Chapter XXIX: Act IV: Prologue

Chorus.

Now entertain conjecture of a time
When creeping murmur and the poring dark
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
From camp to camp through the foul womb of night
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fixed sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each others watch:
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other’s umber’d face;
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night’s dull ear, and from the tents
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.

――――:o:――――

LORD MAYOR’S DAY (1827).

Now countless turbots and unnumbered soles
Fill the wide kitchens of each livery hall:
From pot to spit, to kettle, stew, and pan,
The busy hum of greasy scullions sounds,
That the fixed beadles do almost perceive
The secret dainties of each others watch.
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each table sees the other’s bill of fare:
Cook threatens cook in high and saucy vaunt
Of rare and new-made dishes; confectioners,
Both pastrycooks and fruiterers in league,
With candied art their rivets closing up,
Give pleasing notice of a rich dessert.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

On November 21, 1866, an Extravaganza, founded on the above tragedy, was produced at the Haymarket Theatre, London, then under the management of Mr. J. B. Buckstone. This burlesque was entitled “Antony and Cleopatra; or, His-tory and Her-story in a modern nilo-metre,” by F. C. Burnand, and the principal parts were played by Mr. and Mrs. Charles Matthews, Mr. Compton, Mr. Rogers, and Mr. Clark. The best parody it contained was that of the well-known passage descriptive of the meeting of Antony and Cleopatra on the river of Cydnus, commencing thus:――

“The barge she sat in, like a burnish’d throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar’d all description: she did lie
In her pavilion――cloth-of-gold of tissue――
O’er-picturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colour’d fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.”

In the Burlesque _Lepidus_ enquires:――

Tell me how they met?

_Eros._ I will: And first then you must know that Marc
Met Cleopatra driving in the park.
The trap she sat in, like the Sun-God’s car,
Shone in the drive, the seats were damask white,
Tawny the rugs, and all so scented, that
The swells sniffed curiously. Her whip of silver,
Half parasol, which dared the sun; and flicked
The ponies, which she beat to trot the faster,
As amorous of her lash. For her own person
It beggared all description; she reclined
Upon those cushions I’ve described before,
And high in front, and round, rose dangerous waves
Of foaming frothy muslin petticoats,
Art’s fancy outworks: in the seat behind her
Sat two quick natty boys, like perky Cupids,
With white pip’d breeches and pale salmon tops,
To guard whose knees a pretty oilskin apron
They both undid and did.

_Lepi._ O rare for Anthony!

_Eros._ And when she’d pass’d, young Egypt at the rails
Look’d in each other’s eyes, then after _her_,
Then gazed about at――well, they knew not what,
As dazed as is the poor unlatch-key’d husband
After a late carousal, when his spouse,
Candle in hand, unchains the guardian door;
So they: so Anthony: who whipped and spurred
Up to her side, and _whip-spered_ in her ear
Soft nothings, which, though nothing in themselves,
Lead oft――

_Lepi._ Sir, I’m the father of a family.
Never could Tony pretty woman’s lip shun,
No wonder he was caught by this Egyptian.

In the end, Cleopatra, instead of being stung by an asp, as in the tragedy, pretends to commit suicide by the use of a Pharoah’s serpent.

HAMLET.

BENJAMIN CÆSAR REDIVIVUS.

(_On the happy recovery of Lord Beaconsfield from an attack of gout._)

Ben Dizzy patch’d and mended for to-day,
Not like old Cæsar, dead and turned to clay,
Will still go on in his corrupting play,
Nor “stop a hole to keep the wind away.”

_Fiz_, January 18, 1879.

――――:o:――――

THE SPANIARD’S SOLILOQUY.

To fight or not to fight, that is the question,
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind
To bear a patient drubbing by the French
Or take up arms against old Louis
And by opposing end him
And exterminate the Bourbons?
To fight――to beat――no more;
And by our beating end a thousand ills
Which we were born to.
’Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.
To fight――to beat――perchance to be beat
Ah! there’s the rub.
For by our being beat what ills may come;
There’s the respect that makes our liberty so dear,
For who would bear the sneers and scoffs of tyrants,
The oppressor’s wrong, the insolence of office
When we can still our liberty maintain
With the bare rapier?
Who would mind our constitution being altered
But that a dread of something more
(That _Alliance_ from whose unholy laws
No state is free) puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear these ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of.

_The Mirror_, April 5, 1823.

――――:o:――――

A FISHERMAN’S SOLILOQUY.

To sniggle or to dibble, that’s the question!
Whether to bait a hook with worm or bumble,
Or to take up arms of any sea, some trouble
To fish, and then home send them. To fly, to whip――
To moor and tie my boat up by the end
To any wooden post, or natural rock
We may be near to, on a Preservation
Devoutly to be fished. To fly――to whip――
To whip! perchance two bream; and there’s the chub!
* * * * *
F. C. BURNAND.

As a singular instance of the popularity of Hamlet’s famous Soliloquy, it may be mentioned that a Hebrew version of it was printed in 1880, in _Kottabos_, a College journal published in Dublin.

――――:o:――――

THE DANISH WAR.
(_From our own Correspondent._)

Elsinore, May 20, 1848.

The army under General Fortinbras remains inactive. The
Crown Prince Hamlet has been appointed to the command, but
he is in a state of doubt as to whether he ought to accept
it. A good many intrigues are believed to exist at the
Danish Court, and two noblemen named Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern are suspected of being employed on a delicate
and dangerous mission. Gertrude, the Queen, does not appear
to enjoy good health, and rumours are rife of violent scenes
between her and Hamlet. The death of the late Lord
Chamberlain does not seem to have been at all satisfactorily
accounted for; and the consequent derangement of his
daughter, who it appears has been going about singing very
improper songs, has occasioned a great deal of scandal. The
King, however, swills his draught of Rhenish down as usual,
and even had some private theatricals lately. The monarch,
however, could not sit out the first piece, and no wonder,
for _entre nous_ being legitimate it was awfully slow.
Meantime Hamlet’s conduct is quite unaccountable: some
people hint that he is mad; and the fact of his having got
up a cock-and-bull story of a ghost, which he says is always
walking about with a certain MARSHALL STALK, supposed to be
a Prussian from the name, would seem to countenance the
theory. For my own part, whether he be mad or no, I think
his proceedings very stupid and tiresome.

_The Man in the Moon._――Vol. III, 1848.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

SONG.

_Balthasar_,――Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leafy:
Then sigh not so, &c.

――――――――

NOCTES AMBROSIANÆ.

Rail no more, Tories, rail no more;
Whigs are but asses ever,
On land, on wave, on sea, on shore,
All rascals of white liver.
Then rail not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting sounds of wrath and woe
Into hey Ninny! nonny.

Sing merry ditties, and no mo
Of lumps so dull and heavy;
The heads of Whigs were ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then rail not so, &c.

_Blackwood’s Magazine_, July, 1823.
――――:o:――――

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING IN THE CITY.

Sigh no more, dealers, sigh no more,
Shares were unstable ever,
They often have been down before,
At high rates constant never.
Then sigh not so,
Soon up they’ll go,
And you’ll be blithe and funny,
Converting all your notes of woe
Into hey, money, money.

Write no more letters, write no mo
On stocks so dull and heavy.
At times on ’Change ’tis always so,
When bears a tribute levy.
Then sigh not so,
And don’t be low,
In sunshine you’ll make honey,
Converting all your notes of woe
Into hey money, money.

_Punch_, September 28, 1867.

THE TEMPEST.

“The Enchanted Isle; or Raising the Wind on the most approved principles; a Drama without the smallest claim to Legitimacy, Consistency, Probability, or anything else but absurdity; in which will be found much that is unaccountably coincident with Shakespeare’s ‘_Tempest_.’” This burlesque, written by the Brothers R. B. and W. Brough, was first performed at the Adelphi Theatre, London, on Monday, November 26, 1848. Beyond the general foundation of the plot, it contains no parodies of Shakespeare, but is full of allusions to the political revolutions and events of 1848, and has many parodies of songs which were then popular, but which are now, for the most part, obsolete. It was no doubt a very amusing burlesque, having a good deal of lively music, songs, and dances, and the cast was a powerful one, including Paul Bedford, Miss Woolgar, Madame Celeste, and O. Smith. It was afterwards revived at the Haymarket Theatre, when Miss P. Horton, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, Mr. Buckstone, Mr. Rogers, and Mr. Clark performed the leading parts. The following amusing parody of the Ghost-scene in “Hamlet” was spoken as a