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_ ACT III
[SCENE.--An Apartment of State in Woodvil Hall--Cavaliers drinking.]
[JOHN WOODVIL, LOVEL, GRAY, and four more.]
JOHN
More mirth, I beseech you, gentlemen--Mr. Gray, you are not merry.--
GRAY
More wine, say I, and mirth shall ensue in course. What! we have not yet above three half-pints a man to answer for. Brevity is the soul of drinking, as of wit. Despatch, I say. More wine. (_Fills._)
FIRST GENTLEMAN
I entreat you, let there be some order, some method, in our drinkings. I love to lose my reason with my eyes open, to commit the deed of drunkenness with forethought and deliberation. I love to feel the fumes of the liquor gathering here, like clouds.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
And I am for plunging into madness at once. Damn order, and method, and steps, and degrees, that he speaks of. Let confusion have her legitimate work.
LOVEL
I marvel why the poets, who, of all men, methinks, should possess the hottest livers, and most empyreal fancies, should affect to see such virtues in cold water.
GRAY
Virtue in cold water! ha! ha! ha!--
JOHN
Because your poet-born hath an internal wine, richer than lippara or canaries, yet uncrushed from any grapes of earth, unpressed in mortal wine-presses.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
What may be the name of this wine?
JOHN
It hath as many names as qualities. It is denominated indifferently, wit, conceit, invention, inspiration, but its most royal and comprehensive name is _fancy_.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
And where keeps he this sovereign liquor?
JOHN
Its cellars are in the brain, whence your true poet deriveth intoxication at will; while his animal spirits, catching a pride from the quality and neighbourhood of their noble relative, the brain, refuse to be sustained by wines and fermentations of earth.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
But is your poet-born alway tipsy with this liquor?
JOHN
He hath his stoopings and reposes; but his proper
element is the sky, and in the suburbs of the empyrean.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
Is your wine-intellectual so exquisite? henceforth, I, a man of plain conceit, will, in all humility, content my mind with canaries.
FOURTH GENTLEMAN
I am for a song or a catch. When will the catches
come on, the sweet wicked catches?
JOHN
They cannot be introduced with propriety before midnight. Every man must commit his twenty bumpers first. We are not yet well roused. Frank Lovel, the glass stands with you.
LOVEL
Gentlemen, the Duke. (_Fills_.)
ALL
The Duke. (_They drink_.)
GRAY
Can any tell, why his Grace, being a Papist--
JOHN
Pshaw! we will have no questions of state now. Is not this
his Majesty's birth-day?
GRAY
What follows?
JOHN
That every man should sing, and be joyful, and ask no questions.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Damn politics, they spoil drinking.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
For certain,'tis a blessed monarchy.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
The cursed fanatic days we have seen! The times have been
when swearing was out of fashion.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
And drinking.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
And wenching.
GRAY
The cursed yeas and forsooths, which we have heard uttered, when a man could not rap out an innocent oath, but strait the air was thought to be infected.
LOVEL
'Twas a pleasant trick of the saint, which that trim puritan _Swear-not-at-all Smooth-speech_ used, when his spouse chid him with an oath for committing with his servant-maid, to cause his house to be fumigated with burnt brandy, and ends of scripture, to disperse the devil's breath, as he termed it.
ALL
Ha! ha! ha!
GRAY
But 'twas pleasanter, when the other saint _Resist-the-devil- and-he-will-flee-from-thee Pure-man_ was overtaken in the act, to plead an illusio visus, and maintain his sanctity upon a supposed power in the adversary to counterfeit the shapes of things.
ALL
Ha! ha! ha!
JOHN
Another round, and then let every man devise what trick he can in his fancy, for the better manifesting our loyalty this day.
GRAY
Shall we hang a puritan?
JOHN
No, that has been done already in Coleman-Street.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Or fire a conventicle?
JOHN
That is stale too.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
Or burn the assembly's catechism?
FOURTH GENTLEMAN
Or drink the king's health,
every man standing upon his head naked?
JOHN (_to Lovel_)
We have here some pleasant madness.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
Who shall pledge me in a pint bumper, while we drink to
the king upon our knees?
LOVEL
Why on our knees, Cavalier?
JOHN
(_smiling_)
For more devotion, to be sure.
(_To a servant_.)
Sirrah, fetch the gilt goblets.
(_The goblets are brought. They drink the king's health,
kneeling. A shout of general approbation following the
first appearance of the goblets_.)
JOHN
We have here the unchecked virtues of the grape.
How the vapours curl upwards! It were a life of gods to
dwell in such an element: to see, and hear, and talk
brave things. Now fie upon these casual potations.
That a man's most exalted reason should depend upon
the ignoble fermenting of a fruit, which sparrows
pluck at as well as we!
GRAY (_aside to Lovel_)
Observe how he is ravished.
LOVEL
Vanity and gay thoughts of wine do
meet in him and engender madness.
(_While the rest are engaged in a wild kind of talk,
John advances to the front of the stage and soliloquises_.)
JOHN
My spirits turn to fire, they mount so fast.
My joys are turbulent, my hopes shew like fruition.
These high and gusty relishes of life, sure,
Have no allayings of mortality in them.
I am too hot now and o'ercapable,
For the tedious processes, and creeping wisdom,
Of human acts, and enterprizes of a man.
I want some seasonings of adversity,
Some strokes of the old mortifier Calamity,
To take these swellings down, divines call vanity.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Mr. Woodvil, Mr. Woodvil.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Where is Woodvil?
GRAY
Let him alone. I have seen him in these lunes before.
His abstractions must not taint the good mirth.
JOHN
(_continuing to soliloquize_)
O for some friend now,
To conceal nothing from, to have no secrets.
How fine and noble a thing is confidence,
How reasonable too, and almost godlike!
Fast cement of fast friends, band of society,
Old natural go-between in the world's business,
Where civil life and order, wanting this cement,
Would presently rush back
Into the pristine state of singularity,
And each man stand alone.
(_A Servant enters._)
Gentlemen, the fire-works are ready.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
What be they?
LOVEL
The work of London artists, which our host has provided in
honour of this day.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
'Sdeath, who would part with his wine for a rocket?
LOVEL
Why truly, gentlemen, as our kind host has been at the pains
to provide this spectacle, we can do no less than be present
at it. It will not take up much time. Every man may return
fresh and thirsting to his liquor.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
There is reason in what he says.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Charge on then, bottle in hand. There's husbandry in that.
(_They go out, singing. Only Level remains, who observes Woodvil_.)
JOHN
(_still talking to himself_)
This Lovel here's of a tough honesty,
Would put the rack to the proof. He is not of that sort,
Which haunt my house, snorting the liquors,
And when their wisdoms are afloat with wine,
Spend vows as fast as vapours, which go off
Even with the fumes, their fathers. He is one,
Whose sober morning actions
Shame not his o'ernight's promises;
Talks little, flatters less, and makes no promises;
Why this is he, whom the dark-wisdom'd fate
Might trust her counsels of predestination with,
And the world be no loser.
Why should I fear this man?
(_Seeing Lovel_.)
Where is the company gone?
LOVEL
To see the fire-works, where you will be expected to follow.
But I perceive you are better engaged.
JOHN
I have been meditating this half-hour
On all the properties of a brave friendship,
The mysteries that are in it, the noble uses,
Its limits withal, and its nice boundaries.
_Exempli gratia_, how far a man
May lawfully forswear himself for his friend;
What quantity of lies, some of them brave ones,
He may lawfully incur in a friend's behalf;
What oaths, blood-crimes, hereditary quarrels,
Night brawls, fierce words, and duels in the morning,
He need not stick at, to maintain his friend's honor, or his cause.
LOVEL
I think many men would die for their friends.
JOHN
Death! why 'tis nothing. We go to it for sport,
To gain a name, or purse, or please a sullen humour,
When one has worn his fortune's livery threadbare,
Or his spleen'd mistress frowns. Husbands will venture on it,
To cure the hot fits and cold shakings of jealousy.
A friend, sir, must do more.
LOVEL
Can he do more than die?
JOHN
To serve a friend this he may do. Pray mark me.
Having a law within (great spirits feel one)
He cannot, ought not to be bound by any
Positive laws or ord'nances extern,
But may reject all these: by the law of friendship
He may do so much, be they, indifferently,
Penn'd statutes, or the land's unwritten usages,
As public fame, civil compliances,
Misnamed honor, trust in matter of secrets,
All vows and promises, the feeble mind's religion,
(Binding our morning knowledge to approve
What last night's ignorance spake);
The ties of blood withal, and prejudice of kin.
Sir, these weak terrors
Must never shake me. I know what belongs
To a worthy friendship. Come, you shall have my confidence.
LOVEL
I hope you think me worthy.
JOHN
You will smile to hear now--
Sir Walter never has been out of the island.
LOVEL
You amaze me.
JOHN
That same report of his escape to France
Was a fine tale, forg'd by myself--Ha! ha!
I knew it would stagger him.
LOVEL
Pray, give me leave.
Where has he dwelt, how liv'd, how lain conceal'd?
Sure I may ask so much.
JOHN
From place to place, dwelling in no place long,
My brother Simon still hath borne him company,
('Tis a brave youth, I envy him all his virtues.)
Disguis'd in foreign garb, they pass for Frenchmen,
Two Protestant exiles from the Limosin
Newly arriv'd. Their dwelling's now at Nottingham,
Where no soul knows them.
LOVEL
Can you assign any reason, why a gentleman of Sir Walter's
known prudence should expose his person so lightly?
JOHN
I believe, a certain fondness,
A child-like cleaving to the land that gave him birth,
Chains him like fate.
LOVEL
I have known some exiles thus
To linger out the term of the law's indulgence,
To the hazard of being known.
JOHN
You may suppose sometimes
They use the neighb'ring Sherwood for their sport,
Their exercise and freer recreation.--
I see you smile. Pray now, be careful.
LOVEL
I am no babbler, sir; you need not fear me.
JOHN
But some men have been known to talk in their sleep,
And tell fine tales that way.
LOVEL
I have heard so much. But, to say truth, I mostly sleep alone.
JOHN
Or drink, sir? do you never drink too freely?
Some men will drink, and tell you all their secrets.
LOVEL
Why do you question me, who know my habits?
JOHN
I think you are no sot,
No tavern-troubler, worshipper of the grape;
But all men drink sometimes,
And veriest saints at festivals relax,
The marriage of a friend, or a wife's birth-day.
LOVEL
How much, sir, may a man with safety drink? (_Smiling_.)
JOHN
Sir, three half pints a day is reasonable;
I care not if you never exceed that quantity.
LOVEL
I shall observe it;
On holidays two quarts.
JOHN
Or stay; you keep no wench?
LOVEL
Ha!
JOHN
No painted mistress for your private hours?
You keep no whore, sir?
LOVEL
What does he mean?
JOHN
Who for a close embrace, a toy of sin,
And amorous praising of your worship's breath,
In rosy junction of four melting lips,
Can kiss out secrets from you?
LOVEL
How strange this passionate behaviour shews in you!
Sure you think me some weak one.
JOHN
Pray pardon me some fears.
You have now the pledge of a dear father's life.
I am a son--would fain be thought a loving one;
You may allow me some fears: do not despise me,
If, in a posture foreign to my spirit,
And by our well-knit friendship I conjure you,
Touch not Sir Walter's life. (_Kneels_.)
You see these tears. My father's an old man.
Pray let him live.
LOVEL
I must be bold to tell you, these new freedoms
Shew most unhandsome in you.
JOHN (_rising_)
Ha! do you say so?
Sure, you are not grown proud upon my secret!
Ah! now I see it plain. He would be babbling.
No doubt a garrulous and hard-fac'd traitor--
But I'll not give you leave. (_Draws_.)
LOVEL
What does this madman mean?
JOHN
Come, sir; here is no subterfuge.
You must kill me, or I kill you.
LOVEL (_drawing_)
Then self-defence plead my excuse.
Have at you, sir. (_They fight_.)
JOHN
Stay, sir.
I hope you have made your will.
If not, 'tis no great matter.
A broken cavalier has seldom much
He can bequeath: an old worn peruke,
A snuff-box with a picture of Prince Rupert,
A rusty sword he'll swear was used at Naseby,
Though it ne'er came within ten miles of the place;
And, if he's very rich,
A cheap edition of the _Icon Basilike_,
Is mostly all the wealth he dies possest of.
You say few prayers, I fancy;--
So to it again. (_They fight again. Lovel is disarmed_.)
LOVEL
You had best now take my life. I guess you mean it.
JOHN (_musing_)
No:--Men will say I fear'd him, if I kill'd him.
Live still, and be a traitor in thy wish,
But never act thy thought, being a coward.
That vengeance, which thy soul shall nightly thirst for,
And this disgrace I've done you cry aloud for,
Still have the will without the power to execute.
So now I leave you,
Feeling a sweet security. No doubt
My secret shall remain a virgin for you!--
(_Goes out, smiling in scorn_.)
LOVEL (_rising_)
For once you are mistaken in your man.
The deed you wot of shall forthwith be done.
A bird let loose, a secret out of hand,
Returns not back. Why, then 'tis baby policy
To menace him who hath it in his keeping.
I will go look for Gray;
Then, northward ho! such tricks as we shall play
Have not been seen, I think, in merry Sherwood,
Since the days of Robin Hood, that archer good. _
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