, Meeting the dead corse borne along, has gone Distract! [_A loud flourish of trumpets_.] But hark! I am summoned to the fort: Perhaps the fleets have met! amazing crisis! O Tilburina! from thy aged father’s beard Thou’st pluck’d the few brown hairs which time had left! [Exit.]” _Sneer_. Poor gentleman!
_Puff_. Yes–and no one to blame but his daughter! _Dang_. And the planets–
_Puff_. True.–Now enter Tilburina! _Sneer._ Egad, the business comes on quick here. _Puff._ Yes, sir–now she comes in stark mad in white satin. _Sneer._ Why in white satin?
_Puff._ O Lord, sir–when a heroine goes mad, she always goes into white satin.–Don’t she, Dangle? _Dang._ Always–it’s a rule.
_Puff._ Yes–here it is–[_Looking at the book_.] “Enter Tilburina stark mad in white satin, and her confidant stark mad in white linen.”
“_Enter_ TILBURINA _and_ CONFIDANT, _mad, according to custom_.”
_Sneer._ But, what the deuce! is the confidant to be mad too?
_Puff._ To be sure she is: the confidant is always to do whatever her mistress does; weep when she weeps, smile when she smiles, go mad when she goes mad.–Now, Madam Confidant–but keep your madness in the background, if you please. “_Tilb._ The wind whistles–the moon rises–see, They have kill’d my squirrel in his cage: Is this a grasshopper?–Ha! no; it is my Whiskerandos–you shall not keep him–I know you have him in your pocket–An oyster may be cross’d in love!–who says A whale’s a bird?–Ha! did you call, my love?–He’s here! he’s there!–He’s everywhere! Ah me! he’s nowhere! [_Exit_.]” _Puff._ There, do you ever desire to see anybody madder than that?
_Sneer._ Never, while I live!
_Puff._ You observed how she mangled the metre? _Dang._ Yes,–egad, it was the first thing made me suspect she was out of her senses!
_Sneer._ And pray what becomes of her? _Puff._ She is gone to throw herself into the sea, to be sure–and that brings us at once to the scene of action, and so to my catastrophe–my sea-fight, I mean. _Sneer._ What, you bring that in at last? _Puff._ Yes, yes–you know my play is called _The Spanish Armada_; otherwise, egad, I have no occasion for the battle at all.–Now then for my magnificence!–my battle!–my noise!–and my procession!–You are all ready?
_Und. Promp_. [_Within._] Yes, sir. _Puff_. Is the Thames dressed?
“_Enter_ THAMES _with two_ ATTENDANTS.” _Thames_. Here I am, sir.
_Puff_. Very well, indeed!–See, gentlemen, there’s a river for you!–This is blending a little of the masque with my tragedy–a new fancy, you know–and very useful in my case; for as there must be a procession, I suppose Thames, and all his tributary rivers, to compliment Britannia with a fête in honour of the victory.
_Sneer_. But pray, who are these gentlemen in green with him?
_Puff_. Those?–those are his banks. _Sneer_. His banks?
_Puff_. Yes, one crowned with alders, and the other with a villa!–you take the allusions?–But hey! what the plague!–you have got both your banks on one side.–Here, sir, come round.– Ever while you live, Thames, go between your banks.–[_Bell rings._] There; so! now for’t!–Stand aside, my dear friends!–Away, Thames!
[_Exit_ THAMES _between his banks._] [_Flourish of drums, trumpets, cannon, &c., &’c. Scene changes to the sea–the fleets engage–the music plays–“Britons strike home.”–Spanish fleet destroyed by fire-ships, &c.–English fleet advances–music plays, “Rule Britannia.”–The procession of all the English rivers, and their tributaries, with their emblems, &c., begins with Handel’s water music, ends with a chorus to the march in Judas’ Maccabaeus.–During this scene,_ PUFF _directs and applauds everything–then_
_Puff_. Well, pretty well–but not quite perfect. So, ladies and gentlemen, if you please, we’ll rehearse this piece again to-morrow. [_Curtain drops._]
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