Dialogue following No. 8

CHRISTINA. It is pleasant to know that we are of kindred lot, for if you are a strolling player, why I am but a poor ballad-singer, and out callings have much in common. I am at my ease now, but at first — you will laugh at me, I know — I almost thought I was speaking to the Regent himself!

REGENT. I have been given to understand that there is a certain resemblance.

CHRISTINA. It is marvellous! Do you know his Highness, sir? (Anxiously.)

REGENT. Well, I can scarcely say. We have never met, face to face.

CHRISTINA (disappointed). Then you do not know him.

REGENT. Very good — then I do not know him: but — I know his tailor.

CHRISTINA. His tailor?

REGENT. Yes. I frequently see his tailor, and his tailor tells me, in strictest confidence, that (impressively) his Highness is at least three inches more round the waist than he is here represented to be! So be prepared for a disappointment!

CHRISTINA (laughing). Why, sir, I believe there is nothing in this wide world that concerns me less than the measure of his Highness’s waist! Such a trifle weighs but little with me.

REGENT (aside). It weighs a good deal with me! (Aloud.) And do you pass much time in the society of his highness’s effigy?

CHRISTINA. Why, in truth, much more than is prudent.

REGENT. Oh, he won’t hurt you — I should say that you were quite safe with him. But beware of the Regent himself, for men say that he is a terrible Turk!

CHRISTINA. The Regent, sir, is nought to me. Yet, to speak truly, I am loth to believe that there can be aught but good in one whom that statue so strongly resembles!

REGENT. Then — I may take it that you do not believe there is much of evil in me?

CHRISTINA (confused). Why, sir — in truth — nay, this is scarcely fair dealing. I spake not of yourself, but of the Regent.

REGENT. And I so strongly resemble him!

CHRISTINA. I think, sir, I will go.

REGENT. Nay, be not angry with me for drawing so pleasant a conclusion from premises of your own making! (Tenderly.) I would fain hope that you are not angry with me.

CHRISTINA. Nay, sir, I am not angry. I spake foolishly, and — I am well served. But I have tarried too long; I have to go to the Castle Green — I am to sing there.

REGENT. Why, I am likewise bound thither, for I have to see the Governor. (Tenderly.) Who knows but that we may meet again!

CHRISTINA (moved). It is very like. (Recovering herself.) But the day is speeding, and I have to sing for my supper. So fare you well, Master —!

REGENT. Nils Egilsson. (Kissing her hand.)

CHRISTINA (dreamily). Nils Egilsson: I shall not forget that name, be very sure!

Exit CHRISTINA.

REGENT. Well, as a bachelor heir-apparent, I’ve had a tolerably comprehensive experience of young ladies; but of all the maids I ever met, this is the fairest, the most winning, and the most original! What a refreshing experience! It’s like the breath of the hay-field after a season of hot ball-rooms! We shall meet again, my pretty ballad-singer, unless I greatly err. And now to encounter this precious Governor.

Enter GOVERNOR GRIFFENFELD

GRIFFENFELD. The Syndic has received his charmer’s letter, and he’s on the tip-toe of expectation and delight. I shall get rid of her — I shall get rid of her!

REGENT. Not knowing the lady, but speaking on general principles, I should say that you couldn’t do better.

GRIFFENFELD. Hallo, sir, who are you to presume to convert into a duologue that which was intended for a soliloquy?

REGENT. I’m Nils Egilsson — strolling player — sadly out of repair, and greatly in need of a handsome salary, paid weekly in advance.

GRIFFENFELD. A professional rogue, eh?

REGENT. Well — a technical rogue — much as a lawyer is a technical gentleman — that is to say, by Act of Parliament.

GRIFFENFELD. You pipe to a sharp note, sir. We keep a cage for such gaol-birds as you. (Aside.) Where have I seen this fellow’s face?

REGENT. Well, I think I sing best behind bars.

GRIFFENFELD (aside). Where have I seen this fellow’s face?

REGENT. Surely you’re not the Governor?

GRIFFENFELD. Yes, sir, I am the Governor of this Province.

REGENT. A thousand pardons! I took you for the borough constable. A hasty conclusion based upon a commendable absence of that superficial polish which the vulgar are but too apt to associate with the conception of a gentle man. The Governor! (Bowing.) A worshipful gentleman, I’ll be sworn, appearances notwithstanding. A thousand pardons!

GRIFFENFELD (who, during this speech, has been studying the REGENT’s face). I have it! It’s the statue! Why, he’s marvellously like it! (Aloud.) Hark ye, sirrah! you are an actor, you say?

REGENT. A poor actor.

GRIFFENFELD. Ready at a moment’s notice to play any part that may be entrusted to you? Kings, princes, and so forth?

REGENT. Why, I’m famous for my kings. There’s an air of aristocratic impudence about me — you may have remarked it — which is eminently suited to your monarchs of genteel comedy. My tyrants, too, are much admired. “What, bearded to our face, and by a very boy? The moat is dry — load him with chains, and stifle him in its reeking mud! Ha! ha! I will be obeyed!”

GRIFFENFELD. Yes — that’s not good, you know. Rather amateurish, I should say. Played a long engagement in the Theatre Royal Back Drawing Room, I should imagine. By the way, have you ever heard it remarked that you bear a close resemblance to a very dignified personage?

REGENT. Eh? Oh, you mean the man who mends boots on the quay. That’s very likely — he’s my aunt.

GRIFFENFELD. The man who mends fiddlesticks!

REGENT. I don’t think I know him.

GRIFFENFELD. No, sir — not to the man who mends boots — to no less a person than the Prince Regent of Denmark.

REGENT. The Prince Regent?

GRIFFENFELD. There he is. He’s a common-looking fellow, and you are singularly like him. (Pointing to statue.)

REGENT. You flatter me, I’m sure (looking at statue). Well, some fellows have the deuce’s own luck. Here is a man — the heir to a throne — caressed, courted, and flattered by the highest in the land — pampered with every luxury that the ingenuity of the devil or man can devise — and, hang me! if, in addition to all this, he isn’t exactly like me! It’s enough to turn the fellow’s head!

GRIFFENFELD. He’s an ugly fellow, sir, and so are you. Therein lies the chief resemblance. Now attend to me. If you will consent to personate His Highness for twenty-four hours, acting exactly as I shall prescribe to you, you shall have — well, you shall have five golden Friedrichs!

REGENT. Five golden Friedrichs!

GRIFFENFELD. Then you consent?

REGENT. Consent? What is there that I wouldn’t consent to for five golden Friedrichs? But my dress — it’s a convenient outfit for summer weather; but not, I should say, what the Regent of Denmark would wear — except, perhaps, in the bosom of his family after the cares of State are over for the day.

GRIFFENFELD. I’ve provided for that. The sculptor of that statue borrowed a left-off suit of the Regent’s from His Highness’s valet — for artistic purposes. It’s now at the Castle, packed up, ready to be returned. I should say it would fit you to a nicety.

REGENT (aside). I’ve not the least doubt of it. When am I to begin?

GRIFFENFELD. To-morrow morning. It’ll be great fun!

REGENT. It will be a tremendous joke.

GRIFFENFELD. So original! With such possibilities! Fancy — a sham Regent dispensing sham wealth and sham honours untold on all my sham friends — and then their disappointment when they discover that it’s only my fun!

REGENT. Ha! ha! I’m longing to begin!

During the last few lines, CHRISTINA has entered. She listens, concealed behind statue.