University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

An apartment in Francisco's house.
Enter Dorothea and Mopperella.
Mopperella.
Cease, my dear mistress, cease these fruitless tears,
Nor let the canker Grief destroy thy beauty.
My master never later stays than ten,
But he sends word.

Dor.
Oh, you mistake me quite!
Far other sorrows load my throbbing breast.

Mop.
What other sorrows can disturb you now?
I'm sure no woman in the parish goes
Or better fed, or better drest than thou,
Or takes more pleasure in a handsome way.

Dor.
Happiest of tailor's ladies sure am I;
Ungrateful were it to deny the truth.
'Tis true, Francisco drives but with one horse,
Nor envy I those ladies drive with two.—
But, Mopperella, as you talk of eating,
Say, is the sparrow-grass got ready yet?

Mop.
The water's boiling, and the toast is made;
But Betty says she will not put the grass
Into the saucepan, till my master comes.

Dor.
Betty is careful.

Mop.
Then, dear madam, say,
Since you confess that you enjoy all pleasure,
A country-house, and town, a one-horse chaise,
White-Conduit-House, and every joy beside,
Why do you grieve thus?

Dor.
True, my Mopperella,
I have a country-house in Lambeth-Marsh,
Genteelly furnish'd; nor need fear, when drest,
The envious glance of Madam Sarcenet's eye:
Yet, for all this, I am unhappy still.
I know not why—but, ah! my boding heart
Presages ill from this night's fatal council.

Mop.
What, do you grieve because my master's out?
Oh, grieve no more; he will be back to supper.
Madam, was I in your place, I protest,
I should be merry as a grig all day.

Dor.
Thou hast no husband, Moppy! if thou hadst,
Thou wouldst not prattle at this idle rate:
How can a single woman ever feel
Those little fears, that nice uneasiness,
Which so distinguish every prudent wife?

Mop.
Madam, tho' single, yet I can pronounce,
If I was married, I should love my husband;
But tho' I lov'd him, yet I would not fret
When he was out—unless he stay'd all night.

Dor.
Stay out all night? hold your irreverent tongue!
[Knocking.
Your master comes! I know his knock—begone!
Bid Betty hasten supper: Well I know,
When he returns, he's hungry and fatigued.

Enter Francisco with his head broke, led by a Waiter.
Fran.
Here, Robin, here's a tester!

Dor.
What do I see!
Oh, speak, Francisco! ease me of my fears!

Fran.
Be not alarm'd, my love; but lend thy arm,
To prop my feeble steps.

Dor.
Run for a surgeon!

Fran.
Hast thou no sticking-plaister here, my love?

Dor.
I have, my love; and Hung'ry water too.
How art thou now?

Fran.
Better; much better, love;
Only a little faint, with loss of blood.

Dor.
No wonder, love: Did'st thou not faint before?

Fran.
A Tailor's soul bears all with equal firmness!

Dor.
But say, my love, how hap'd this dire mischance?

Fran.
Why, in the middle of our long debate,
The journeymen, assembled all in arms,
With stones broke every window: Then, whilst I
Endeavour'd to oppose (the rest being old)
Myself alone, amidst an host of foes,
Oppress'd by numbers, senseless fell to earth,
'Till Robin pick'd me up, and led me home.

Dor.
Where was thy Dolly then, to bind thy head?—
But now my dream is out, my fears are gone!
Why wouldst thou go, against thy Dolly's warning?

Fran.
Who can control his fate? All must submit;
Monarchs, and Tailors, must submit to Fate.

Dor.
That's true. Then let me put thee now to bed,
And rest, perhaps, will heal thy smarting wounds.

Fran.
I will; and in the morning soon will get
A judge's warrant for that rascal Isaac.

Dor.
Isaac? who's he?

Fran.
Why, our late foreman; he
Was at their head.

Dor.
Then trounce him well, my love!
But come, get thee to bed; and then—

Fran.
What then?

Dor.
I'll make my love some whey.

Fran.
And so you may.
[Fran. is led out.
Dorothea alone.
For Isaac get a warrant? I'm undone!
What can I do?—Ha! when he's fast asleep,
I'll send for Isaac, give him instant notice,
That he may shun the danger.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

An Antichamber in the Alehouse. Abrahamides and Bernardo, meeting.
Abr.
Oh, faithful friend, sole partner of my councils,
Thy early industry proclaims thy heart.

Bern.
None yet arriv'd? what means this dull delay?

Abr.
'Tis yet too soon; therefore I bid thee come,
To share the troubles that disturb my breast.

Bern.
Is this a time, oh, chief, to harbour fear,
When our long-labour'd scheme is near its birth?

Abr.
Mistake me not: So cold a guest as Fear
Ne'er found admittance into this firm breast.
I fear, and doubt of others.

Bern.
Who? explain!

Abr.
Hast thou not mark'd, in all our various meetings,
Some fearful hearts, still wavering and weak?

Bern.
Whom do you mean?

Abr.
Pale Zachariades,
Envious Philippomenos, I fear;
Ralpho's cold heart; Timotheus' addle brain!

Bern.
Why do you doubt them?

Abr.
Oh, I know them well:
On the same board together oft we've work'd;
Oft have I seen them, with an abject eye,
Tremble before the tyrant master's frown,
And crouch beneath the foreman's weak dominion.

Bern.
If thus you doubt, 'twere better to prevent
The ills you fear, than wait in vain their cure.

Abr.
That's my design.

Bern.
Shall I secure them, then?

Abr.
Not yet, with open force: With deeper art,
We'll make their fears the rulers of their fate.
Involv'd in guilt, they'll then have no retreat,
But must go forward. This night's hostile act
(I know Isaacos will do his duty)
Commences war; no hopes of peace remain.

Bern.
Have you yet heard from great Isaacos?

Abr.
Yes, my Bernardo, that the blow is struck:
That done, they all dispers'd, but will attend
Their several duties here. In the mean time,
Be it thy care to watch those heartless Dungs;
Inform the leaders of the Eastern climes,
Redriff, and Wapping, of our honest fears,
That when we've singled out these half-made souls,
(Should we not bring them to the paths of Honour)
Then, like a limb diseas'd, we'll lop them off!

Bern.
Bravely resolv'd, my chief.—But sure, 'tis time
That we repair to council.

Abr.
Let's go in.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Club-Room.
Bernardo, Christophorides, Humphryminos, Bartholomëus, Zachariades, Philippomenos, and Ralpho, in council; Abrahamides in the chair.
Abr.
Oh, gallant men, chief pillars of the trade!
For the last time we meet, to fix the plan
Of future action. 'Tis well known to all,
Some timid Dungs (unworthy of the name
Alike of Tailor or of man; from whom
Opprobrious proverbs rise to hurt our fame)
Meanly descend to work for half-a-crown.
Whilst this continues, all our schemes are vain:
What's to be done?

Hum.
Great Abrahamides,
Permit a man, unskill'd in council sage,
Yet from plain facts, that have been, thence conclude
What may be.—When the weaving sons of silk,
Oppress'd with debts and hunger, rose in arms,
They had divisions then, as we have now:
What did they do? whene'er they found a man
Doubting or falt'ring, him they strait compell'd:
Hence, soon a formidable band arose,
And all the sister trades were forc'd to join.
Lo! their example points us out the way.

Bart.
And since, among such numbers, will be found
Some dastard Dungs, let chosen bands be plac'd
To storm the masters' houses where they work;
And at the midnight hour, when sunk in sleep,
Break all their windows, frighten all their wives;
While others shall assault each house of call,
Smash all their slates, and plunder every box:
'Till, by experience, they are taught to know
No private safety can depend on aught
But on the common good. We want not men,
Nor chiefs to lead them.

Zach.
Measures such as these,
Could we insure success, would gain our ends.
The Dungs are numerous, and, tho' so base
To dread the noble toil of glorious war,
Yet that same baseness may defeat our valour.
It is well known, before these fatal broils,
The Flints and Dungs in friendly intercourse
Together work'd, together friendly drank;
Hence all are known, his name, his habitation,
His house of haunt, and each particular:
Should we proceed to force, as is advis'd,
With informations they would strait repair
To Sir John Fielding; whose fierce myrmidons,
At unexpected moments, might entrap
Singly our chiefs, and throw them into gaol.

Bern.
And if they do, they cannot hang us, sure!
Breaking of windows is not capital.

Zach.
But plundering boxes is.

Bern.
That we'll avoid.

Zach.
Think on the Riot-Act.

Bern.
Ere that is read,
All our swift-footed Flints, as swift as ducks,
Will soon elude their search.

Zach.
But when asleep
Can they escape? may they not then be ta'en?

Bern.
Suppose they are, is there a man so base,
Who fears, for such a cause, to live in gaol,
When from each box they will be well supplied
With beef, with cabbage, cucumbers, and porter.
Fear, more than wisdom, dictates gentler means.

Abr.
Bernardo, you forget!

Bern.
I stand reprov'd.

Zach.
Fear! fear, Bernardo? sure he but little knows
Firm Zachariades, who doubts his courage.

Bern.
Curs'd be the man who doubts it! Well I know,
Thro' every purlieu of long Drury-Lane,
And Covent-Garden, has thy prowess shone;
And White-Hart-Yard is wanton at thy name.
Nor is thy matchless hardiness unknown;
For, while the slaves of ease repose on down,
Oft on the flinty pavement hast thou laid,
Hush'd by the murmuring kennel to thy slumbers.
I meant not to reproach, but only raise
Thy well-known courage to support our cause.

Phil.
His courage none can doubt; and since all here
Are free, with freedom will I speak my mind:
I own I think with Zachariades,
That gentler means at first should be propos'd,
To win as friends, rather than treat as foes.

Chris.
No generous means will ever win a Dung;
Their sordid souls are lost to every sense
Of kindness, or of honour: Force alone
Can e'er prevail with them. Ye have my voice.

Enter Isaacos.
Abr.
Welcome, Isaacos! what's the news with thee?

Isaacos.
At first, I strove with subtle art to gain
Full information of their dark design;
Sounded the waiters; but I found it vain,
For their own prentices secur'd the door:
That known, resolv'd at last to give no time
For future schemes; my troops I quickly form'd,
And in an instant, at the signal given,
A cloud of brick-bats darken'd all the air,
Smash'd every window, deafen'd every ear:
Sudden they gaz'd; at the next onset fled,
Rout upon rout, confusion worse confounded!
Hats, wigs, and bottles, pipes, and Tailors, lay
In one promiscuous carnage! Soon all fled,
Save those whom wounds or gouty limbs detain'd.
Great Hagglestonon, prostrate on the earth—

Abr.
White-liver'd Tailor!—
There let him lie, and be the earth on him!

Isaacos.
With him, Regniades, Francisco, fell.
This done, we all dispers'd, and all are safe.

Abr.
Conduct like this deserves our public thanks.

Omnes.
To great Isaacos our thanks be paid!

Isaacos.
Oh, you o'er-rate my services too much;
All I can boast, is to have done my duty.

Abr.
Thus, by one brave and daring bright example,
You see how vigour will insure success:
And, Zachariades, I trust, will own,
On that alone depends our future hope.

Zach.
I meant not to oppose the public voice,
But freely gave my thoughts.

Abr.
Then we conclude,
With hostile vigour to compel the Dungs.

Omnes.
All; all resolve!

Abr.
In Covent-Garden, ere tomorrow's dawn,
We'll muster all our troops; there let each chief
Attend for further orders.—Good night to all!

[Exeunt all but Abr. and Bern.
Abr.
What think'st thou now, Bernardo? Didst thou mark
The pallid Dungs?

Bern.
I did; and saw that fear
Shrunk their cold hearts, and wither'd every nerve.

Abr.
They have not hearts to enter into guilt;
Them I can never trust: Some safer way
Must then be found to rid us of our fears.

Bern.
Ay, but what way?

Abr.
Put powder in their drink!

Bern.
What dost thou mean? gunpowder?

Abr.
No, nor James's powder: Excruciating jalap!

Bern.
Ha! jalap!

Abr.
Gripe-giving Mercury will reach their bowels,
And render them unfit for active deeds.

Bern.
True; that will do: Where is it to be got?

Abr.
Know'st thou no lean apothecary!

Bern.
No.

Abr.
Then buy it at a common chymist's shop.

Bern.
If we should give too much?
What if the powder should not work at all?

Abr.
Suppose it should not?
Hast thou, Bernardo, gone with me so far,
Trod every step, and shar'd in every honour,
And start'st thou at a paltry accident,
Which may or may not happen?

Bern.
Doubt me not!
But you remember what the bakers did,
Out of mere fun, and too much jalap given?

Abr.
Their comrade died, and they absconded: Well!
And what of that?—Mark me, Bernardo, well:
Consider well the precipice we're on;
For should we fail, be sure that thou and I
To public justice the first victims fall.

Bern.
No more! thou hast convinc'd me; I'm resolv'd.

Abr.
Yet hear! shall we, when rais'd thus high, stop now,
When one step higher crowns our utmost hopes?
Nay, more—but this is for thy private ear—
If we succeed in this, I have a plan
Will free us ever from base servitude,
And we'll be masters in our turn, Bernardo.

Bern.
Oh, worthy to deceive and awe the Tailors!
I'll go this instant (for I know their haunt)
And, under fair pretence of reconcilement,
We'll drink together; just ere the tankard's out,
I'll mix the drug, and leave them to their fate.

[Going.
Abr.
A lucky thought.—Yet hear, Bernardo.

Bern.
What dost thou say, my chief?

Abr.
Full half an ounce!

Bern.
Depend upon it, they shall have enough;
It shall not be a thimble-full.

Abr.
Oh, noble daring!—Think on the reward:
If we succeed, we're masters for ourselves.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Zachariades's Lodgings.
Enter Zachariades and Tinderella.
Tind.
Why, look you, Zachariades! 'tis vain
To talk to me—my children shall not starve.

Zach.
I prithee, woman, hold thy peace—no more!

Tind.
I will not peace, while I have breath to speak.
Oh, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth!
Then would I rattle thee with such a peal,
Thou shouldst comply, or never shouldst have rest.

Zach.
Nor have I now, or ever shall.

Tind.
Oh, shame!
There's not a meeker-temper'd woman breathes
Than Tinderella—all the parish knows.
But 'tis enough to make a parson swear,
To see a man run headlong into gaol
And starve his children, and as good a wife
(Tho' I declare it) as man ever had.

Zach.
As good a wife?—ay, and as gentle too!

Tind.
Ay, gentle too!—What, I suppose you'd have
Some meek insipid thing, with folded arms,
Would stand or curt'sy, and say yes, or no,
As you would have her: No, i'faith not I!
I do my duty, you should think on yours.

Zach.
Why, what the devil ails the woman now?
Is not three shillings better far, thou fool,
Than half-a-crown a-day?

Tind.
What's half-a-crown,
Or what three shillings, if you go to gaol?
Who will maintain your wife and children then?

Zach.
Each friendly box will yield a weekly aid.

Tind.
But what if you should be confin'd for years?
The box would soon be tir'd. See, hither come
Your masters with a warrant.

Enter Hagglestonon and Regniades.
Zach.
Let them come!

Hag.
Well, Zachariades, to you we come,
As to a man whose regularity
Has long been known. Say, wherefore would you lose
Your reputation thus, to join with those
Whom gentle usage never can restrain?

Reg.
Why will you mingle with such men, whose acts
Are all against the law?

Zach.
Why should not I,
As well as others, have my wages rais'd?
My work is good as theirs.

Hag.
Suppose it is,
You know the price is fix'd; what is your due
Is duely paid. Whoe'er offends the law
Will feel, too late, the weight of all its pains.

Tind.
Did not I say so?

Zach.
Woman, hold your peace!

Tind.
No, I will not!—Sirs, give me leave to speak—

Hag.
Hold; let me speak.—We now are come as friends,
Out of regard to your known worth, to save you
From all its penalties; for, be assur'd,
Whoe'er is ta'en will most severely suffer.

Zach.
I shall not, more than others.

Tind.
Yes, you will.

Reg.
Ay, that you will: consider well, your wife,
Your children.

Tind.
Think on that! your children, wife!

Zach.
What would you have me do?—If I comply,
The Flints will strait molest; nor wife, nor child,
Nor e'en myself, were safe.

Reg.
Oh, never fear
Those lawless rascals: We will safe protect
Both you, and all the rest that with you join.

Enter Timotheus.
Tim.
Oh, Zachariades!

Zach.
Well, what's the matter!

Tim.
Poor Philippomenos is almost dead!
Ere he arriv'd at home, a cold fit seiz'd,
And cruel vomits shatter'd all his frame.

Zach.
Whence could it come?

Tim.
I know not; but he fears
Some foul play shewn, when late he drank with you
And with Bernardo. I must run for help.

[Exit.
Zach.
Foul play! we all drank; it cannot be.

Tind.
Yes, on my life it can.
These are your Flints, your heroes; these the friends
You only trust; and when you are in gaol,
They'll poison you, to save their pension'd box.

Zach.
Ay, that may be.

Reg.
You see what faithless men
You are engag'd with: Now consider well,
If peace, or safety, e'er can harbour there.

Zach.
My very worthy, and approv'd good masters,
With pleasure, to my duty I return;
And so would more, did not their fears prevent:
But since you promise us your firm support,
I'll seek the others, and consult them strait.

Hag.
Continue firm, and doubt not our support.

[Exe.

SCENE V.

Covent-Garden.
Enter Abrahamides, Isaacos, Bartholomëus, Christophorides, Humphryminos, and others.
Abr.
Welcome, ye Flints, deserving of the name!
Ye meet like men who would command success.
Say, gallant leaders of the eastern bands,
Where are your troops, and how dispos'd your quarters?

Bart.
Mine are all ready, eager for the fight,
And my head-quarters fix'd, with utmost care,
Up at the Goose-and-Gridiron, Powl's Church-Yard.

Abr.
Where thine, brave Christophorides?

Chris.
Why, at the Bell, in Doctor's Commons.

Abr.
Where thine, Humphryminos?

Hum.
Safe at the Hog-in-Armour, in Chick-Lane.

Abr.
Right well dispos'd!—Oh, gallant, brave allies,
Matchless as will your glory be hereafter,
'Tis not for me—But see, who comes in haste!

Enter Bernardo.
Bern.
Oh, noble Abrahamides, this time
Calls loud for action, and admits no pause:
The Dungs are all in arms, and vow revenge
For murder'd Philippomenos. Their troops,
In Lincoln's-Inn fam'd Fields, in firm array,
Are led by Zachariades; who means
T'attack you here, before your forces join,
Unless prevented.

Abr.
Ay, this looks like war!
By Heaven, the news alarms my Tailor's soul!
But say, which way do they direct their march?

Bern.
I hear, thro' Serle-Street they direct their course,
Then thro' Sheer-lane, and by St. Clement's Church.

Abr.
By Heav'n, all this falls out beyond my hopes!
Haste thou, Isaacos! with thy well-known care,
March with thy small detachment thro' the Strand;
Watch well their motions, and straight send me word.
[Exit Bern.
Should they attack you, you'll be well sustain'd.

Isaacos.
Should they attack Isaacos, they'll meet
A welcome, that will scarce deserve their thanks.
[Exit Isaacos.

Abr.
I doubt it not; for thou'rt a Flint of fire!
You, Christophorides, from Doctor's Commons,
In one small column, thro' those narrow courts
That from Black-Friars to the Temple lead,
March on your troops; and in the King's-Bench-Walks
Directly form; and wait for further orders.
[Exit Chris.
You, great Bartholomëus, from Powl's Church-Yard,
March in firm phalanx straight down Ludgate-Hill,
And Christophorides at Temple-Bar
Will join your troop. [Exit Bart.]
While you, Humphryminos,
Up Holborn-Hill direct your secret march,
And wait upon their rear. [Exit Hum.]
Myself the while,
With the main body, will attack their front.

Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Oh, chief, the gallant Jack—

Abr.
Eternal silence seize that vulgar tongue!
Harry sounds well, the warlike Harry noble!
But Jack, vile Jack—degrading monosyllable!

Mess.
What shall I call him then, oh, chief?

Abr.
Henceforth
Jackides be his name!

Mess.
Jackides, then,
With all his troops revolted from the Dungs,
Is now without, and waits your further orders.

Abr.
Admit him instantly!

Mess.
I will, this moment.

[Exit.
Enter Jackides, with a broomstick.
Abr.
Oh, brave Jackides, welcome to my arms!
Hibernia's gallant son, thy happier isle,
Unhurt by luxury, its courage keeps;
While Britain's youth, surcharg'd with beef and beer,
Degenerate from their fathers, mourn in vain
Their antique spirit to Iërne fled.

Jack.
Great Abrahamides, I cannot spake,
But I will tell you how the matter stands:
At three o'clock they call'd me out of bed,
At little Phalim's, where I lodge; I rose,
Went with M'Carty, and my Irish boys;
Each of us took a broomstick in our hands,
Thinking the masters were refractory;
But when we came—what do you call his name?
Pale—

Abr.
Zachariades.

Jack.
Ay, Zack; the same—
He prated much, and bother'd all our brains,
And said at last, the masters would support us.
The devil burn the masters, and the Dungs!
Then straight M'Carty, little Phalim, I,
And all our Irish boys, came off to you.

Abr.
M'Carty? Phelim? tell me, are they firm?

Jack.
Firm? ay, as brick-bats: They're good fellows both,
As ever trotted bog: Set them to work,
And then you'll see what pretty boys they are.

Abr.
'Tis not their courage, or their truth, I doubt;
But wish to know their characters in war.

Jack.
Why, little Phalim from the White Boys came;
I, and M'Carty, from our earliest youth,
Among the boys of Liberty and Ormond,
Were train'd to arms.

[A shout.
Enter a Messenger in haste.
Abr.
Well, what's the business?

Mess.
The brave Isaacos demands your aid:
Close by St. Clement's Church he stood, unhurt,
The shock of numerous Dungs, 'till, from the courts,
Numbers out-numbering number pouring forth,
O'er-power'd his little band.

Abr.
Jackides, then,
Haste with Hibernia's legion to his aid!

Jack.
Ay, that I will. Fear not! my Irish boys
Shall bring you presently a good account
Of all these bastard brats, these dastard Dungs.

[Exit.
Abr.
Brothers, and partners in this glorious toil,
'Tis not for me to rouze your courage now:
Be but yourselves, and I can ask no more!
Consider well, no common cause demands
Your present aid, and forces you to arms:
The daily six-pence is no trivial point.
What are these timid Dungs, whom you oppose?
Are not their spirits by oppression broke?
And shall the Flints, like them, e'er sink to slaves?
Dishonour blast the thought! Remember too,
Fame, Fortune, Honour, all are now at stake!
Oh, let these noble thoughts swell all your hearts,
New-string your arms, add weight to every blow.
Draw all your bludgeons, brandish them in air;
Huzza! the word, Newgate, or Victory!

[Exeunt.