University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Grand Hall in Blechington House. Music is playing, and through folding doors in C. are seen Mrs. Wabble, Horner and Guests at a table.
Enter George Fenwicke R. C. and comes forward, followed by Ticely.
Tice.
Why do you leave the board so suddenly?

Fen.
Because I cannot, with a zealous heart
Pledge the king's health as they are doing now.
Sir, this some time has been my reasoning—
(Albeit to none but you as yet I've own'd it)—
Why should I owe allegiance to a monarch
Who values not my service? why not I
Like to a proud, spurned suitor, turn my zeal
To a more flattering object?

Tice.
True—why not?
I'm glad to know you think so far with me
Who throws a weapon from him should not marvel
If his antagonist assails him with it.
No, you have youthful ardour, which should raise you
High in men's admiration—shall't be crush'd
By non-appreciation? Take appointment
In the re-modell'd army, under Cromwell.

Fen.
But how t' obtain it?

Tice.
I will tell thee that.
Anon I'll join thee.—others are approaching.

(Fenwicke retires, C.
Enter Wabble, R. C. and comes down C.
Wab.

By Jupiter, the gallant Colonel is an incomparable
host, as I said to his wife, if he gives such nuptial festivals as
these, I hope he may marry every year. I never had such a

two days feast: I've laughed till my sides ache, danced till my
legs ache, and eaten till my—

—(Putting his hand on his stomach.)
Tice.

Ah, this is the sugar that cases the matrimonial pill—
it soon dissolves, and then—But you have been some time
married, friend Wabble, and know the dread secrets of the hymeneal
world.

Wab.

Oh, lord bless ye: my dear little wife and I live like
a pair of turtle doves. I've no inconsiderable degree of affection
for her, and she—(bless her!)—doats on me—literally doats
upon me. No jealousy—no wrangling—my word is unquestionable
law. “Do it,” say I, and it is done—now that's comfortable,
isn't it?

Tice.

Oh, very. Is not that your lady, yonder?

Wab.

Yes, that's she, talking with young Captain Horner.

Tice.

Aye, she has been by his side all day Captain Horner
is a promising youth?

Wab.

Well, I think he's a very fine young fellow—of remarkably
prepossessing address.

Tice.

Remarkably so—especially to the ladies.

Wab.

Eh?

Tice.

He boasts that he never fails to create a strong impression.

Wab.

Eh?

Tice.

Either with single or married females.

Wab.

Eh?

Tice.

Did you ever hear the tale of his carrying off the miller's
wife?

Wab.

Eh?

Tice.

Oh, it's true.

Wab.

Is it? (Calling Mrs. W.)
Patty, come here! (Mistress

Wabble leaves Horner, and comes forward, L.)
My dear,
we'll e'en go homeward now.

Mrs. W.

Oh, no—we'll stay until to-morrow. I am but
just beginning thoroughly to enjoy the company.

Wab.

My dear, I say, we'll go.

Mrs. W.

Then e'en go by yourself Master Wabble; I shall
not. But now I promised Captain Horner that I would not
depart until the morrow.

Wab.

Oh, lord! (Aside to Ticely.)
I say, are you sure it
was true respecting the miller's wife?

Tice.

Quite true

Wab.

My love, I insist upon our departure.

Mrs. W.

Insist, sir? Insist! dare to repeat that word, and
I'll never go home again.

Wab.
(Aside to Ticely.)

That Horner's done the mischief
already. Here he comes. (Captain Horner comes down from

back, L. H.)

Hor.
Come, come: in company, a conference
'Twixt man and wife is not allowable.

Wab.
There—there's a doctrine! Is it not allowed?
Then more's the pity, sir: 'twere better
Than that the wife should flirt with libertines—
The miller's wife to wit!

Hor.
The miller's wife
Explain, sir.

Mrs. W.
Yes, explain.

Wab.
(To Ticely.)
Here—you explain.

Tice.
What mean you?

Hor.
Sir, you're drunk.

Mrs. W.
Yes, you're drunk.

Tice.
You're drunk.

Wab.
It's a falsehood!

Mrs. W.
What, dare you, sir, to charge me with a falsehood?

Tice.
Or me, sir?

Hor.
Or dare you say, sir, I affirm a falsehood?

Wab.

What, three on one? I'll neither be bearded nor intimidated:
whoever says I'm drunk, says a lie!

Mrs. W.
(Slaps his face.)

That for your insolence! and for
the rest, tarry till we're at home.

Tice.
You're rightly serv'd.

Hor.
(Pulls his nose.)
And that, sir—

Tice.
Very good.

Wab.
Here—help, here! Murder!

(Guests come forward.)
Enter Colonel Wyndebanke and Fenwicke, R. C.
Col. W.
What, friends at words? How's this? Avoid, I pray,
The evil omen of a bridal feud.
Do ye lack entrrtainment, that dissension
Obtrudes its brawling presence? I have news
Shall furnish fresh discourse. At Islip Bridge
The king's brigade of horse is now encount'ring
A force led on by Cromwell.

Wab.
Islip Bridge!
But five miles hence.

Tice.
If Cromwell is so near
There's danger. We were best depart, and each
Look to the safety of his proper home.

Wab.
I think so too.

First Guest.
And I.

Second Guest.
And I!

Wab.
Egad,
There's no one in my house who, to protect it,
Will cry out “For the Roundheads!” I must go.

Tice.
The Roundheads, Wabble? Wouldst thou shout for them?
I thought thou wert a king'sman.

Wab.
Certainly—
If king'smen are the victors. I do wish
That one or other of these parties would
Gain questionless ascendancy. You see,
These see-saw battles keep a man, as 'twere,
Uncertain of his conscience's inclining.

Col. W.
I would that others lack'd, as thou dost, wit
To hide pusillanimity. Well, friends,
Go hence, if't be your wish; for know, I've pledged
My soldier's honour to King Charles to hold,
To the very last extremity, this house,
Should it e'er be besieg'd. I swore it, friends,
When late his Majesty did honour us
With his most gracious presence, and to the letter
Depend on't will I keep my troth, e'en though
Successful Cromwell plant himself before it.

Wab.
Thank you; we'll go. I think that I may speak
The hearts of all your guests, and say, your fare
Has been most princely. Ha—here comes the bride!
Enter Edith, R. C.
Madam, may all the comforts of your state—
(I mean, of course, the matrimonial state)—
Attend you through the remnant of your life:
Obey and love your husband, and—

Mrs. W.
Come hence:
Don't talk such nonsense.

Wab.
Well, my love, I've done:
So, fare ye well, my friends.

(The Guests take leave: as they are going up the Stage, a Messenger enters hastily, L. C.)
Mes.
Sir—sir, the royal forces have been beaten,
And victor Cromwell comes in hot pursuit!
Without are numbers of the fugitives,
Who crave admittance and protection.

Col. W.
Give it!
Admit as many as you safely may,
But yield no egress; now it is too late.
When they have enter'd, barricade the portal.
(Exit Messenger, L. C.
Friends, now ye must perforce remain with me.

Fen.
And why perforce? Is this like courtesy,
To make us accessary to your measures,
And share their dangers? I can tell you, sir,
You cannot hold this house a three days' siege;
A time sufficient only to exasperate.

Col. W.
(Resolutely.)
I'll hold it, George, until they beard me here—
Here, in my chamber!

Wab.
If it comes to that,
They'll stick us all without an explanation!

Fen.
(Approaching Colonel.)
Soh! Colonel Wyndebanke, your lust of fame
Drowns all consideration of your friends,
Kindred, or wife: all these you'd sacrifice
For---

[_]

(bigot's synonyme)

—that loyalty,
For one who—

Col. W.
Hold, sir! should you dare to speak
One word aspersive of my king, perchance
I may forget you own the honoured title—
My loved wife's brother.

Fen.
You've forgotten that
Already.

Edith.
Husband—brother—be not angered
At such a moment.

Fen.
Anger'd? I'm resolved!
On his own head alight the consequence.
Hence I depart, and who shall stay me?

Col. W.
Go!
Not I. I would not in my walls detain
A waverer in loyalty or valour.

Fen.
(Returning.)
In valour, Wyndebanke—was that your word?
By heaven, I now could find it in my heart—

Edith.
Nay, brother—for my sake, forbear!

Fen.
I will.
(To Colonel.)
Another time you'll answer this foul hint.
Come, sister; if he has a manly heart,
He will not here detain you.

Col. W.
How? my wife!
Wouldst take her hence—my bride of yesterday?
Well, Edith, an' you wish it, go with him.

Edith.
What, leave thee? no! Dear brother, fare you well!
Come weal or woe, where he is, there am I:
Safety without my husband's worse than peril;
With him I dread no danger.

Fen.
Foolish girl!
Remember, sir, that indirectly, you
Have termed me coward! That dissolves all tie
Of new-formed kin. I say, remember it,
For these are times when vengeance may be had
With little seeking. Should it visit you,
Deem it not causeless—you have called me coward!

(Exit U. E. L. H.
Wab.
Come, friends, we'll follow him.

Col. W.
No; I forbid ye.
I cannot change my order, though I've made
Here an exception. I have cogent reasons
For urging ye to tarry.

Wab.
(Imitating Fenwicke.)
Well, that's pleasant!
Now, who shall stop me, sir?

(Swaggering.)
Col. W.
(To Ticely.)
With you I leave
The charge of these, my friends. Come, Edith, with me.
Nay, girl, look not so pale. The King, at Oxford,
Will soon have notice of our present plight.
To those who love our monarch, this detainment
Cannot offend; and those who love him not
Are enemies of mine, and I am heedless
Of their ill-favour.

(Exit with Edith, U. E. R. H.
Wab.

Well, this is devilish pleasant! We are to stay here,
and quietly have our throats cut. No, I will be curst if I do!
I'll go boldly, and have a personal explanation with General
Cromwell. Don't be alarmed, friends; I'll save your lives, or
perish in the attempt!

(Rushes out, U. E. L. H.
Tice.
Ho, there!
Enter Servant, R. H.
Bring back yon fugitive;
Against the Colonel's orders he would leave.
(Exit Servant, U. E. L. H.
Come, Horner, enter thou this chamber—there
Administer some comfort to this lady.
(Horner, Mrs. Wabble, & Guests enter Chamber, 2 E. R. H.
Now to find means to ope the gates to Cromwell;
'Twould pave my way to fortune.

(Servants enter U. E. L. bringing back Wabble.)
Wab.
How dare you, sir, detain me?

Tice.
You must stay!

Serv.

Ay, that must he; for Cromwell, with his whole
force, is now before the gates, and threatens death to the whole
garrison, if the house be not immediately surrendered.

Wab.

Oh, lord! oh, lord! My throat—Mistress Wabble's
throat! Where is she?

Tice.

Trouble not yourself concerning your wife. Captain
Horner has taken charge of her.

Wab.

Eh—what—when—where? Restore her to me! I
won't die dishonoured! Where is Mistress Wabble?

Tice.

Nay, then, we will lock you up alone: you're turbulent!
Come, sir— (Ticely and Servants force Wabble into

another chamber, L. H. as he exclaims loudly “Mrs. Wabble!

Mrs. Wabble!”