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_ ACT III
SCENE III.
Near Jamestown. Enter LARRY, and KATE as a page.
LARRY.
Nine ships, five hundred men, and a lord governor! Och! St. Patrick's blessing be upon them; they'll make this land flow with buttermilk like green Erin. What say you, master page, isn't this a nice neat patch to plant potatoes--I mean, to plant a nation in?
KATE.
There's but one better.
LARRY.
And which might that be?
KATE.
E'en little green Erin that you spoke of.
LARRY.
And were you ever
--och, give me your fist--were you ever in Ireland?
KATE.
It's there I was born--
LARRY.
I saw its bloom on your cheek.
KATE.
And bred.
LARRY.
I saw it in your manners.
KATE.
Oh, your servant, sir.
[Bows.]
And there, too, I fell in love.
LARRY.
And, by the powers, so did I; and if a man don't fall into one of the beautiful bogs that Cupid has digged there, faith he may stand without tumbling, though he runs over all the world beside. Och, the creatures, I can see them now--
KATE.
Such sparkling eyes--
LARRY.
Rosy cheeks--
KATE.
Pouting lips--
LARRY.
Tinder hearts! Och, sweet Ireland!
KATE.
Aye, it was there that I fixed my affections
after all my wanderings.
Song.--KATE.
Young Edward, through many a distant place,
Had wandering pass'd, a thoughtless ranger;
And, cheer'd by a smile from beauty's face,
Had laugh'd at the frowning face of danger.
Fearless Ned,
Careless Ned,
Never with foreign dames was a stranger;
And huff,
Bluff,
He laugh'd at the frowning face of danger.
But journeying on to his native place,
Through Ballinamone pass'd the stranger;
Where, fix'd by the charms of Katy's face,
He swore he'd no longer be a ranger,
Pretty Kate,
Witty Kate,
Vow'd that no time could ever change her;
And kiss,
Bliss--
O, she hugg'd to her heart the welcome stranger.
LARRY.
How's that? Ballinamone, Kate, did you say, Kate?
KATE.
Aye, Katy Maclure; as neat a little wanton tit--
LARRY.
My wife a wanton tit!
--Hark ye, master Whippersnapper, do you pretend--
KATE.
Pretend! no, faith, sir, I scorn to pretend, sir;
I am above boasting of ladies' favours, unless I
receive 'em. Pretend, quotha!
LARRY.
Fire and faggots! Favours!--
KATE.
You seem to know the girl, mister--a--
LARRY.
Know her! she's my wife.
KATE.
Your wife! Ridiculous! I thought, by your pother,
that she had been your friend's wife, or
your mistress. Hark ye, mister--a--cuckoo--
LARRY.
Cuckoo!
KATE.
Your ear. Your wife loved me as she did herself.
LARRY.
She did?
KATE.
Couldn't live without me; all day we were together.
LARRY.
You were!
KATE.
As I'm a cavalier; and all night--we lay----
LARRY.
How?
KATE.
How! why, close as two twin potatoes; in the same bed, egad!
LARRY.
Tunder and turf! I'll split you from the coxcomb to the----
KATE.
Ay, do split the twin potato asunder, do.
[Discovers herself.]
LARRY.
It is--no--what! Och, is it nobody but yourself? O my darling!
--[Catches her in his arms.]
And so--But how did you?--And where--and what--O boderation!
[Kisses.]
And how d' ye do? and how's your mother?
and the pigs and praties, and--kiss me, Kate.
[Kiss.]
KATE. So; now may I speak?
LARRY.
Aye, do be telling me--but stop every now and then,
that I may point your story with a grammatical kiss.
KATE.
Oh, hang it!
you'll be for putting nothing but periods to my discourse.
LARRY.
Faith, and I should be for counting
--[Kisses.]
--four.--Arrah! there, then; I've done with that sentence.
KATE.
You remember what caused me to stay behind,
when you embarked for America?
LARRY.
Aye, 'twas because of your old sick mother.
And how does the good lady?
[KATE weeps.]
Ah! well, Heaven rest her soul.--Cheerly, cheerly. To be sure, I can't give you a mother; but I tell you what I'll do, I'll give your children one; and that's the same thing, you know. So, kiss me, Kate. Cheerly.
KATE.
One day, as I sat desolate in my cottage, a carriage broke down near it, from which a young lady was thrown with great violence. My humble cabin received her, and I attended her till she was able to resume her journey.
LARRY.
My kind Kate!
KATE.
The sweet young lady promised me her protection,
and pressed me to go with her. So, having no mother
--nor Larry to take care of----
LARRY.
You let the pigs and praties take care of themselves.
KATE.
I placed an honest, poor neighbour in my cottage,
and followed the fortunes of my mistress
--and--O Larry, such an angel!
LARRY.
But where is she?
KATE.
Here, in Virginia.
LARRY.
Here?
KATE.
Aye, but that's a secret.
LARRY.
Oh! is it so? that's the reason then you won't tell it me.
GERALDINE, as a page, and WALTER appear behind.
KATE.
That's she.
LARRY.
Where?
KATE.
There.
LARRY.
Bother! I see no one but a silken cloaked spark,
and our Wat; devil a petticoat!
KATE.
That spark is my mistress.
LARRY.
Be asy. Are you sure you ar'n't his mistress?
KATE.
Tut, now you've got the twin potatoes in your head.
LARRY.
Twins they must be, if any, for faith I hav'n't had
a single potato in my head this many a long day.
But come, my Kate, tell me how you and your mistress
happened to jump into--
KATE.
Step aside then.
LARRY.
Have with you, my dapper page.
[They retire.]
[GERALDINE and WALTER advance.]
GERALDINE. You know this Percy, then?
WALTER.
Know him! Oh, yes!
He makes this wild wood, here, a past'ral grove.
He is a love-lorn shepherd; an Orlando,
Carving love-rhymes and ciphers on the trees,
And warbling dying ditties of a lady
He calls false Geraldine.
GERALDINE.
O my dear Percy!
How has one sad mistake marr'd both our joys!
[Aside.]
WALTER.
Yet though a shepherd, he can wield a sword
As easy as a crook.
GERALDINE.
Oh! he is brave.
WALTER.
As Julius Caesar, sir, or Hercules;
Or any other hero that you will,
Except our captain.
GERALDINE.
Is your captain, then,
Without his peer?
WALTER.
Aye, marry is he, sir,
Sans equal in this world. I've follow'd him
Half o'er the globe, and seen him do such deeds!
His shield is blazon'd with three Turkish heads.
GERALDINE.
Well, sir.
WALTER.
And I, boy, saw him win the arms;
Oh, 'twas the bravest act!
GERALDINE.
Prithee, recount it.
WALTER.
It was at Regal, close beleaguer'd then
By the duke Sigismund of Transylvania,
Our captain's general. One day, from the gate
There issued a gigantic mussulman,
And threw his gauntlet down upon the ground,
Daring our christian knights to single combat.
It was our captain, sir, pick'd up the glove,
And scarce the trump had sounded to the onset,
When the Turk Turbisha had lost his head.
His brother, fierce Grualdo, enter'd next,
But left the lists sans life or turban too.
Last came black Bonamolgro, and he paid
The same dear forfeit for the same attempt.
And now my master, like a gallant knight,
His sabre studied o'er with ruby gems,
Prick'd on his prancing courser round the field,
In vain inviting fresh assailants; while
The beauteous dames of Regal, who, in throngs
Lean'd o'er the rampart to behold the tourney,
Threw show'rs of scarfs and favours from the wall,
And wav'd their hands, and bid swift Mercuries
Post from their eyes with messages of love;
While manly modesty and graceful duty
Wav'd on his snowy plume, and, as he rode,
Bow'd down his casque unto the saddle bow.
GERALDINE.
It was a deed of valour, and you've dress'd it
In well-beseeming terms. And yet, methinks,
I wonder at the ladies' strange delight;
And think the spectacle might better suit
An audience of warriors than of women.
I'm sure I should have shudder'd--that is, sir,
If I were woman.
WALTER.
Cry your mercy, page;
Were you a woman, you would love the brave.
You're yet but boy; you'll know the truth of this,
When father Time writes man upon your chin.
GERALDINE.
No doubt I shall, sir, when I get a beard.
WALTER.
My master, boy, has made it crystal clear:
Be but a Mars, and you shall have your Venus.
Song.--WALTER.
Captain Smith is a man of might,
In Venus' soft wars or in Mars' bloody fight:
For of widow, or wife, or of damsel bright,
A bold blade, you know, is all the dandy.
One day his sword he drew,
And a score of Turks he slew;
When done his toil,
He snatch'd the spoil,
And, as a part,
The gentle heart
Of the lovely lady Tragabizandy.
Captain Smith trod the Tartar land;
While before him, in terror, fled the turban'd band,
With his good broad-sword, that he whirl'd in his hand,
To a three-tail'd bashaw he gave a pat-a.
The bashaw, in alarm,
Turn'd tails, and fled his arm.
But face to face,
With lovely grace,
In all her charms,
Rush'd to his arms
The beautiful lady Calamata.
Captain Smith, from the foaming seas,
From pirates, and shipwreck, and miseries,
In a French lady's arms found a haven of ease;
Her name--pshaw! from memory quite gone 't has.
And on this savage shore,
Where his faulchion stream'd with gore,
His noble heart
The savage dart
Had quiver'd through;
But swifter flew
To his heart the pretty princess Pocahontas.
[Exit WALTER.]
[Enter KATE.]
GERALDINE.
Now, brother page--
KATE.
Dear mistress, I have found
My faithful Larry.
GERALDINE.
Happy girl! and I
Hope soon to meet my heart's dear lord, my Percy.
Hist! the lord governor--
KATE.
He little thinks
Who is the page he loves so--
GERALDINE.
Silence.
KATE.
Mum.
[Enter DELAWAR, WALTER, LARRY, &c.]
DELAWAR.
Each noble act of his that you recite
Challenge all my wonder and applause.
Your captain is a brave one; and I long
To press the hero's hand. But look, my friends,
What female's this, who, like the swift Camilla,
On airy step flies hitherward?
WALTER.
My lord,
This is the lovely princess you have heard of;
Our infant colony's best patroness;
Nay, sir, its foster-mother.
DELAWAR.
Mark how wild--
[Music. The PRINCESS enters, with wild anxiety
in her looks; searches eagerly around for SMITH and ROLFE.]
DELAWAR.
Whom do you look for, lady?
PRINCESS.
They are gone!
Gone to be slaughter'd!
WALTER.
If you seek our captain,
He has departed for your father's banquet.
PRINCESS.
Then they have met, and they will both be lost,
My lover and my friend. O! faithless path,
That led me from my lover! Strangers, fly!
If you're the white man's friends--
DELAWAR.
Lady, we are.
PRINCESS.
Then fly to save them from destruction!
DELAWAR.
How?
PRINCESS.
Inquire not; speak not; treachery and death
Await them at the banquet.
DELAWAR.
Haste, my friends,
Give order for immediate departure.
PRINCESS.
E'en now, perhaps, they bleed! O lover! brother!
Fly, strangers, fly!
[Music. Drum beats; a bustle; scene closes.] _
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