 | The Tailors |  |
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!
29
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
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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;
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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
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[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.
| The Tailors | |