 | The Tailors |  |
SCENE I.
A Tailor's Work-Shop.Abrahamides discovered. Enter Bernardo and Bartholomëus.
Abrahamides.
Welcome, Bernardo!—Now, what say our friends?
Bern.
Great Abrahamides, the chief of all
Who led th'embattled Tailors first to war,
Success attends you to your utmost wish:
Behold, the brave Bartholomëus is come,
Willing to hear, and aid your utmost aim.
Abr.
His mien is noble, and bespeaks the Tailor;
Not of the Dunghill and degenerate race,
But such as the brave Elliot led to battle.
Will he not bend before a master's frown?
Or flow dissolving in the tankard's tears?
Bern.
Injurious thought!
Bart.
To ease you of your fears,
I will retire: You'll one day know me better.
2
Forgive me, stranger, if, in caution old,
I fear to trust appearance ev'n like thine.
Whence and what art thou?
Bart.
In Wapping's distant realm I drew my breath;
Where long my father held his peaceful sway.
Fir'd with the love of liberty and beer,
Urg'd by Bernardo's friendship, I am come
To offer aid; if aid, so mean as mine,
Can aught avail a cause so great, so just!
Abr.
Say, who thy sire?
Bart.
The old Bartholomëus.
Abr.
Thrice happy omen! Welcome to my arms,
Thou generous son of that brave man I lov'd:
We oft in early youth together work'd,
On the same board together cross-legg'd sat;
In summer cucumbers, in winter cabbages,
Together eat. Oft at the skittle-ground—
Bern.
Consider, Sir, this time admits no pause
For friendship's softer ties: One hour, perhaps,
Decides our utmost fate!
Abr.
Well urg'd, Bernardo.—Say, thou generous youth,
How stands thy state? speak, if in peace or war?
Bart.
In peace profound with all the neighbouring chiefs:
Nor that alone; for amity's strict league
Unites us all.—Far on the adverse coast,
As far as Redriff's ample range extends,
Great Christophorides resides in state.
While Northward, to Whitechapel's awful Mount,
The great Humphryminos, renown'd in arms,
Leads the tremendous sons of Spital-Fields.
3
What are your numbers, and how disciplin'd?
Bart.
Full fifteen hundred men complete in arms.
Abr.
A goodly band!—Now, gallant stranger, hear!
By good intelligence I'm well inform'd,
The tyrant masters meet in close divan,
At the Five Bells. Part of their dark design
Is known, the rest conceal'd: But, I've ta'en care
To place Isaacos, with a chosen band,
Instructed to discover, or disturb
Their inmost councils from their destin'd aim:
Be it thy care to haste Humphryminos
And Christophorides to this night's council;
While each subaltern chief prepares the men.
Bart.
I will, brave chief.—Where is the council held?
Abr.
Why, at the Orange-Tree in White-Hart-Yard.
Bart.
'Till then, farewell!
Abr.
Nay, quick! be Mercury;
Set feathers to thy heels, and fly like thought,
From them, to me again!
Bart.
The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.
[Exit.
Bern.
Spoke like a sprightly Tailor!
Abr.
A gallant youth!
Bernardo, ere the midnight clock has struck,
Be thou with me; some doubts perplex my breast
Which this night's council must or clear or cure.
[Exeunt.
| The Tailors | |