SMITH. Oh, ho! so then you make the struggle
|to be after the business is done?||105|
SMITH. Oh, I conceive you. That, I swear, is very natural.
Enter four men at one door, and four at another, with their swords drawn.
1ST SOLDIER. Stand! Who goes there?
2D SOLDIER. A friend.
1ST SOLDIER. What friend?
2D SOLDIER. A friend to the house.
1ST SOLDIER. Fall on! 5
(They all kill one another. Music strikes.)
BAYES (to the music). Hold, hold! (It ceaseth.) Now, here's an odd surprise: all these dead men you shall see rise up presently, at a certain note that I have made, in Effaut2flat, and fall a-dancing. Do
|you hear, dead men? (To the music.) Re-||10|
(The music plays his note, and the dead men rise; but cannot get in order.)
O Lord, O Lord! -- Out, out, out! -- Did ever men spoil a good thing so? no figure, no ear, no time,
|nothing! Udzookers, you dance worse than||15|
1ST SOLDIER. Why, sir, 'tis impossible to do anything in time, to this tune.
|BAYES. O Lord, O Lord! Impossible? why,||20|
|it begins swift, and ends slow. You talk of||25|
(As he rises up hastily, he falls down again.)
|-- Ah, gadsookers! I have broke my nose.4||30|
JOHNSON. By my troth, Mr. Bayes, this is a very unfortunate note of yours, in Effaut.
BAYES. A plague of this damned stage, with your nails and your tenter-hooks, that a gentleman can
|not come to teach you to act but he must break||35|
SMITH. No indeed, sir; I don't usually carry any about me.
2D SOLDIER. Sir, I'll go get you some within 40 presently.
BAYES. Go, go then; I follow you. Pray, dance out the dance, and I'll be with you in a moment. Remember you dance like horsemen. Exit BAYES.
|*SMITH. Like horsemen! What a plague can||45|
(They dance the dance, but can make nothing of it.)
1ST SOLDIER. A devil! let's try this no longer. Play my dance that Mr. Bayes found fault with so.
Dance, and exeunt.
SMITH. What can this fool be doing all this while
|about his nose?||50|
JOHNSON. Prithee, let's go see. Exeunt.
BAYES with a paper on his nose, and the two Gentlemen.
BAYES. Now, sirs, this I do because my fancy, in this play, is to end every act with a dance.5
SMITH. Faith, that fancy is very good, but I should hardly have broke my nose for it, though.
|JOHNSON. That fancy, I suppose, is new, too.||5|
BAYES. Sir, all my fancies are so. I tread upon no man's heels, but make my flight upon my own wings, I assure you. Now, here comes in a scene of sheer wit, without any mixture in the whole world,
|'y gad, between Prince Pretty-man and his||10|
|with a repartee; then he at him again, dash!||15|
(Goes to call the Players.)
SMITH. What a plague does this fop mean by his snip snap, hit for hit, and dash?
|JOHNSON. Mean? why, he never meant any-||20|
BAYES. Why don't you come in?
Enter PRINCE PRETTY-MAN and TOM THIMBLE.
BAYES. This scene will make you die with laughing, if it be well acted; for 'tis as full of drollery as
|ever it can hold: 'tis like an orange stuffed with||25|
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Publication information: Book title: British Dramatists from Dryden to Sheridan. Contributors: George Henry Nettleton - Editor, Arthur Eillicot Case - Editor. Publisher: Boston ; Houghton Mifflin company,.. Place of publication: Boston; New York. Publication year: 1939. Page number: 52.
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