University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Front vestibule of the City-Hall. Philus reading a communication.
Phi.
How sweet is every strain from Lydia Huntley!
Enter Finance.
Good news or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly?

Fin.
Bad news, my lord, as I can gather from it,
That Peregrine is writing for the Comet;
And Epigram has left us in a huff,
To write for Sedley a prodigious puff.

Phi.
Perry with Sedley touches me more near
Than Epigram's revolt; but hence with fear!
Dangers retreat when boldly they 're confronted,
Neither my courage nor my pen is blunted.
Let 's muster men who racy quills can wield,
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
Collect our forces: Paulding, Irving, Stone,
Bryant and Wetmore, Woodworth, Knapp, and Hone,
Pintard and Stuart, Strong, Verplanck, and Wharton,
Sage Matthew Carey, Payne, and General Morton;
Dunlap and Leggett, Hoffman, Cox, and Fay,
Willis and Inman, Palmer, Sprague, and Day;
Smillie, Durand, with Weir, and Simms, and Hawes,
With Clarke and Bird, and all who love our cause;
Bid all our fair invincibles assemble:
Tuneful Pierce Butler, late Miss Fanny Kemble,
Fair Sigourney and Embury, advance;
Come, see, and conquer with a single glance!
Aiken and Bogart, Vanderpool and Brooks,
Whipple and Gould, Montgomery and Crookes
Muzzy, and Fitch, and Thayer, disdain to shrink,
And quench this Comet in a sea of ink.
Enter Caustic.
How now? the news?

Caus.
A work will soon be out,
Yclept the Comet, edited, no doubt,
By recreant Sedley, who now waits assistance
From Epigram, to give the brat existence.

[Exit.
Phi.
Why, let it come, then. Hasten you, Finance,
Swiftly as you can make White Surrey prance,
Post to Whitehall, to Fabulator's bower,
Bid him straight levy all the strength and power
That he can make; 't is Paulding that I mean,
Beg him to furnish all that he can glean,
And meet me here at eight to-morrow morn.
Commend me to his grace. Away! begone!
[Exit Finance.
Enter Stanley.
Well, my good lord, what news have you collected?

Stan.
Willis is on the seas, and soon expected.

Phi.
Well, what of Sedley, and the Comet press.

Stan.
I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

Phi.
Well, as you guess?

Stan.
Sustained by Epigram,
Conundrum, Ondit, Rebus, Flash, and Flam,
Sedley expects to win a laurel crown.

Phi.
Where are thy forces, then, to put him down?
Where be thy legends, tales, romantic stories,
Grave essays, proverbs, fables, allegories,
The foe at hand, and thou no arms to meet 'em!
No classic fire to scatter and defeat 'em!
Or, hast thou sold such literary lumber,
To help the rebels out in their first number?

Stan.
My lord, such subjects, serious and erratic,
Are all transcribed, and ready in my attic.

Phi.
What do they in the attic, sapient sir,
When here they 're needed by thy editor?
Away, then, to thy garret for them—stay,
I will not trust thee. I have thought a way
To make thee sure—if thou play'st double game,
I'll blazon to the world thy real name;
So I'll expect thy papers without fail,
Or else thy fame's assurance is but frail.

Stan.
As I prove true, my lord, so deal with that.

Enter Caustic.
Caus.
Poor Epigram is sued, sir, for a hat,
And what subscribers he procured, refuse
To pay the balance of their several dues;
Saying, that their subscription was a shame.

Phi.
Off with their names!—so much for Epigram.

Caus.
My lord, I'm sorry I 've more news to tell.

Phi.
Out with it, Caustic, we can bear it well.

Caus.
Sedley has come out with a daily sheet,
Which boys are peddling now in every street.
One cent a-piece is all the price they ask;
An eighth of which rewards them for their task;
It carries all before it, it is said,
As eighty thousand copies have been spread.
The Sun, the Moon, the Star, and fifty others,
All join the Comet, like a band of brothers,

Phi.
Why, ay, this looks rebellion! Stop the press!
And put in our poetical address.
By heaven, this news my stirring soul alarms,
And all my energies are now in arms!
Come forth, my honest pen! which, here I vow,
Shall not again be dry as it is now;
Ne'er shall these watching eyes have needful rest,
Till these apostates have been skinned and dressed,
Ne'er shall these limbs on downy bed regale
Till I have seized this Comet by the tail!

[Exit in a rage