George Colman

“ Och! what a piece of work a little trimming and drapery makes in a good fellow's fancy! A foot is a foot, all the world over;—but take the foot of the sweetest little creature that ever tripped over green sward, and if it doesn't play at bo-peep under a petticoat—'faith, I don't know the reason of it; but it gives a clean contrary turn to a man's imagination. But what is it you would be after now, Lady Julia?
Julia. Something I will do; and it must be speedy: at all hazards, we will to the English camp, O'Carrol:—opportunity must shape the rest. ”

“ Countrymen, fellow soldiers, and Frenchmen!—be of good cheer, for famine is come upon you, and you are all in danger of starving. Is there any thing dearer to a Frenchman than his honour? Isn't honour the greater, the greater the danger? and has any body ever had the honour of being in greater danger than you?—Rejoice, then, for your peril is extreme! Be merry, for you have a glorious dismal prospect before you; and as pleasing a state of desperation as the noble heart of a soldier could wish! ”

“ Madelon. Nay, now, La Gloire, my father meant not——
La Gloire. Marry, I would tell your father this to his teeth; which, were it not for my captain and me—two soldiers, mark you me—might not, haply, have been so soon set a going.
Madelon. Ungenerous! I could not have spoken such cutting words to you, La Gloire.—My poor father only meant, that the wars might separate us. But I had a remedy for that, too, for all your unkindness. ”

“ THE SURRENDER OF CALAIS.
ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. A View of Calais, the Sea, and the English Camp.
Enter Ribaumont and La Gloire.
Ribau. Thus far in safety. All is hush. Our subtle air of France quickens not the temperament of the enemy. These phlegmatic English snore out the night, in as gross heaviness as when their senses stagnate in their own native fogs, where stupor lies like lead upon them,—which the muddy rogues call sleep. We have nearly passed the entrenchments;—the day breaks.—La Gloire! ”

“ Julia. Thou hast been a trusty follower, O'Carrol; nay, more a friend than follower; thou art entwined in all the interests of our house, and art as attached to me as to my father.
O'Carrol. Ay, troth, Lady Julia, and a good deal more; more shame to me for it; because I am indebted for all to the Governor. I don't know how it may be with wiser nations, but if regard is to go to a whole family, there's a something about the female part of it that an Irishman can't help giving the preference to, for the soul of him. ”

“ La Gloire. A snack! a bare snack, father; no more. We scudded round the point of land, under the coast, unperceived by the enemy's fleet, and freighted with a good three days' provender: but the sea, that seems ruled by the English—marry, I think they'll always be masters of it, for my part—stuck the point of a rock through the bottom of our vessel, almost filled it with water, and, after tugging hard for our lives, we found the provision so spoiled, and pickled, that our larder is reduced to a luncheon. Every man may have a meal, and there's an end;—to-morrow comes famine again. ”

“ O'Carrol. Och! be asey, madam; we'll take the ould fellow by the forelock, I warrant him. When honest gentlemen's business calls them on a small walk to the gallows, a man may set out a quarter of an hour behind them, and be certain of meeting them upon the road:—and, now I bethink me, madam, if we go out at the draw-bridge, from the citadel, hard by the house here, we may be at the camp, ere the poor souls have marched their body round the battlements.
Julia. Thou say'st well; and we will forth that way:
'Twill be most private too. Thou'lt follow me, O'Carrol? ”

“ No, La Gloire,—I——
La Gloire. No, my lord! 'tis fear for you makes me bold to speak. To see you running your head through stone walls for a woman—and a woman who, though she be an angel, has (saving your presence) played you but a scurvy sort of a jade's trick; and——
Ribau. 'Sdeath, villain! how dare your slanderous [11] tongue to—but 'tis plain—'tis for thy own wretched sake thou art thus anxious—drivelling coward!
La Gloire. Coward!—Cow——Diable!—a French soldier, who has the honour to carry arms under his christian majesty, Philip the Sixth, King of France, called coward! ”

“ Hardy, tho' modest, stands the winter's frost,
And cheers its owner's eye with evergreen!
O'Carrol. Troth, lady, one honest potatoe in a garden is worth an hundred beds of your good-for-nothing tulips. Oh! 'tis meat and drink to me to see a friend! and, truly 'tis lucky, in this time of famine, to have one in the house to look at, to keep me from starving. ”

“ La Gloire. So: one kiss for a bonne bouche.— [Kisses her.] —Dost love me the better for this feast, now, Madelon?
Madelon. No, truly, not a jot. I love you e'en as well before dinner as after.
La Gloire. What a jewel is regular affection!—to love, equally, through the week, maigre days, and [31] all! I cannot but own a full meal makes an improvement in the warmth of my feelings. I can eat and drink myself into a glow of tenderness, that fasting can never come up to. And what hast thou done in my absence, Madelon?
Madelon. Little, La Gloire, but grieve with the rest. I have thought on you ”

“ Would volunteer it on the scaffold?
Eust. [Rises.] I:——
E'en I;—the growling knave, whom children point at.
To save those children, and their hapless mothers,
To snatch the virgin from the ravisher,
To shield the bent and hoary citizen,
To push the sword back from his aged throat,
(Fresh reeking, haply, in his house's blood,)
I render up myself for sacrifice.——
Will no one budge? Then let the English in;
Let in the enemy, to find us wasted,
And winking in the socket. Rouse, for shame!
Rouse, citizens! Think on your wives, your infants! ”

“ SCENE III. A Hall, in the House of John de Vienne.
Enter Julia and O'Carrol.
Julia. Now, O'Carrol; what is the time of day?
O'Carrol. Fait, Lady Julia, we might have called it a little past breakfast time, formerly; but since the fashion of eating has been worn out in Calais, a man may be content to say it bears hard upon ten. Och! if clocks were jacks now, time would stand still; and the year would go down, for the want of winding up every now and then. ”

“ Julia. How looked he, O'Carrol?
O'Carrol. By my soul! Lady Julia, that old father of yours, and master of mine, is a gallant gentleman. And gallantly he bears himself. For certain, and so he ought; being a Knight of Burgundy, and Governor [22] of Calais; but if I was Governor just now, to be sure I should not like to take a small trip from Calais, one morning, just to see what sort of a knight I was in Burgundy.
Julia. Who has he in his company?
O'Carrol. Why, madam, why—now dare not I tell who, for fear of offending her.—Company? ”

“ La Gloire. I must, Madelon; I must. The throng will press, and—and I may lose somewhat of value. 'Tis seldom a soldier's pocket is heavy; but I carry all my worldly goods about me. I would fain not lose it; so e'en be mistress on't till my return. Here is a casket;—with five years' wages from my captain; three quarters' pay from my regiment; and eleven marks, plucked from the boot of a dead English corporal: 'tis my whole fortune; keep it, Madelon, for fear of accidents: and if any cross accident ever should befall me, remember, you are heir apparent to the bulk of my property. ”

“ But to reconcile a mistress by victualling a town!—Well; dark and puzzling is the road to woman's affection; but this is the first time I ever heard of sliding into her heart through her palate; or choking her anger, by stopping her mouth with a meal. An' this pantry fashion of wooing should last, woe to the ill-favoured! Beauty will raise the price of provisions, and poor ugliness soon be starved out of the country. ”

“ The camp?—O, 'faith, that's my element; and Heaven send us success in it! If an Irishman's prayers, lady, could make you happy, your little heart should soon be as light as a feather-bed.
Julia. I thank thee, my honest fellow: thy care for me shall not long go unrewarded.
O'Carrol. Now the devil fetch rewarding, say I! If a man does his best friends a piece of service, he must be an unconscionable sort of an honest fellow, to [53] look for more reward than the pleasure he gets in assisting them.
Julia. Well, well! each moment now is precious! Haste thee, O'Carrol; Time has wings. ”

“ La Gloire standing near the Table.
La Gloire. Blessings on her heart, how cleverly she feeds! the meat goes as naturally into her little mouth, as if it had been used to the road all the time of the famine: though, Heaven knows, 'tis a path that has, lately, been little frequented.
Madelon. A votre santé, mon ami;—your health, La Gloire.
[Drinks.
La Gloire. Nay, I'll answer thee in that, though bumpers were Englishmen, and went against my French stomach. [Takes Wine.] Heaven bless thee, my poor Madelon! May a woman never tumble into the mire of distress ”

“ King Edward and Queen seat themselves on a Throne, erected in the Camp, on the occasion of the Execution.
Enter Eustache de St. Pierre, with the Keys; Ribaumont, La Gloire, John d'Aire, J. Wissant, and P. Wissant, with Halters round their Necks; a Multitude of French following.
King. Are these the six must suffer?
Eust. Suffer!—no:——
We do embrace our fate: we glory in't.
They who stand forward, sir, to yield their lives,
A willing forfeit, for their country's safety,
When they meet death, meet honour, and rejoice
In the encounter. ”

“ Pierre you are; one of the sourest old crabs of all the citizens of Calais; and, if reviling your neighbours be a sign of ill will to one's country, and ill will to one's country a sign of good will to strangers, why a man might go near to think you are a friend to the English. ”

“ Allons! vite!—away! away!
[Exeunt Citizens hastily.
La Gloire. Oh diable! this is popularity. Adieu, my grateful neighbours! Thus does many a fool-hardy booby, like me, run his head into danger; and [21] a few empty huzzas, which leave him at the next turning of a corner, are all he gets for his pains. Now, while all the town is gone to dinner, will I go to woo. My poor Madelon must be woefully fallen away, since I quitted Calais, Heigho! ”

“ Madelon. Well-a-day! a soldier's wife must have a [35] fearful time on't. Yet do I love La Gloire; he is so kind, so tender!—and he has, simply, the best leg in the army. Heigho!—It must feel very odd to sleep in a tent:—a camp must be ever in alarms, and soldiers always ready for surprise.—Dame Toinette, who married a corporal, ere I was born, told me, that, for one whole campaign, her husband went to bed in his boots. ”

“ In this drama are comprised tragedy, comedy, opera, and some degree of farce—yet so happily is the variety blended, that one scene never diminishes the interest of another, but they all combine to produce a most valuable composition. ”

“ La Gloire faces to the Left, and marches out after Ribaumont.
SCENE II. The Place, in the Town of Calais.
Enter an Officer, Sergeant, and Soldiers.—Citizens enter severally during the Scene.
Officer. Bravely, good fellows! Courage! Why, still there's life in't. Sergeant!
Serg. Your honour!
Officer. How do the men bear up? Have they stout hearts still?
Serg. I know not, sir, for their hearts; but I'll warrant them stout stomachs. Hunger is so powerful in them, that I fear me they'll munch their way through the stone walls of the city.
Officer. This famine pinches. Poor rogues! ”

“ O'Carrol. And, sink or swim, I'll to the bottom along with you.—Och! what a sad thing it is to see sorrow wet the sweet cheeks of a woman! Faith, now, I can't make out that same crying, for the life of me. My sorrow is always of a dry sort; that gives me a sore throat, without ever-troubling my eyes about the business. The camp! Well, with all my heart: it won't be the first time I have been present at a bit of a bustle.
[54]
SONG.—O'CARROL.
When I was at home, I was merry and frisky ”

“ I think 'tis thy good luck.
1 Work. Tut, I will tell thee. My parents, I thank them, bred me to the gallows: marry, then, how was it?—why, look you, I took delight in my business.—An you would be a good workman, ever, while you live, take a delight in your business. I have been an honest, pains-taking man, neighbour. No one is notorious, without taking pains for it. ”

“ Hope, your honour, is but a meagre mess for a regiment. Hope has almost shrunk them out of their doublets. Hope has made their legs so weary of the lease they had taken of their hose, that all their calves have slunk away from the premises. There isn't a stocking in the whole company that can boast of a tolerable tenant. The privates join in the public complaining; the drummers grow noisy; our [13] poor corporal has no body left ”

“ So eight years I fought, without Corporal Casey.
[Exit.
[55]
SCENE II. The English Camp.
A Scaffold in the Back of the Scene: Two Workmen descend from it.
1 Work. There 'tis;—and finished: as pleasing a piece of work, as man could wish to turn out of hand. If King Edward, (Heaven bless him!) give me not a pension for this, let'n make the next scaffold himself. Mass! I would (with reverence be it spoken) , build a scaffold, and fix a gallows, with any king in Christendom.
2 Work. Yea, marry, if he had not served his time to the trade. ”

“ I attend.—Oh, Julia!
[Exit, leading out Julia.
O'Carrol. Och ho! poor dear creatures, my heart bleeds for them. To be sure the ould gentleman means all for the best, and what he talks must be right: but if love is a gew-gaw, as he says, by my soul! 'tis the prettiest plaything for children, from sixteen to five-and-twenty, that ever was invented!
[Exit.
[27]
SCENE IV. The English Camp.
Enter King, Sir Walter Manny, Harcourt, Arundel, Warwick, and Attendants. ”