Hawksmoor

Why prostrate your Reason to meer Nature? We live off the Past: it is in our Words and our Syllables. It is reverberant in our Streets and Courts, so that we can scarce walk across the Stones without being reminded of those who walked there before us; the Ages before our own are like an Eclipse which blots out the Clocks and Watches of our present Artificers and, in that Darkness, the Generations jostle one another. It is the dark of Time from which we come and to which we will return. va

Dyer scowls and then looks upon two Gentlemen in another Corner, who are inflamed with Liquor and speaking wildly. first gentleman. You hear this on Rep? second gentleman. Pozz. It was his Phizz and the Mobb saw it: it was in the News. As sure as Eggs are Eggs. first gent. Ah but these Eggs give me disconsolate Dreams, and make me melancholy for Days after. second gent. And do you know why you do not like Eggs? first gent. Why do I not like Eggs, sirrah? second gent. Because your Father was so often pelted with them! dyer. (To himself) There is nothing but Corruption withi

(Laughing) I had quite forgot that Distemper. dyer. -Did you hear of the Victim who persewed a young Girl, kissed her and then said, I have given you the Plague! Look here! And then he opened his Shirt to show her the fa tall Tokens. There is a Horrour and Loathsomeness there that must affect us all. va

You will have Variety and Novelty, which is nothing but unruly Fancy. It is only from Imitation – va

(Laughing) Plagiarism! dyer. (With a grave countenance) -Only from Imitation that we have Order and Massiveness. va

Enter Potboy boy. Do you call, sirs, do you call? Coffee or Brandy, Gentlemen? I have a fresh Pot a making. va

He takes off his wig for a moment to cool himself, and Dyer notices his Hair. dyer. (Aside) It is strangely Black beneeth his Wigg: the clear Water has been used to turn it. va

I am troubled by many Thoughts. va

Condemned? To what? Speak! Quick! va

No doubt you were more charmed by Milton's Hell than by his Paradise. dyer. -And Spenser copied his master Chaucer. The world is a continued Allegory and a dark Conceit. va

Both men growing uneasy, they turn to look at the Company; but the Hour is past Midnight, and the Tavern empty except for the Boy cleaning the Tables. va

He comes forward, as Nicholas Dyer sleeps uneasily in his Cups, and addresses the Audience with a SONG What foolish Frenzy does this Man possess To cling to Ancients and expect Success?

To bring old Customs on the modern Stage When nought but Sense and Reason please this Age?

Goodnight, Mr Dyer.