Inchbald, Elizabeth. Such Things Are. Eds. Gioia Angeletti and Thomas C. Crochunis, with an Introduction by Gioia Angeletti. British Women Playwrights around 1800. 15 May 2003.
Act I - Act II - Act III - Act IV - Act V - Main Page
ACT V.
SCENE I. [The Prison. Haswell and the female Prisoner discovered.]
Haswell.
Rather remain in this loathsome prison!— refuse the blessing offered you!—the blessing your pleased fancy formed so precious you durst not even trust its reality!Pris.
No—while my pleased fancy only saw the prospect, I own it was delightful; but now reason beholds it within my reach, the view is changed—and what, in the gay dream of fond delirium, seemed a blessing, in my waking hours of sad reflection would prove the most severe of punishments.Has.
Explain—what is the cause that makes you think thus?Pris.
A cause that has alone for fourteen years made me resigned to a fate like this.—When you first mentioned my release from this drear place, my wild ideas included, with the light, all that had ever made the light a blessing—'twas not the sun I saw in my mad transport, but a lost husband filled my roving fancy—'twas his idea that gave the colours of the world their beauty, and made me fondly hope to grasp its sweets.Has.
A husband!Pris.
But the world that I was wont to enjoy with him—to see again without him—every well-known object would wound my mind with dear remembrances for ever lost, and make my freedom torture.Has.
But yet—Pris.
Oh! on my knees a thousand times I have thanked Heaven that he partook not of this dire abode—that he shared not with me my hard usage!—a greater blessing I possess'd from that, than all his loved society cou'd have given—but in a happy world, where smiling nature pours her boundless gifts!—oh! there his loss wou'd be unsufferable.Has.
Do you lament him dead?Pris.
Yes—or, like me, a prisoner—else he wou'd have sought me out—have sought his Arabella!—[Haswell starts.]—Why do you start?Has.
Are you a Christian?—an European?Ara.
I am.Has.
The name made me suppose it.—I am shocked that—the Christian's sufferings—[Trying to conceal his surprise.]—but were you made a prisoner in the present Sultan's reign?Ara.
Yes, or I had been set free on his ascent to the throne; for he gave pardon to all the enemies of the slain monarch: but I was taken in a vessel, where I was hurried in the heat of the battle with a party of the late Emperor's friends—and all the prisoners were by the officers of the present Sultan sent to slavery, or confined, as I have been, in hopes of ransom from their friends.Has.
And did never intelligence or inquiry reach you from your husband?Ara.
Never.Has.
Never?Ara.
I once was informed of a large reward for the discovery of a female Christian, and, with boundless hopes, asked an interview with the messenger; but found, on inquiry, I could not answer his description, as he secretly informed me it was the Sultan who made the search for one he himself had known and dearly loved.Has.
Good Heaven!—[Aside.]—You then conclude your husband dead?Ara.
I do;—or, like me, by some mischance, taken with the other party, and having no friend to plead his cause before the Emperor, whom he served—Has.
I'll plead it—should I ever chance to find him—but, ere we can hope for other kindness, you must appear before the Sultan—thank him for the favour which you now decline, and tell the cause why you cannot accept it.Ara.
Alas! almost worn out with sorrow—an object of affliction as I am—in pity, excuse me— present my thanks—my humble gratitude—but pardon my attendance.Has.
Nay, you must go—it is necessary—I will accompany you to him.—Retire a moment; but when I send, be ready.Ara.
I shall obey. [She bows obediently, and exit.[As Haswell comes down, Elvirus places himself in his path—Haswell stops, looks at him with an austere earnestness, which Elvirus observing, turns away his face.
Elv.
Nay, reproach me—I can bear your anger, but do not let me meet your eye—Oh! it is more awful, now I know who you are, than if you had kingdoms to disperse, or could deal instant death.—[Haswell looks on him with a manly firmness, then walks on, Elvirus following him.]— I do not plead for my father now.—Since what has passed, I only ask forgiveness.Has.
Do you forgive yourself?Elv.
I never will.Enter Keeper.
Keep.
One of our prisoners, who, in his cell, makes the most pitious moans, has sent to entreat that Mr. Haswell will not leave this place till he has heard his complaints and supplications.Has.
Bring me to him. [Going.Elv.
Nay, leave me not thus—perhaps never to see you more!—Has.
You shall see me again—in the mean time, reflect on what you merit. [Exit with Keeper.Elv.
And what is that?—Confusion!—and yet, he says, I am to see him again—speak with him.—Oh! there's a blessing to the most abandoned, a divine propensity (they know not why) to commune with the virtuous! [Exit.
SCENE II. [The first Prison Scene. Enter second Keeper, Haswell following.]
Has.
Where is the poor unfortunate?2d Keep.
Here, Sir.Has.
Am I to behold greater misery still?—a still greater object of compassion? [Second Keeper opens a door, and Twineall enters a prisoner, in one of the prison dresses.Has.
What have we here?Twi.
Don't you know me, Mr. Haswell?Has.
I beg your pardon, Sir—I beg your pardon—but is it?—is it?—Twi.
Why, Mr. Haswell—if you don't know me, or won't know me, I shall certainly lose my senses.Has.
O, I know you—know you very well.Twi.
What, notwithstanding the alteration in my dress?—there was a hard thing!Has.
O, I'll procure you that again—and, for all things else, I'm sure you will have patience.Twi.
O, no, I can't—upon my soul I can't.— I want a little lavender water—My hair is in such a trim too!—No powder—no brushes—Has.
I will provide you with them all.Twi.
But who will you provide to look at me, when I am dress'd?Has.
I'll bring all your acquaintance.Twi.
I had rather you wou'd take me to see them.Has.
Pardon me.Twi.
Dear Mr. Haswell!—Dear Sir!—Dear friend!—What shall I call you?—Only say what title you like best, and I'll call you by it directly—I always did love to please every body—and I am sure at this time I stand more in need of a friend than ever I did in my life.Has.
What has brought you here?Twi.
Trying to get a place.Has.
A place?Twi.
Yes; and you see I have got one—and a poor place it is!—in short, Sir, my crime is said to be an offence against the state; and they tell me no friend on earth but you can get that remitted.Has.
Upon my word, the pardons. I have obtained are for so few persons—and those already promised—Twi.
O, I know I am no favourite of yours— you think me an impertinent, silly, troublesome fellow, and that my conduct in life will be neither of use to my country nor of benefit to society.Has.
You mistake me, Sir—I think such glaring imperfections as yours are, will not be of so much disadvantage to society as those of a less-faulty man.—In beholding your conduct, thousands shall turn from the paths of folly, to which fashion, custom, nature, (or call it what you will) impels them;—therefore, Mr. Twineall, if not pity for your faults, yet a concern for the good effect they may have upon the world (shou'd you be admitted there again) will urge me to solicit your return to it.Twi.
Sir, you have such powers of oratory— what a prodigious capital quality!—and I doubt not but you are admired by the world equally for that—Enter Messenger to Haswell.
Mess.
Sir, the Sultan is arrived in the council chamber, and has sent me. [Whispers.Has.
I come.—Mr. Twineall, farewell for the present. [Exit with Messenger.Twi.
Now, what was that whisper about?— Oh, heavens! perhaps my death in agitation.— I have brought myself into a fine situation!— done it by wheedling too!2d Keep.
Come, your business with Mr. Haswell being ended, return to your cell. [Roughly.Twi.
Certainly, Sir—certainly!—O, yes!— How happy is this prison in having such a keeper as you!—so mild, so gentle—there is something about you,—I said, and I thought the moment I had the happiness of meeting you here,—Dear me!—what wou'd one give for such a gentleman as him in England!—You wou'd be of infinite service to some of our young bucks, Sir.2d Keep.
Go to your cell—go to your cell. [Roughly.Twi.
This world wou'd be nothing without elegant manners, and elegant people in all stations of life.—[Enter Messenger, who whispers second Keeper.]—Another whisper! [Terrified.2d Keep.
No; come this way.—The judge is now sitting in the hall, and you must come before him.Twi.
Before the judge, Sir—O, dear Sir!— what, in this deshabille?—in this coat?—Dear me!—but to be sure one must conform to customs—to the custom of the country where one is.— [He goes to the door, and then stops.]—I beg your pardon, Sir—wou'd not you chuse to go first?2d Keep.
No.Twi.
O! [Exeunt.
SCENE III. [The Council Chamber. Enter Sultan, Haswell, and Guards.]
Has.
Sultan, I have out-run your bounty in my promises; and one poor, unhappy female—Sul.
No—you named yourself the number to release, and it is fixed—I'll not increase it.Has.
A poor, miserable female—Sul.
Am I less miserable than she is?—And who shall release me from my sorrows?Has.
Then let me tell you, Sultan, she is above your power to oblige, or to punish.—Ten years, nay more, confinement in a drear cell has been no greater punishment to her, than had she lived in a pleasant world without the man she loved.Sul.
Hah!Has.
And freedom offered she rejects with scorn, because he is not included in the blessing.Sul.
You talk of prodigies!—[He makes a sign for the Guards to retire, and they exit.]—and yet I once knew a heart equal to this description.Has.
Nay, will you see her?—Witness yourself the fact?Sul.
Why do I tremble?—My busy fancy presents an image—Has.
Yes, tremble, indeed! [Threatening.Sul.
Hah! have a care—what tortures are you preparing for me?—My mind shrinks at the idea.Has.
Your wife you will behold—whom you have kept in want, in wretchedness, in a damp dungeon, for these fourteen years, because you wou'd not listen to the voice of pity.—Dread her look—her frown—not for herself alone, but for hundreds of her fellow sufferers—and while your selfish fancy was searching, with wild anxiety, for her you loved, unpitying, you forgot others might love like you.Sul.
O! do not bring me to a trial which I have not courage to support.Has.
She attends without—I sent for her to thank you for the favour she declines.—Nay, be composed—she knows you not—cannot, thus disguised as the Sultan. [Exit Haswell.Sul.
Oh! my Arabella! could I have thought that your approach wou'd ever impress my mind with horror!—or that, instead of flying to your arms with all the love I bear you, terror and dread shou'd fix me a statue of remorse.[Enter Haswell, leading Arabella.]
Has.
Here kneel, and return your thanks.Sul.
My Arabella! worn with grief and anguish! [Aside.Ara. [Kneeling to the Sultan.]
Sultan, the favour you wou'd bestow, I own, and humbly thank you for.Sul.
Gracious Heaven! [In much agitation.Ara.
But as I am now accustomed to confinement, and the idea of all the world can give, cannot inspire a wish that warms my heart to the enjoyment—I supplicate permission to transfer the blessing you have offered, to one of those who may have friends to welcome their return from bondage, and so make freedom precious.—I have none to rejoice at my release—none to lament my destiny while a prisoner.—And were I free, in this vast world (forlorn and friendless) 'tis but a prison still.Sul.
What have I done?—[Throwing himself on a sopha with the greatest emotion.Has.
Speak to him again.—He repents of the severity with which he has caused his fellow creatures to be used.—Tell him you forgive him.Ara. [Going to him.]
Believe me, Emperor, I forgive all who have ever wronged me—all who have ever caused my sufferings.—Pardon you!— Alas! I have pardoned even those who tore me from my husband!—Oh, Sultan! all the tortures you have made me suffer, compared to such a pang as that—did I say I had forgiven it?—Oh! I am afraid—afraid I have not yet.Sul.
Forgive it now, then, for he is restored. —[Taking off his turban.]—Behold him in the Sultan, and once more seal his pardon.—[She faints on Haswell.] —Nay, pronounce it quickly; or my remorse for what you have undergone, will make my present tortures greater than any my cruelties have ever yet inflicted.Ara. [Recovering.]
Is this the light you promised?—[To Haswell.]—Dear precious light!—Is this my freedom? to which I bind myself a slave for ever.—[Embracing the Sultan.]—Was I your captive?—Sweet captivity!—more precious than an age of liberty!Sul.
Oh, my Arabella! through the amazing changes of my fate, (which I will soon disclose) think not but I have searched for thee with unceasing care; but the blessing to behold you once again was left for my kind monitor alone to bestow.—Oh, Haswell! had I, like you, made others' miseries my concern, like you sought out the wretched, how many days of sorrow had I spared myself as well as others—for I long since had found my Arabella.Ara.
Oh, Heaven! that weighest our sufferings with our joys, and as our lives decline seest in the balance thy blessings far more ponderous than thy judgements—be witness, I complain no more of what I have endured, but find an ample recompence this moment.Has.
I told you, Sir, how you might be happy.Sul.
Take your reward—(to a heart like yours, more valuable than treasure from my coffers)—this signet, with power to redress the wrongs of all who suffer.Has.
Valuable indeed!—Ara. [To Haswell.]
Oh, virtuous man!—to reward thee are we made happy—to give thy pitying bosom the joy to see us so, has Heaven remitted its intended punishment of continued separation.Sul.
Come, my beloved wife!—come to my palace—there, equally, my dearest blessing, as when the cottage gave its fewer joys—and in him [To Haswell.] we not only find our present happiness, but dwell securely on our future hopes—for here, I vow, before he leaves our shores, I will adopt every measure he shall point out—and that period of my life whereon he shall lay his censure, that will I fix apart for penitence.—[Exit Sultan and Arabella.—Haswell bows to Heaven with thanks.[Enter Keeper.]
Keep.
An English prisoner, just now condemned to lose his head, one Henry Twineall, humbly begs permission to speak a few short sentences, his last dying words, to Mr. Haswell.Has.
Condemned to lose his head?—Lead me to him.Keep.
O, Sir, you need not hurry yourself—it is off by this time, I dare say.Has.
Off?Keep.
Yes, Sir—we don't stand long about these things in this country—I dare say it is off.Has. [Impatiently.]
Lead me to him instantly.Guard.
O! 'tis of consequence, is it, Sir?— if that is the case— [Exit Keeper, followed by Haswell.
SCENE IV.
[An arch-way at the top of the stage, through which several Guards enter—Twineall in the middle, dressed for execution, with a large book in his hand.]
Twi.
One more verse, gentlemen, if you please.Off.
The time is expired.Twi.
One more, gentlemen, if you please.Off.
The time is expired.[Enter Haswell.]
Twi.
Oh! my dear Mr. Haswell! [Bursting into tears.Has.
What, in tears at parting with me?— This is a compliment indeed!Twi.
I hope you take it as such—I am sure I mean it as such.—It kills me to leave you—it breaks my heart;—and I once flattered myself such a charitable, good, feeling, humane heart as you possess—Has.
Hold! Hold!—This, Mr. Twineall, is the vice which has driven you to the fatal precipice whereon you are—and in death will you not relinquish it?Twi.
What vice, Sir, do you mean?Has.
Flattery!—a vice that renders you not only despicable, but odious.Twi.
But how has flattery been the cause?Has.
Your English friend, before he left the island, told me what information you had asked from him, and that he had given you the direct opposite of every person's character, as a just punishment for your mean premeditation and designs.Twi.
I never imagined that amiable friend had sense enough to impose upon any body!Has.
Yet I presume, he could not suppose fate wou'd have carried their resentment to a length like this.Twi.
Oh! cou'd fate be arrested in its course!Has.
You wou'd reform your conduct?Twi.
I wou'd—I wou'd never say another civil thing to any body—never—never make myself agreeable again.Has.
Release him—here is the Sultan's signet. [They release him.Twi.
Oh! my dear Mr. Haswell! never was compassion!—never benevolence!—never such a heart as yours!—Has.
Sieze him—he has broken his contract already.Twi.
No, Sir—No, Sir—I protest you are an illnatured, surly, crabbed fellow. I always thought so, upon my word, whatever I have said.Has.
And, I'll forgive that meaning, sooner than the other—utter any thing but flattery— Oh! never let the honest, plain, blunt English name, become a proverb for so base a vice.—Lady Ter. [Without.]
Where is the poor creature?[Enter Lady Tremor.]
Lady.
Oh! if his head is off, pray let me look at it?—Twi.
No, Madam, it is on—and I am very happy to be able to tell you so.—Lady.
Dear Heaven!—I expected to have seen it off!—but no matter—as it is on—I am come that it may be kept on—and have brought my Lord Flint, and Sir Luke, as witnesses.[Enter Lord, Aurelia, and Sir Luke.]
Has.
Well, Madam, and what have they to say?Sir Luke.
Who are we to tell our story to?— There does not seem to be any one sitting in judgement.—Has.
Tell it to me, Sir—I will report it.Sir Luke.
Why then, Mr. Haswell, as Ghosts sometimes walk—and as one's conscience is sometimes troublesome—I think Mr. Twineall has done nothing to merit death, and the charge which his Lordship sent in against him, we begin to think too severe—but, if there was any false statement—Lord.
It was the fault of my not charging my memory—any error I have been guilty of, must be laid to the fault of my total want of memory.Has.
And what do you hope from this confession?Sir Luke.
To remit the prisoner's punishment of death to something less, if the Sultan will please to annul the sentenceLord.
Yes—and grant ten or twelve years imprisonment—or the Gallies for fourteen years— or—Sir Luke.
Ay, ay, something in that way.Has.
For shame—for shame—Gentlemen!— the extreme rigour you shew in punishing a dissension from your opinion, or a satire upon your folly, proves to conviction, what reward you had bestowed upon the skilful flatterer.Twi.
Gentlemen and Ladies, pray why wou'd you wish me requited with such extreme severity, merely for my humble endeavours to make myself agreeable?—Lady Tremor, upon my honour I was credibly informed, your ancestors were Kings of Scotland.Lady.
Impossible!—you might as well say that you heard Sir Luke had distinguished himself at the battle of—Twi.
And, I did hear so.Lady.
And he did distinguish himself; for he was the only one that ran away.Twi.
Cou'd it happen?Lady.
Yes, Sir, it did happen.Sir Luke.
And go you, Mr. Twineall, into a field of battle, and I think it is very likely to happen again.Lord.
If Mr. Haswell has obtained your pardon, Sir, it is all very well—but let me advise you to keep your sentiments on politics to yourself, for the future—as you value that pretty head of yours.Twi.
I thank you, Sir—I do value it.[Enter Elvirus.]
Has. [Going to him.]
Aurelia, in this letter to me, has explained your story with so much compassion, that, for her sake, I must pity it too.— With freedom to your father, and youself, the Sultan restores his forfeited lands—and might I plead, Sir Luke, for your interest with Aureila's friends, this young man's filial love, shou'd be repaid by conjugal affection.Sir Luke.
As for that, Mr. Haswell, you have so much interest at court, that your taking the young man under you protection—besides, as Aurelia was sent hither merely to get a husband— I don't see—Aur.
True, Sir Luke—and I am afraid my father and mother will begin to be uneasy that I have not got one yet—and I shou'd be very sorry to disoblige them.Elv.
No—say rather, sorry to make me wretched.— [Taking her hand.Enter Zedan.
Has.
My Indian friend, have you received your freedom?Zed.
Yes—and come to bid you farewell— which I wou'd never do, had I not a family in wretchedness till my return—for you shou'd be my master, and I wou'd be your slave.—Has.
I thank you—may you meet at home every comfort!Zed.
May you—may you—what shall I say?—May you once in your life be a prisoner—then released—to feel such joy, as I feel now!—Has.
I thank you for a wish, that tells me most emphatically, how much you think I have served you.Twi.
And, my dear Lord, I sincerely wish you may once in your life, have your head chopped off—just to know what I shou'd have felt, in that situation.—Zed. [Pointing to Haswell.]
Are all his countrymen as good as he?Sir Luke.
No-no-no-no—not all—but the worst of them are good enough to admire him.Twi.
Pray Mr. Haswell, will you suffer all these encomiums?Elv.
He must suffer them—there are virtues, which praise cannot taint—such are Mr. Haswell's—for they are the offspring of a mind, superior even to the love of fame—neither can they, through malice, suffer by applause, since they are too sacred to incite envy, and must conciliate the respect, the love, and the admiration of all.
FINIS.
EPILOGUE,
Written by MILES-PETER ANDREWS, Esq. [By Andrews, M. P.]Spoken by Mrs. MATTOCKS. Since all are sprung, they say, from Mother Earth,
Why stamp a merit or disgrace on birth?
Yet so it is, however we disguise it,
All boast their origin, or else despise it.
This pride or shame haunts ev'ry living soul
From Hyde-park Corner, down to Limehouse Hole:
Peers, taylors, poets, statesmen, undertakers,
Knights, squires, man-milliners, and peruke-makers.
Sir Hugh Glengluthglin, from the land of goats,
Tho' out at elbows, shews you all his coats;
And rightful heir to twenty pounds per annum,
Boasts the rich blood that warm'd his great great grannam;
While wealthy Simon Soapsuds; just be-knighted,
Struck with the sword of state, is grown dim sighted,
Forgets the neighbouring chins he used to lather,
And scarcely knows he ever had a father.Our Author, then, correct in every line,
From nature's characters hath pictur'd mine;
For many a lofty fair, who, friz'd and curl'd,
With crest of horse hair, tow'ring thro' the world,
To powder, paste, and pins, ungrateful grown,
Thinks the full periwig is all her own;
Proud of her conquering ringlets, onward goes,
Nor thanks the barber, from whose hands she rose.Thus doth false pride fantastic minds mislead,
And make our weaker sex seem weak indeed:
Suppose, to prove this truth, in mirthful strain,
We bring the Dripping family again.—
Papa, a tallow chandler by descent,
Had read "how larning is most excellent:"
So Miss, returned from boarding school at Bow,
Waits to be finished by Mama and Co.—"See, spouse, how spruce our Nan is grown, and tall;
"I'll lay, she cuts a dash at Lord Mayor's ball."—
In bolts the maid—"Ma'am! Miss's master's come;"—
Away fly Ma' and Miss to dancing room—
"Walk in, Mounseer; come, Nan, draw up like me."—
"Ma foi! Madame, Miss like you as two pea."—
Mounseer takes out his kit; the scene begins;
Miss trusses up; my lady Mother grins:—
"Ma'amselle, me teach a you de step to tread;
"First turn you toe, den turn you littel bead;
"One, two, dree, sinka, risa, balance; bon,
"Now entrechat, and now de cotillon.
[Singing and dancing about."Pardieu, Ma'amselle be one enchanting girl;
"Me no surprise to see her ved and Earl."—
"With all my heart, says Miss; Mounseer, I'm ready;
"I dream'd last night, Ma, I should be a Lady."Thus do the Drippings, all important grown,
Expect to shine with lustre not their own;
New airs are got, fresh graces, and fresh washes,
New caps, new gauze, new feathers, and new sashes;
Till just complete for conquest at Guildhall,
Down comes an order to suspend the ball.
Miss Shrieks, Ma' scolds, Pa' seems to have lost his tether;
Caps, custards, coronets—all sink together—
Papa resumes his jacket, dips away,
And Miss lives single, till next Lord Mayor's day.If such the sorrow, and if such the strife,
That break the comforts of domestic life,
Look to the hero, who this night appears,
Whose boundless excellence the World reveres;
Who, friend to nature, by no blood confin'd,
Is the glad relative of all mankind.
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