I happen'd at Rascallo's door to knock, In dreadful speech RASC: (RASCALLO, who has been listening at a door in the centre, (CONSCIENZO and GRISKINDA kneel. He points a dagger at the bosom of each. SCRUBINDA rushes in, and holds a rolling-pin over RASCALLO's head. TABLEAU.) SCRUB. Hold! monster, hold! RASC. Hence to thy scullery! SCRUB. Here I'd stay, base bragger, Had'st thou ten hands, and in each hand a dagger. RASC. SCRUB. Never! Then stay, poor blockhead, Till from thy thick skull thy dull brains be knocked. Her soul's as large as any common five! Sweet guardian of the sable pots and pans, I'll make thee mine-so let's proclaim the banns. CONS. GRISK. Good sir, we can't stand kneeling here all day. And further, RASC. Rise, then; you're free. RASC. To give't a zest, we'll season it with murther. GRISK. Now say, Rascallo, whence this fearful rout? SCRUB. First, promise me thou'lt let me keep a carriage. I'll let thee drive, my love, a coach-and-six; CONS. (aside to RASCALLO.) My friend, too rashly spoken. token. Now leave us, love. (Aside.) A woman's like a parrot,- SCRUB. (aside.) To learn what's going on, I'll use this device: RASC. Now, Conscienzo, was this noble?-eh? And filching crowns,-and them 'ere sort o' things? [Exit SCRUBINDA. GRISK. RASC. But swear. GRISK. (kneeling, and with great solemnity.) Upon my word and honour! RASC. Hear then my plan; 'tis ready cut and dried. (To CONS.) Thou and myself, together, side by side, Then to our business-kill, kill, kill, kill, kill; CONS. (pityingly.) And won't you not spare any? (Shows a paper.) No, not none. RASC. CONS. And deck her beauteous form-in sarsnet green, (GRISKINDA starts.) Thou, sweet Griskinda, shalt attend upon her (in a patronising tone), The first and foremost of her dames of honour. I'll keep my word: here 'mongst my mems I set it. (Writes in a pocket-book.) GRISK. (aside.) Now don't he wish her majesty (sneeringly) may get it? RASC. Thee, Conscienzo, will I elevate, And make thee all that's noble, grand, and great: Still shalt thou find me to thy interest partial, So be thou-in short, everything from Archbishop of Canterbury down to City Marshal. CONS. (bowing.) My liege, my king that is to be, I meanGRISK. (aside.) Nor sun nor moon shall e'er behold her queen. CONS. Some slight objections might I dare to start Against thy royal scheme? RASC. With all my heart. CONS. The royal presence how shall we approach? RASC. Well urged — (meditating)-I have't: we'll hire a hackney-coach. CONS. Next, we 've no friends, no money— That's the reason: [Pronounce nuss, &c.] If we were rich, the devil take high treason. CONS. and GRISK. RASC. What? Kill us. [Exit RASCALLO.] CONS. Why did I league with him in this vile plot? Ambition, thou art like I know not what. He that is lured by thy enticements fair Is like the bark that floats- I know not where ; And I am like those rash and daring men Mad with wild schemes, who lived-I know not when. But shall this be? No-no; I'll fall to pray'rs, And kick ambition all the way down stairs. Avaunt, ye very various visions vain! So-Conscienzo is himself again! GRISK. (sneeringly.) 'Tis wisely done! when Fortune kneels be. fore thee, All sparkling in a full-dress suit of glory, Το spurn her favours; and the crown and rule She tenders, to throw from thee like a fool. Thou mewling, puling elf! I'll go and knock his pate about myself. CONS. Hold! I'm resolved. The deed myself I'll do. GRISK. Go kill the King, and the king-killer too (significantly). CONS. I understand thee not, my sweet rose-bud. Speak thy dark meaning. GRISK. [SCRUBINDA appears listening. 'Tis as clear as mud. Dost not perceive? Rascallo mounts the throne, is not yet known. Scrubinda, too O torture! will be queen, CONS. What's to be done? GRISK. Betray them to the King. They'll both be hang'd, or — to be plain- they 'll swing. GRISK. Then? Why, what ought to follow ? We'll kill the King, and win the crown dead-hollow. CONS. O, my Griskinda! 'tis a question which is, Or thou, or I, most fit to wear the small-clothes. GRISK. Then, let us on. CONS. GRISK. But if we fail? We fail. CONS. But should the King make head? GRISK. Still scorn we to turn tail. [Exeunt GRISKINDA and CONSCIENZO. SCRUBINDA comes forward. SCRUB. Now that's what I call neat: the genteel thing— To up and tell our matters to the King! And get me hang'd, and my Rascallo too! Bear up, my woman's heart! Now- what 's to do? - [Exit SCRUBINDA, with a rush. Enter RUMFUSKIN, musing. RUM. Why was I born a king, ah! tell me why Why make a king of these here realms of me? What is a king? - or what, indeed, is man? ye who can. To be a king! what is it, say, but, oh! To wear a crown, and reign supreme in woe. Thou happy shepherd, or thou thoughtless clown, Like other kings I say 't, but like them, too,-I'll not. SONG-RUMFUSKIN. Air-Oh! the days are gone.' Oh! were now a cobbler good, Between that life and mine, what would The cobbler's fed On coarse brown bread, And do no work. Your cobbler's drunk one day in three- Whilst I most royally drunk may be From morn till night. Must be an ass He that would not be A king like me Must be an ass. (A cry of Coachee, Coachee,' by several voices without.) RUM. What means that direful clatter?-Ha! approach! Sire, as I'm alive, I drive no number-'tis a coach I drive. The number of my coach is four-sixteen. RUM. Equivocating slave! 'tis that I mean. (Aside.) The very number!-then our dream is out. FLOG. Thou 'rt a rum-un-go it! RUM. O, insolence! Now, guided by my rage, I'd fain condemn the varlet to the cage; Thence to the Poultry Counter; thence-But, hold; He comes a tale of treason to unfold, And anger must a while to interest bow. (To FLOG.) Now tell me all-each when, each where, each how. FLOG. I will be candid, sire. I come to serve thee: Thou 'rt in a pickle, but 'tis I 'll preserve thee. RUM. Let truth, not puns, o'er what thou say'st prevail. FLOG. Just at the end of Lisle Street, Leicester Square 'Your fare?' said he; said I, ''Tis half-a-crown.' pay so much the spooney was not willing: 'Jarvey,' said he, 'I'll give thee but a shilling."'You won't?' says I; says he, 'Most surely not.' Thinks I, 'Then I 'll expose your honour's plot.' RUM. Right loyal Coachee! (Aside.) How shall I requite him? |