Classic Poem

Scene: An assembly.

Several persons at cards, at different tables; among the rest Colonel Trill, Lord Minum, Mrs. Quaver, Sir Patrick Mahony.

(At the Quadrille Table) COL. T.:

Ladies, with leave — 2nd LADY:
Pass! 3rd LADY:
Pass! MRS. Q.:
You must do more. COL. T.:
Indeed I can't. MRS. Q.:
I play in hearts. COL. T.:
Encore. 2nd LADY:
What luck? COL. T.:
Tonight at Drury Lane is played
A comedy, and toute nouvelle — a spade!
Is not Miss Crotchet at the play? MRS. Q.:
My niece
Has made a party, sir, to damn the piece.

(At the Whist Table) LORD M.:

I hate a playhouse. Trump! It makes me sick. 1st LADY:
We're two by honours, Ma'am. LORD M.:
And we the odd trick.
Pray do you know the author, Colonel Trill? COL. T.:
I know no poets, heaven by praised! Spadille! 1st LADY:
I'll tell you who, my Lord. ( Whisper my Lord) LORD M.:
What, he again!
And dwell such daring souls in little men?
Be whose it will, they down our throats will cram it. COL. T.:
O, no — I have a club — the best — we'll damn it. MRS. Q.:
O, bravo, colonel! Music is my flame. LORD M.:
And mine, by Jupiter! — We've won the game. COL. T.:
What, do you love all music? MRS. Q.:
No, not Handel's.

And nasty plays —
Are fit for Goths and Vandals.
(Rise from the table and pay)

(From the Piquet Table) SIR P.:
Well, faith and troth, that Shakespeare was no fool! COL. T.:
I'm glad you like him, sir. So ends the pool.
(Pay and rise from table)

(SONG — by the Colonel)
I hate all their nonsense,
Their Shakespeares and Jonsons,
Their plays and their playhouse and bards.
'Tis singing, not saying —
A fig for all playing —
But playing, as we do, at cards.

I love to see Jonas,
Am pleased too with Comus —
Each well the spectator rewards;
So clever, so neat in
Their tricks and their cheating —
Like them we would fain deal our cards. SIR P.:

King Lare is touching and how fine to see
Ould Hamlet's ghost — " To be, or not to be " .
What are your operas to Othello's roar?
Oh, he's an angel of a blackamoor! LORD M.:
What, when he chokes his wife? COL. T.:
And calls her whore? SIR P.:
King Richard calls his horse and then Macbeth,
Whene'er he murders, takes away the breath.
My blood runs cold at every syllable,
To see the dagger that's invisible. (All laugh)
Laugh if you please. A pretty play — LORD M.:
Is pretty. SIR P.:
And when there's wit in't — COL. T.:
To be sure, 'tis witty. SIR P.:
I love the playhouse now — so light and gay
With all those candles they have ta'en away.
For all your game, what makes it so much brighter COL. T.:
Put out the light and then — LORD M.:
'Tis so much lighter. SIR P.:
Pray, do you mane, sirs, more than you express? COL. T.:
Just as it happens — LORD M.:
Either more or less. MRS. Q.:
Aren't you ashamed, sir? ( To Sir Patrick ) SIR P.:
Me! I seldom blush.
For little Shakespeare, faith, I'd take a push. LORD M.:
News, news! Here comes Miss Crotchet from the play
(Enter Miss Crotchet) MRS. Q.:
Well, Crotchet, what's the news? MISS C.:
We've lost the day. COL. T.:
Tell us, dear Miss, all you have heard and seen. MISS C.:
I'm tired — a chair — here, take my capuchin. LORD M.:
And isn't it damned, Miss? MISS C.:
No, my Lord, not quite.
But we shall damn it. COL. T.:
When? MISS C.:
Tomorrow night.
There is a party of us, all of fashion,
Resolved to exterminate this vulgar passion.
A playhouse — what a place! I must forswear it.
A little mischief only makes one bear it.
Such crowds of city folks, so rude and pressing!
And their horse-laughs so hideously distressing!
Whene'er we hissed they frowned and fell a-swear
Like their own Guildhall giants fierce and staring COL. T.:
What said the folks of fashion? Were they cross? LORD M.:
The rest have no more judgment than my horse. MISS C.:
Lord Grimly swore 'twas execrable stuff.
Says one, " Why so, my Lord? " My Lord took snuff
In the first act Lord George began to doze,
And criticised the author through his nose;
So loud, indeed, that as his lordship snored,
The pity turned round and all the brutes encored.
Some lords, indeed, approved the author's jokes LORD M.:
We have among us, Miss, some foolish folks. MISS C.:
Says poor Lord Simper, " Well, now to my mind
The piece is good. " But he's both deaf and blind SIR P.:
Upon my soul, a very pretty story,
And quality appears in all its glory.
There was some merit in the piece, no doubt. MISS C.:
O, to be sure — if one could find it out. COL. T.:
But tell us, Miss, the subject of the play. MISS C.:
Why, 'twas a marriage — yes — a marriage — stay —
A lord, an aunt, two sisters and a merchant,
A baronet, ten lawyers, a fat serjeant,
Are all produced to talk with one another,
And about something make a mighty pother.
They all go in and out and to and fro,
And talk and quarrel as they come and go;
Then go to bed and then get up and then
Scream, faint, scold, kiss and go to bed again.
(All laugh)
Such is the play. Your judgment? Never sham it. COL. T.:
Oh, damn it! MRS. Q.:
Damn it! 1st LADY:
Damn it! MISS C.:
Damn it! LORD M.:
Damn it! SIR P.:
Well, faith, you speak your minds and I'll be free.
Good night! This company's too good for me.
(Going) COL. T.:
Your judgment, dear Sir Patrick, makes us proud.
(All laugh) SIR P.:
Laugh if you please, but pray don't laugh too loud.
(Exit)

(RECITATIVE) COL.T.:

Now the barbarian's gone, Miss, tune your tongue,
And let us raise our spirits high with song.

(RECITATIVE) MISS. C.:

Colonel, de tout mon coeur — I've one in petto ,
Which you shall join and make it a duetto .

(RECITATIVE) LORD M.:

Bella signora et amico mio,
I too will join and then we'll make a trio . COL. T.:
Come all and join the full-mouthed chorus,
And drive all tragedy and comedy before us.
(All the company rise and advance to the front of the stage)

(AIR) COL. T.:

Would you ever go to see a tragedy? MISS C.:
Never, never. COL. T.:
A comedy? LORD M.:
Never, never.
Live for ever
Tweedledum and Tweedledee! COL. T., LORD M. AND MISS C.:
Live for ever
Tweedledum and Tweedledee!

(CHORUS)

Would you ever go to see etc..