University of Virginia Library

SCENE VII.

The field of battle—flourishes, shouts, and every kind of noise the prompter can conveniently make.
Enter Philus Philomusus.
Phi.
What, ho! young Sedley! Philomusus calls!
I hate thy paper for 't is worked with balls.
Now, if thou dost not hide thee from my quill,
Sedley, I say, come forth and try thy skill!
I'll meet thee here, with all thy Grub street force,
I'll hold my tongue—for I am getting hoarse.

[Exit—flourish.
Enter Caustic and Finance.
Fin.
Rescue! oh, rescue! noble Caustic, quick!
Great Philus Philomusus beats old Nick!
His quill 's used up, and he with pencil writes,
Dashing at Sedley, and his scribbling wights.

Enter Philomusus.
Phi.
A pen!—a pen!—my kingdom for a pen!

Caus.
I'll fly to Jansen's, sir, and get you ten.

Phi.
Slave! must I wait at such a time for thee?
When every second is a century!
I think there be six “Comets” in the fray,
Five have I pulled down by the beard to-day,
Instead of Sedley's—but I'll try again—
A pen—a pen—my kingdom for a pen!
Rally your powers, Finance! your forces rally;
I'll lead you on to a most glorious sally:
Draw, archers draw, your arrows to the head,
With shafts of satire strike the rebels dead!
Spur Pegasus, ye poets, till he prance,
Ye cannoniers of argument, advance;
Charge, ye light cavalry of anecdote,
While Fame's shrill trumpet breathes its liveliest note;
Rattle quick vollies forth, ye rhyming lovers,
Advance your standards (blue and yellow covers;)
Upon them, Caustic, with your forces charge!
Gamut, push on! with buckler, shield, and targe;
Level long-toms, good Leggett, at his hull,
And let a shower of grape salute his skull;
With whole broadsides of tales assail the dolts,
'Twixt wind and water, sir—drive home their bolts!
On, gallant Power, with hot hell-kettle fights;
Lawson, advance, with all thy Scottish knights;
Charge, Paulding, charge! with tales and allegories;
On, Dunlap, on! with thy dramatic stories;
Outflank them, Woodworth, with thy wingéd prancers,
Supported by thy Amazonian lancers;
Sound drums and trumpets! boldly and cheerfully!
The word, St. George, Mirror, and victory!

[A most glorious flourish, in the midst of which a bright and fiery comet, accompanied by a shower of stars, is seen to fall into the North river, where it expires in a hiss, in which it is expected all the audience will participate. Shouts of victory succeed, and the curtain falls amid thunders of applause.