University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in Francisco's house.
Enter Dorothea and Isaacos.
Dorothea.
Must thou then go? Alas, how swiftly fly
The hours of love! Must I then be condemn'd
To the dull prison of a husband's arms?

Isaacos.
Oh, I could ever gaze upon that form,
But cruel Fortune otherwise ordains;
It cannot, must not be: Oh, cursed Fate,
That gave thy beauty to Francisco's arms!

Enter Francisco behind.
Fran.
Either I dream, or sure I hear some man
Conversing with my wife—What do I see?

Dor.
Cursed indeed! but, ah! what could I do?
Condemn'd to servitude, which suits but ill
With Dorothea's spirit; soon I found
The dotard lov'd; I watch'd his hour of weakness,
And by a well-feign'd coyness fix'd him mine,
Then made him what he is: You from that hour,
Who always had my heart, have shar'd my joys.

Isaacos.
Ay, joys indeed, pleasures unutterable,
If not embitter'd by these anxious fears!

Dor.
By fears embitter'd? what's thy meaning? speak!

Isaacos.
Mistake me not; my fears are all for thee:
Should it be known, thou art, alas, undone;
And much I fear Francisco should awake.

Dor.
Why, that is true. Now then, retire with speed;
For morning dawns. Remember what I told thee;
Haste, and preserve thyself and friends!

Isaacos.
I will. But say, my fair, can you inform me
Whose names, beside my own, are in the warrant?

Dor.
Bernardo, Abrahamides.

Isaacos.
'Tis well.
Ah, generous mistress, doubly am I bound
By love and gratitude for ever to thee!
Farewell! may all good angels ever guard thee!

Dor.
Retire, my love; and, when the danger's past,
You shall not fail to hear from Dorothea.

[Exeunt.
Francisco comes forward.
Fran.
'Tis as I thought! Why did I ever marry?
Fool that I was, who vainly hop'd to find
That want of fortune might be well supplied
By love, and by obedience. Oh, vain hope,
To think that gratitude can ever bind
A servile mind!—But what can now be done?
If I betray suspicion, she'll grow insolent:
What can I do with him? a beggar sued—
The proverb's stale!—A cuckold?—ha! a cuckold?
Cuckolded by a journeyman? damnation!
Couldst thou not, partial Fate, when thou ordain'd
I should be cuckold, by a nobler hand
Inflict the shame? perhaps I then had found
One drop of patience; and a verdict gain'd,
Had amply paid me for my loss and shame:
Instead of that, to be a fixed mark
For all the parish now to point and stare at!
By Heav'n, I'll be reveng'd! but how? how?—Right!
His name is now inserted in the warrant;
And when in gaol, I'll buy up all his debts,
And keep him there; and, to torment him more,
I'll bribe the gaoler. Beware, Isaacos;
Thou soon shalt feel the vengeance that awaits
An injur'd Tailor's honour!

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Tittillinda's Lodgings.
Enter Tittillinda, speaking as she enters to Blousidora.
Titt.
'Tis needless, Blousidora: While you darn
Those stockings, I will mend this ruffled shirt;
For well I know you have your hands full all,
In this so-general wash.—And now for thinking!
[Sits down.
Perhaps, ere now, the fatal moment's past,
And either Abrahamides and I
Are doom'd to misery, or completely blest.
Fain would I hope, but still am check'd by fear;
And yet, who knows? Fortune perhaps may smile:
Then, Tittillinda once again will shine,
Be ever clean, and ever smartly drest;
And fear no more those prudish prying eyes,
Which smile contempt, yet envy me my joys.
Here comes my love.

Enter Abrahamides, hastily.
Abr.
Oh, Tittillinda, all our hopes are lost!

Titt.
Forbid it, love! What, could the Dungs prevail?

Abr.
Eternal curses seize their coward hearts!
Prevail they do; but not by Valour's arm.
This is no time to tell thee now, my love;
For their fell blood-hounds hunt me at the heels.

Titt.
What can I do?

Abr.
Hast thou no secret place,
Where I may lay conceal'd till danger's past?
Home I can ne'er return.

Titt.
Oh, yes, my love;
Within that room a secret closet stands,
That will escape the search of keenest eyes.
Thither retire.
[Noise without.]
We must and will come in!

Abr.
By Heav'n, they're here!
The blood-hounds now have trac'd me to my lair.

[Exit.
Enter two Constables, &c.
Titt.
Well, what's your business?

1st Con.
Madam, we are come
In search of a fell murderer; who, we are told,
Has taken refuge here.

Titt.
I know of none.

2d Con.
Denying him is vain; for he was seen
To enter here.

Titt.
Whom do you mean?

1st Con.
Why, Abrahamides:
You know him well.

Titt.
I do; and what of that?
For twice three days I have not seen him here.

2d Con.
We cannot lose our time: If you refuse
To yield him up, why then we seize on you.

Titt.
I yield him up? No! was he here indeed,
My life should pay the forfeit ere I'd yield him.

2d Con.
Then seize her!

Titt.
Stand off!

Enter Abrahamides, and knocks him down.
Abr.
Hell-hounds, stand off! Behold the man you seek!

1st Con.
Then seize on him!

Titt.
Stand off! Barbarians, hold!
Let me once more enfold him in these arms,
And take one long, one last farewell!

Abr.
Oh, cease;
Nor vainly struggle with our froward fate!—
Lead to my dungeon.

1st Con.
Bring him along!
Let's have no whimp'ring here.

Titt.
Hold! one moment hold,
'Till I have caught him once more in my arms!

2d Con.
Tear them asunder.

Titt.
Oh, Abrahamides!

Abr.
Oh, Tittillinda!

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Enter Francisco, led by Robin.
Fran.
Oh, I am grip'd!—the working jalap runs
Like thoro'-go-nimble thro' my twisted guts!

Robin.
How fierce his fever is!

Fran.
Oh, what a change of torments I endure!
A red-hot goose runs hissing thro' my bowels;
Oh, for a peck of cucumbers to cool it!
'Tis Death's bare bodkin! Give—give me a chair,
And cover me all over, for I freeze;
My teeth chatter, and my knees knock together!

Robin.
Have mercy, Heaven!

Fran.
And now I burn again!
A Tailor's hell!—The war grows wondrous hot!
See! see the Flints! Isaacos too! I know him
By his ragged coat, and unmow'd beard. Avaunt!
I'll throw a cabbage at his head! With that
Last blow I've brought him down. Oh, for
A fire as big as at the Bedford-Arms!
The shop-board moves! the needles dance cross-leg'd!
The thread's entangled!—Oh, cabbage, cucumbers!
Cab—cab—bage—bage—Oh!

[Dies.
Rob.
There fell the pride and glory of all Tailors!
[Beckons on two Servants.
Bear him off.

[As they prepare to carry him, he starts up.
Fran.
No; I won't trouble you; I'll walk off.

Rob.
Then, take the chair off.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Newgate.
Abrahamides,
solus.
Why, what is man? how vain are all his schemes!
But now, the leader of a gallant band;
And now, condemn'd to ignominious death.
Hard fate! perversely hard! to be cut off
Just at the time when fortune was in reach.
So when, thro' life, some favourite plan's pursued,
With toil and perseverance down to age,
Just as we hope to reap the fruit of all,
In steps the fell anatomy, and breaks
The bubble. Be it so! Since I must die,
No dastard fear shall stain my honest fame.

Enter Gaoler.
Gaoler.
A stranger, Sir, without desires to see you.

Abr.
A stranger! Who can it be?

Gaoler.
I know not;
But he will speak, he says, to none but you.

Abr.
Admit him then. [Exit Gaoler.]
Who can this stranger be?
But here he comes.

Enter Gaoler, and Bernardo in a chairman's coat.
Abr.
Whence, and what art thou?

Bern.
We are not alone.

Abr.
Leave us, honest friend.
[Exit Gaoler.
Well, what's your business now? and say, who art thou?

Bern.
Hast thou forgot me then?

[Discovers himself.
Abr.
How's this? Bernardo?
Welcome, thrice welcome, ever faithful friend!
But say, what urgent business brought thee here?
Death, instant death, attends discovery.

Bern.
Think'st thou that death, in whatsoever form,
Could e'er detain Bernardo from his friend?

Abr.
Oh, generous man! too-generous Bernardo!
Much, much I wanted to behold my friend;
But still I fear, while danger hovers round thee.
What fit return can thy unhappy chief
E'er make for such fidelity as thine?

Bern.
Thou wrong'st me, Abrahamides, to think
My friendship ever trod in interest's path.

Abr.
Ah! well I know thy uncorrupted faith.
Yet, oh, my friend—

Bern.
Why bursts that aching sigh?

Abr.
Tell me, Bernardo; is it fitting, he,
Who, by the general voice of all the Flints,
Was chosen chief, should be expos'd at Tyburn?
And at the gallows die a shameful death?

Bern.
What means my gallant friend?

Abr.
Does this become
Whom Tailors follow'd, and the Flints have lov'd?

Bern.
What's to be done? shall I attempt a rescue?

Abr.
No. If thou ever held'st me in thy heart,
Revenge my fall!

Bern.
I would; but how for means?

Abr.
Thou may'st remember, in an happier hour
I told thee of a plan to free us both
From servitude.

Bern.
Thou didst; but these late broils
Depriv'd me of the right.

Abr.
'Tis true, they did.
What dost thou think of me?

Bern.
As of a man
I love and honour much.

Abr.
Ill should I deserve
That character, if I could e'er permit
My friend to lose th'advantage I can't share.
Mark me!

Bern.
I will.

Abr.
Thou know'st, as well as I,
How many thousands, gaily drest, in town,
With aching hearts lament their dwindled purse.

Bern.
Know it? ay, well!

Abr.
Thou also know'st, my friend,
What blistering bills those tyrant masters bring.

Bern.
Blistering indeed! and the complaint is now
As general as just.

Abr.
Now could you contrive
To undercharge them, as in other trades,
Would you not thrive?

Bern.
Ay; but consider well
The length of credit they are forc'd to give.

Abr.
I do: That plan you are not to pursue;
Low be your price, and ready cash your terms!

Bern.
Ay, that may do. But how for capital?

Abr.
For that I have provided. Well you know,
The Tailors' trade no ample fortune needs:
Soon as the suit's bespoke, the cloth you buy;
When made, deliver'd, and the cash is paid.

Bern.
I understand you. Yet some capital,
Tho' small, is wanting for the workmens' pay.

Abr.
'Tis true; nor shall you want.

Bern.
But where to gain;
There lies the point.

Abr.
I'll tell thee. Well thou know'st
Ere cruel fortune sunk me thus to earth,
As chief, the box was ever at my nod:
This trust of right to every chief belongs;
And since a few short hours will close my fate,
Some future chief must then supply my place;
And who so fit as thou?

Bern.
Oh, generous chief!
Thy partial friendship much o'er-rates my worth.
But then, what envious rivals may oppose—

Abr.
Oh, there are none that can deserve thy fears;
The gallant leaders of the Eastern climes,
Tho' brave in war, in policy unskill'd.
Besides, I know they doubt, and turn their eyes
On me to fix their choice; thou art the man:
The public box supplies thy capital.
But oh, my friend, remember, when you've reach'd
This envied pinnacle of Tailors' greatness,
Never to violate the public faith!
On that firm base alone your power will stand:
The account is monthly; ere that time returns,
From the first profits you repay the box.

Bern.
By Heav'n this plan exceeds my utmost hopes!
Yet, oh, my heart recoils, when I reflect
My friend cannot enjoy the bright reward.

Abr.
Revenge is all the recompense I ask!—
Here is the plan digested into form;
[Gives a paper.
The different price affix'd to different suits.
In every paper quickly advertise;
You'll soon have custom: Ere few years are past,
You'll be establish'd firm in Fortune's track,
And shake the tyrants' profit, drain their purses!
For ready cash will bear you thro' the world.
What says Bernardo? wilt thou advertise?

Bern.
In every paper, Morning, Weekly, Nightly,
'Till it shall run like wildfire thro' the land,

Abr.
Then Abrahamides contented dies!—
Ye claret-drinking tyrants, ye shall feel me,
E'en from the grave! Your children yet unborn
Shall curse the day that injur'd Abrahamides!

Bern.
By Heav'n, they shall! and, to my latest hour,
Thy wrongs shall in my memory live green!

Abr.
Thanks, my Bernardo.—One word, and then farewell!
I charge thee, by our present common danger,
By our past friendship, by your future hopes,
By all that can affect a generous Tailor,
If you should have success, preserve from want
The hapless Tittillinda! Oh, remember,
Thy dying Abrahamides requests it!

Bern.
Oh, doubt it not! Should Fortune blast my hopes,
By work, at least, I can preserve from want
Thy hapless fair.

Abr.
Oh, thanks, thou generous friend!
For ever, and for ever, now farewell!

Bern.
For ever, and for ever, oh, farewell,
Thou first of friends, of heroes, and of Tailors!

[Exit.
Enter Christophorides, Humphryminos, Bartholomëus, and Jackides.
Hum.
Oh, gallant man, chief pillar of the Flints!

Bart.
Wapping will stand aghast, and Redriff mourn
Thy lamentable fall!

Abr.
Cease your vain griefs!
I won't forgive that friend who sheds one tear!
As Abrahamides has ever liv'd,
So is he now resolv'd to die, a Flint!

Jack.
Upon my shoul, he is a gallant fellow!

Abr.
I thank you for this last mark of your friendship;
And now from each will take a last farewell.
But some I miss! where is Isaacos?
And where Bernardo?

Chris.
They are both proscrib'd,
Therefore absconded.—In this doubtful state,
(When thou shalt be no more) we know not where
To fix our choice; and therefore are we come
To know, whom thou wilt name to fill thy place.

Abr.
The worthiest.

Chris.
Who can determine that?

Abr.
Your own free choice.

Hum.
That will be doubtful still,
Where merit's equal; and your voice alone
Will put an end to every private claim.

Abr.
Consider well the task which you impose:
Where all are worthy of the name of Flints,
Whom can I name, but I affront the rest?

Bart.
Oh, no! so much we rest upon your truth,
Your honesty, that we're determin'd all,
Both to obey, and to support, the chief
Whom you shall recommend.

Abr.
'Tis a hard task!
Yet, ere I speak, answer what I demand.

Omnes.
We will.

Abr.
Have I e'er swerv'd from duty, or from honour?

Hum.
Oh, no.

Abr.
Say, have I e'er deceiv'd you?

Chris.
No.

Abr.
Has private friendship ever bias'd me?

Bart.
No.

Abr.
Have I e'er violated public faith?
Or with rapacious hand e'er wrong'd the box?

Hum.
Oh, no: And therefore do we want thy voice,
To nominate a chief.

Abr.
Fain would I wave
This last hard task! What think you of Bernardo?

Omnes.
It is enough.—Bernardo be the man!
Long live Bernardo! he's our future guide.

Abr.
And now, my friends, take each a last farewell.—
But, oh, remember! never let the Flints
Sink to base slavery! Tho' now oppress'd,
In happier days they yet may rise again.
In the mean time, with utmost industry,
Use every art to gall the tyrant masters!

Bart.
We will.—But, oh, brave chief, we grieve to find
The last sepulchral honours are denied thee:
No friend can with to close thy dying eyes,
Or lay thy clay-cold corse in hallow'd earth!

Jack.
What, are the slaying rascals then to have him?

Bart.
Too sure, they must.

Jack.
De'el burn me, if they shall!
There's little Phalim, I, and all my boys,
Will rescue him from out their butchering hands.

Abr.
Let them then do their worst; for wheresoe'er
One bone of Abrahamides shall hang,
Know—there still Abrahamides shall awe them!

Hum.
Oh, gallant chief! worthy an happier fate!
For ever, now, we take our last farewell.

Abr.
Live and be happy, and farewell for ever!

[Exeunt omnes præter Abr.
Enter Tittillinda.
Titt.
Stand off! hold off your hands! 'tis all in vain!
See him I must.—Oh, Abrahamides!

Abr.
Ah, Tittillinda! wherefore art thou come?

Titt.
Unkindly said! Canst thou deny me then
Once more to see, once more within my arms
To press thee close—ere yet we part for ever?

Abr.
Mistake me not! still art thou rooted here!—
Check those sad tears, lest they unman me too.

Titt.
Have I not cause? when thou art gone for ever,
Oh, where shall hapless Tittillinda go?
No friend to soothe her sorrows, share her grief,
Or shield her from unfeeling bailiffs' hands!

Abr.
Oh, cease; nor with vain fears disturb thy breast;
Thy Abrahamides has taken care
At least from want to save his Tittillinda.
My friend Bernardo, when from danger free,
Has power and will to serve thee.

Titt.
What of that?
What power, what will, can ever make me blest?—
Since thou wert taken, sleep has fled my eyes:
Last night, I had a mack'rel for my supper,
But ah, whilst thou wert absent, could not eat.
Thus will it be, on each succeeding day;
At breakfast, dinner, supper, shall I miss thee!

Abr.
Oh, cease, my love; nor with these fruitless tears
Lament in vain what cannot be redress'd!
But since each moment I expect my fate,
Oh, let me be prepar'd. Say, hast thou brought
The linen with thee?

Titt.
I had quite forgot.
Here is the cap; and here the shirt; a ruffled one.
But, oh, what change has cruel Fortune made!
What pleasing thoughts amus'd me while 'twas mending!
I fondly hop'd, but, ah, I hop'd in vain,
This ruffled shirt had been thy Sunday's shirt,
And not a winding-sheet to shade thy corse.

Abr.
Thanks to my love, for this last generous care!—
Undaunted, now, I will my fate defy!
Since I shall soon with kings and princes lie,
I with this shirt will make a shift to die.

[Exit.
[Tittillinda faints.
Enter Gaoler.
Gaoler.
From these sad scenes this certain truth you'll draw,
Great is the danger to offend the law;
Since nor his conduct, bravery, nor truth,
Could from the gallows save the Tailor youth.