and holds them to the two_ NIECES' _bosoms_.]" _Puff._ There's situation for you! there's an heroic group! —You see the ladies can't stab Whiskerandos—he durst not strike them, for fear of their uncles—the uncles durst not kill him, because of their nieces.—I have them all at a dead lock!—for every one of them is afraid to let go first. _Sneer._ Why, then they must stand there for ever! _Puff._ So they would, if I hadn't a very fine contrivance for't.—Now mind— "_Enter_ BEEFEATER, _with his halbert_. _Beef._ In the queen's name I charge you all to drop Your swords and daggers! [_They drop their swords and daggers_."] _Sneer._ That is a contrivance indeed! _Puff._ Ay—in the queen's name. _Sir Christ._ Come, niece! _Sir Walt._ Come, niece! [_Exeunt with the two_ NIECES.] _Whisk._ What's he, who bids us thus renounce our guard? _Beef._ Thou must do more—renounce thy love! _Whisk._ Thou liest—base Beefeater! _Beef._ Ha! hell! the lie! By Heaven thou'st roused the lion in my heart! Off, yeoman's habit!—base disguise! off! off! [_Discovers himself by throwing off his upper dress, and appearing in a very fine waistcoat._] Am I a Beefeater now? Or beams my crest as terrible as when In Biscay's Bay I took thy captive sloop?" _Puff._ There, egad! he comes out to be the very captain of the privateer who had taken Whiskerandos prisoner—and was himself an old lover of Tilburina's. _Dang._ Admirably managed, indeed! _Puff._ Now, stand out of their way. "_Whisk._ I thank thee, Fortune, that hast thus bestowed A weapon to chastise this insolent. [_Takes up one of the swords_.] _Beef._ I take thy challenge, Spaniard, and I thank thee, Fortune, too! [_Takes up the other sword_.]" _Dang._ That's excellently contrived!—It seems as if the two uncles had left their swords on purpose for them. _Puff._ No, egad, they could not help leaving them. "_Whisk_. Vengeance and Tilburina! _Beef_. Exactly so— [_They fight—and after the usual number of wounds given_, WHISKERANDOS _falls_.] _Whisk_. O cursed parry!—that last thrust in tierce Was fatal.—Captain, thou hast fenced well! And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all eter— _Beef_.—nity—he would have added, but stern death Cut short his being, and the noun at once!" _Puff_. Oh, my dear sir, you are too slow: now mind me.— Sir, shall I trouble you to die again? "_Whisk_. And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all eter— _Beef_.—nity—he would have added,—" _Puff_. No, sir—that's not it—once more, if you please. _Whisk_. I wish, sir, you would practise this without me—I can't stay dying here all night. _Puff_. Very well; we'll go over it by-and-by.—[_Exit_ WHISKERANDOS.] I must humour these gentlemen! "_Beef_. Farewell, brave Spaniard! and when next—" _Puff_. Dear sir, you needn't speak that speech, as the body has walked off. _Beef_. That's true, sir—then I'll join the fleet. _Puff_. If you please.—[Exit BEEFEATER.] Now, who comes on? "_Enter_ GOVERNOR, _with his hair properly disordered_. _Gov_. A hemisphere of evil planets reign! And every planet sheds contagious frenzy! My Spanish prisoner is slain! my daughter, Meeting the dead corse borne along, has gone Distract! [_A loud flourish of trumpets_.] But hark! I am summoned to the fort: Perhaps the fleets have met! amazing crisis! O Tilburina! from thy aged father's beard Thou'st pluck'd the few brown hairs which time had left! [Exit.]" _Sneer_. Poor gentleman! _Puff_. Yes—and no one to blame but his daughter! _Dang_. And the planets— _Puff_. True.—Now enter Tilburina! _Sneer._ Egad, the business comes on quick here. _Puff._ Yes, sir—now she comes in stark mad in white satin. _Sneer._ Why in white satin? _Puff._ O Lord, sir—when a heroine goes mad, she always goes into white satin.—Don't she, Dangle? _Dang._ Always—it's a rule. _Puff._ Yes—here it is—[_Looking at the book_.] "Enter Tilburina stark mad in white satin, and her confidant stark mad in white linen." "_Enter_ TILBURINA _and_ CONFIDANT, _mad, according to custom_." _Sneer._ But, what the deuce! is the confidant to be mad too? _Puff._ To be sure she is: the confidant is always to do whatever her mistress does; weep when she weeps, smile when she smiles, go mad when she goes mad.—Now, Madam Confidant—but keep your madness in the background, if you please. "_Tilb._ The wind whistles—the moon rises—see, They have kill'd my squirrel in his cage: Is this a grasshopper?—Ha! no; it is my Whiskerandos—you shall not keep him—I know you have him in your pocket—An oyster may be cross'd in love!—who says A whale's a bird?—Ha! did you call, my love?—He's here! he's there!—He's everywhere! Ah me! he's nowhere! [_Exit_.]" _Puff._ There, do you ever desire to see anybody madder than that? _Sneer._ Never, while I live! _Puff._ You observed how she mangled the metre? _Dang._ Yes,—egad, it was the first thing made me suspect she was out of her senses! _Sneer._ And pray what becomes of her? _Puff._ She is gone to throw herself into the sea, to be sure—and that brings us at once to the scene of action, and so to my catastrophe—my sea-fight, I mean. _Sneer._ What, you bring that in at last? _Puff._ Yes, yes—you know my play is called _The Spanish Armada_; otherwise, egad, I have no occasion for the battle at all.—Now then for my magnificence!—my battle!—my noise!—and my procession!—You are all ready? _Und. Promp_. [_Within._] Yes, sir. _Puff_. Is the Thames dressed? "_Enter_ THAMES _with two_ ATTENDANTS." _Thames_. Here I am, sir. _Puff_. Very well, indeed!—See, gentlemen, there's a river for you!—This is blending a little of the masque with my tragedy—a new fancy, you know—and very useful in my case; for as there must be a procession, I suppose Thames, and all his tributary rivers, to compliment Britannia with a fete in honour of the victory. _Sneer_. But pray, who are these gentlemen in green with him? _Puff_. Those?—those are his banks. _Sneer_. His banks? _Puff_. Yes, one crowned with alders, and the other with a villa!—you take the allusions?—But hey! what the plague!—you have got both your banks on one side.—Here, sir, come round.— Ever while you live, Thames, go between your banks.—[_Bell rings._] There; so! now for't!—Stand aside, my dear friends!—Away, Thames! [_Exit_ THAMES _between his banks._] [_Flourish of drums, trumpets, cannon, &c., &'c. Scene changes to the sea—the fleets engage—the music plays—"Britons strike home."—Spanish fleet destroyed by fire-ships, &c.—English fleet advances—music plays, "Rule Britannia."—The procession of all the English rivers, and their tributaries, with their emblems, &c., begins with Handel's water music, ends with a chorus to the march in Judas' Maccabaeus.—During this scene,_ PUFF _directs and applauds everything—then_ _Puff_. Well, pretty well—but not quite perfect. So, ladies and gentlemen, if you please, we'll rehearse this piece again to-morrow. [_Curtain drops._]

THE END