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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor,
+Vol. I, No. 5, May 1810, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, Vol. I, No. 5, May 1810
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Stephen Cullen Carpenter
+
+Release Date: October 31, 2008 [EBook #27109]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, MAY 1810 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Josephine Paolucci
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MIRROR OF TASTE,
+
+AND
+
+DRAMATIC CENSOR.
+
+
+Vol. I. MAY, 1810. No. 5.
+
+
+
+
+HISTORY OF THE STAGE.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+_Conclusion of the Greek Drama._
+
+
+MENANDER.
+
+Menander, as has been said in the last chapter, once more rescued the
+stage of Greece from barbarism. In the death of Aristophanes was
+involved the death of "the middle comedy," which rapidly declined in the
+hands of his insufficient successors. The poets and wits that came after
+him, wanted either the talents, the malignity, or the courage to follow
+his example, to imitate him in his daring personalities, or to adopt his
+merciless satyrical style. They followed his steps, only in his feeble,
+pitiful paths, and contented themselves with writing contemptible
+buffoon caricature parodies of the writings of the greatest men. The new
+comedy never could have raised its head, had the middle comedy continued
+to be supported by a succession of such wits as Aristophanes, with new
+supplies of envenomed personal satire. Fortunately, however, the stage
+was pretty well cleared of that pernicious kind of writing when
+_Menander_, the amiable and the refined, came forth and claimed the bay.
+
+This celebrated writer, who justly obtained the appellation of "prince
+of the new comedy," was a native of Athens, and was born three hundred
+and forty-five years before the birth of Christ. He was educated under
+the illustrious Theophrastus, from whom he learned philosophy and
+composition. While a brilliant genius directed him to comic poetry, his
+natural delicacy, his refined taste, his moral rectitude, and true
+philosophy controlled his fancy, imparted to his comedies a charm
+unknown before, and obtained for them the suffrage of the most
+enlightened, witty, and judicious men of his age, though for the same
+reason they were, as Hamlet says, caviere to the multitude, and never
+did please the corrupted and malicious multitude of Athens. With a wit
+as brilliant and acute as that of Aristophanes, and perhaps as capable
+of vitious coarseness and ribaldry, he kept it in correction, and
+scorned to disgrace his compositions with illiberal personal aspersions,
+or indecent, obscene, or satirical reflections; but endeavoured to make
+his comedies pictures of real life, replete with refined useful
+instruction, and sagacious observation, conveyed through the medium of
+natural elegant dialogue. His writings, though they did not draw the
+regards of the million with such irresistible and congenial attraction
+as those of Aristophanes, had the power in some measure to rescue comedy
+from the unbridled licentiousness and profligacy which, for fifty years
+before, had rendered it a public nuisance. The multitude, however, he
+could not, during his lifetime reclaim; for a miserable cotemporary of
+his, named Philemon, a coarse writer of broad farce, who afterwards died
+of a fit of laughter at seeing a jackass eat figs, continued by
+intrigues and his natural influence with the mob, to carry away some
+prizes from him; though he was so mean and contemptible a poet that his
+very name would have been forgotten, and long since sunk in eternal
+oblivion, if it had not been buoyed up by the simple fact of his
+entering the lists against Menander.
+
+The honours which his corrupted countrymen denied him were conferred
+upon Menander by strangers; for we are informed by Pliny that the king
+of Egypt, and the king of Macedon, as a proof of their respect, and
+admiration of his rare qualities, sent ambassadors to invite him to
+their courts; and, not contented with that compliment, sent fleets to
+convey him: such was the fame accompanied with which his unexampled
+endowments, spread his name over the remotest nations of the east.
+Whether it was from local attachment to his native land, or from sound
+philosophical wisdom and disregard of such temptations, he declined
+those honours, cannot now be known, though the fact is beyond doubt that
+he never would leave Attica. It is, however, an honourable testimony of
+the perfect indifference with which he bore the stupid and unjust
+preference given by the Athenians to his contemptible rival. It was said
+that he drowned himself in consequence of Philemon's victory: but this
+report has never been credited, being at variance with all the accounts
+given by the best authorities, who, on the contrary, relate that so far
+from being affected at the success of the other, the only notice he ever
+took of it was, once to ask the victor, "Philemon! do you not blush to
+wear that laurel?"
+
+Of the incomparable merit of this great man, the principal evidence now
+existing is the unanimous praise of some of the greatest men of
+antiquity, since of one hundred and eight comedies which he wrote,
+nothing but a few fragments remain in their original state. How much the
+world ought to deplore the loss of those valuable compositions may be
+collected from the admiration in which they were held by the Romans,
+who, as we are assured by the ancients, maintained that their favourite
+TERENCE was very much inferior to Menander. Terence borrowed six or at
+least four of his plays from this admirable Greek poet, and those though
+now considered excellent are allowed by his countrymen to have lost much
+of the spirit of the great originals.
+
+It cannot be doubted that he possessed to an astonishing fulness the
+talent so little known in the ancient world, and which has exalted our
+Shakspeare in lofty preeminence above the rest of mankind, of portraying
+nature in every condition of human life. We have heard of, and
+frequently read many terse and witty compliments to the genius of
+Shakspeare, on account of his intimacy with nature; but we know of none
+superior to that paid to Menander by the great Byzantian grammarian
+Aristophanes, who, on reading his comedies exclaimed in an ecstasy, "O
+MENANDER! O NATURE! WHICH OF YOU HAVE COPIED THE WORKS OF THE OTHER?"
+Ovid held him in no less admiration; and Plutarch has been lavish in his
+praise: the old rhetoricians recommend his works as the true and perfect
+patterns of every thing beautiful and graceful in public speaking.
+Quintilian advises an orator to seek in Menander for copiousness of
+invention, for elegance of expression, and all that universal genius
+which is able to accommodate itself to persons, things, and affections:
+but that which appears to us more decisive than any other eulogy
+bestowed upon him, is the opinion of Caesar, who, praising his favourite
+Terence, calls him a half-Menander, thereby leaving upon record his
+testimony that Menander had twice the merit of the greatest comic poet
+of Rome.
+
+Such was the poet from whom the mob of Athens snatched the laurel to
+bestow it upon a mean and execrable scribbler, and to one hundred of
+whose comedies the prize was denied, while only eight of them were
+rewarded with it.
+
+From the death of Menander which happened in his fifty-second year, not
+a dramatic poet arose, nor a circumstance occurred relating to the art
+in Greece, worthy of commemoration: here, therefore, history drops the
+dramatic poetry of that country, till in a future page the merits of the
+ancient and modern drama come to be viewed in comparison with each
+other, and proceeds to commemorate some of the Grecian actors.
+
+"Poetry," says a celebrated French writer, "has almost always been prior
+to every other kind of learning, which is undoubtedly owing to its being
+the produce of sentiment and fancy, two faculties of the mind always
+employed before reason. Sensible minds are led by a kind of instinct to
+sing their pleasures, their happiness, the gods whom they adore, the
+heroes they admire, and the events they wish to have engraven on their
+memories; accordingly poetry has been cultivated in all savage nations.
+The warmth of the passions has been of great use in promoting this
+delightful art." It is not to be wondered at, then, that the Athenians,
+who, to use the words of the same writer, possessed a lively
+imagination, great fertility of genius, a rich harmonious language, and
+eminent abilities excited by the most ardent emulation, should be
+extravagantly fond of poetry, and no less partial to those who displayed
+a vigorous spirit of emulation in that art, and an ambition to excel in
+any of the employments that served to illustrate or give it effect. For
+these reasons they systematically honoured not only dramatic poets but
+actors.
+
+How much the important concerns of mankind are swayed and pre-influenced
+by manners and habits is strongly illustrated in the discrepance which
+maintained between the taste, the amusements, and opinions of the lively
+Athenians, and those of the austere and exact people of Sparta, though
+they were in fact one people. In their amusements, and partly in their
+taste for literature, they differed essentially. The Athenians loved
+poetry and music; while the Spartans, whose schemes were founded on
+utility alone, rather rejected them as superfluous. Poets and musicians,
+however, who confined themselves to sober and simple subjects, and to
+grave and dignified expression, were not without admirers and supporters
+in the latter: and when the Spartans destroyed and sacked the city of
+Thebes, they spared the house that had been inhabited by PINDAR, in
+respect to that great poet's memory. TERPANDER too, a lyric poet and
+musician is related by AElian to have appeased a tumult at Sparta by the
+sweetness of his notes and the fire of his poetry. They would not,
+however, endure either poetry or music which did not breathe exalted
+sentiment, and produce a beneficial impression on the mind.
+
+On the subject of dramatic poetry and its adjuncts, theatres and actors,
+the Spartans differed as essentially from the Athenians, as the
+puritans, methodists, quakers, and rigid presbyterians differ from the
+amateurs of the present day. During a reign of thirty-six years,
+AGESILAUS who held the drama in contempt, discouraged and kept the
+actors in depression. This extreme austerity prevailed through all ranks
+of the rigid Lacedemonian people, who indeed carried it to a length
+equally absurd and cruel; for they punished with great severity a famous
+poet and musician, for adding three strings to the harp; grounding their
+sentence upon a principle universally assented to among them, that the
+softness of musical sounds produced effeminacy among the people. Of the
+truth of their proposition in the abstract, there can be little doubt;
+it is in the rigid application and extreme extension of it the fault
+lies. Music has certainly a powerful influence on the passions, and
+produces happy effects upon the human heart and mind when cultivated
+moderately: but when it becomes the general prevailing passion of a
+nation, or, as it were, gets dominion over them, it unquestionably
+produces not effeminacy merely, but a hateful depravity of manners.
+Whether the unexampled depravation of the modern Italians has been
+caused by their passionate devotion to music, or their passionate
+devotion to music by their monstrous depravity shall not be discussed in
+this place. But the closeness of the connexion between the two things,
+no matter which may be the cause or which the effect, will serve as an
+illustration of the subject.
+
+It is related that once, when Callipedes a celebrated tragedian, offered
+his homage to Agesilaus, and for some time received no notice in return,
+he said to the king, "Do you not know me, sir?" To which the king
+replied, "You are Callipedes, the actor," and turned from him with
+contempt. This harshness and severity extended even to the slaves of the
+Spartans, some of whom, being taken prisoners of war by the Thebans, and
+ordered to sing the odes of _Terpander_ for their captors, peremptorily
+refused to comply, because it was forbidden them by their old masters.
+
+In all Greece, however, Sparta stands a solitary instance of this
+austerity; for the drama, poetry, and music were enthusiastically
+cultivated in Athens, and even in every country into which the Grecians
+penetrated. Players became in many instances the confidential friends,
+counsellors, and ministers of kings themselves; and Alexander the Great
+sent Thessalus, an actor, as an ambassador to Pexodorus, the Persian
+governor of Caria, to forbid a marriage intended by the governor between
+his daughter and Aridoeus, an illegitimate son of the late king
+Philip. The proofs which that mighty conqueror has left on record of his
+partiality to celebrated professors of the histrionic art, are no less
+extraordinary than numerous, and in some instances, do no great credit
+to his judgment. Every general in his camp had along with him his poets,
+musicians, and declaimers. One time Alexander's favourite, Hephestion,
+accommodated his musician named Evius, with the quarters which belonged
+of right to EUMENES, the most worthy and renowned of all the Grecian
+generals. Eumenes boldly remonstrated, and told Alexander that he
+plainly saw the best way to acquire promotion in his army would be to
+throw away arms, and learn to play upon the flute or turn actor.
+
+At a contest of skill between Thessalus, Alexander's favourite actor,
+and another of the name of Athenodorus, the king, though in his heart
+deeply interested for the success of Thessalus, would not say a word in
+his favour, lest it should bias the judges, who actually proclaimed
+Athenodorus victor: the hero then exclaimed that the judges deserved
+commendation for what they had done, but that he would have given half
+his kingdom rather than see Thessalus overcome. This was certainly a
+striking instance of magnanimity. How unprejudiced and generous that
+great man's mind was may be collected from a subsequent act of his in a
+case that concerned that very Athenodorus. That performer being heavily
+fined by the Athenians for not appearing on the stage at the feast of
+Bacchus implored Alexander to intercede for him; the just and munificent
+monarch, however, refused to write in his favour, but, in order to
+relieve the man, paid the fine for him.
+
+In Greece, declamation was regarded as the principal step to honour and
+advancement in public life. The greatest men practised it, and as they
+held action to be the criterion of oratory, made the best actors their
+models; nor was this a groundless opinion adopted by a few or
+superficial men; for Demosthenes having remarked with some asperity that
+the worst orators were heard in the rostrum in preference to him, the
+celebrated actor SATYRUS, in order to show him how much grace, dignity,
+and action add to the celebrity of a public man, repeated to him several
+passages from Sophocles and Euripides, which so delighted and astonished
+Demosthenes that he always afterwards formed his elocution and action on
+the models of the most celebrated actors.
+
+Having brought the history of the stage to the end of the Greek theatre,
+this chapter cannot be better concluded than with an extract from an
+admirable work lately published on the subject in England, to which this
+history is indebted for some of its materials.
+
+"It remains now only to say, that from the parodies of the ancient
+writers, begun by Aristophanes, and awkwardly imitated by his
+contemporaries and successors, sprung mimes, farces, and the grossest
+buffoonery; and though the Grecian theatre still kept up an appearance
+of greatness, and there was often some brilliancy beamed across the
+heterogeneous mass which obscured truth and nature, to which the people
+were no longer sensible; yet the grandeur and magnificence of public
+exhibitions decreased; till, at length the fate of the stage too truly
+foretold the fate of the empire. So certain it is that where the arts
+are redundant they introduce luxury, and sap the foundation of a
+state."
+
+
+
+
+BIOGRAPHY.
+
+
+For those readers who love biography, the editors of The Mirror have
+selected one of the most interesting memoirs to be found in the rich
+treasury of British literature. As a simple, yet animated picture of
+natural genius, forcing its way through the impediments which waylay
+early poverty, and breaking forth like the sun in meridian splendor
+after a morning of tempest, clouds, and darkness, it will be a fit
+companion for that of Hodgkinson. As a piece of composition, it is
+perhaps the very finest specimen to be found in any language of the
+unaffected, unadorned modest style that becomes a biographer, and
+particularly a writer of his own life.
+
+This memoir first appeared prefixed to that author's translation of
+Juvenal.
+
+
+LIFE OF WILLIAM GIFFORD, ESQ. AUTHOR OF THE BAEVIAD AND MAEVIAD, AND
+TRANSLATOR OF JUVENAL.
+
+I am about to enter on a very uninteresting subject; but all my friends
+tell me that it is necessary to account for the long delay of the
+following work; and I can only do it by adverting to the circumstances
+of my life. Will this be accepted as an apology?
+
+I know but little of my family, and that little is not very precise. My
+great-grandfather (the most remote of it, that I ever recollect to have
+heard mentioned) possessed considerable property at Halsworthy, a parish
+in the neighbourhood of Ashburton; but whether acquired or inherited, I
+never thought of asking, and do not know.
+
+He was probably a native of Devonshire, for there he spent the last
+years of his life; spent them too, in some sort of consideration, for
+Mr. T. a very respectable surgeon of Ashburton, loved to repeat to me,
+when I first grew into notice, that he had frequently hunted with his
+hounds.
+
+My grandfather was on ill terms with him: I believe not without
+sufficient reason, for he was extravagant and dissipated. My father
+never mentioned his name, but my mother would sometimes tell me that he
+had ruined the family. That he spent much I know; but I am inclined to
+think that his undutiful conduct occasioned my great-grandfather to
+bequeath a part of his property from him.
+
+My father, I fear, revenged in some measure the cause of my
+great-grandfather. He was, as I have heard my mother say, "a very wild
+young man, who could be kept to nothing." He was sent to the
+grammar-school at Exeter; from which he made his escape, and entered on
+board a man of war. He was soon reclaimed from this situation by my
+grandfather, and left his school, a second time, to wander in some
+vagabond society.[A] He was now probably given up, for he was, on his
+return from this notable adventure, reduced to article himself to a
+plumber and glazier, with whom he luckily staid long enough to learn the
+business. I suppose his father was now dead, for he became possessed of
+two small estates, married my mother,[B] the daughter of a carpenter at
+Ashburton, and thought himself rich enough to set up for himself; which
+he did with some credit, at South Molton. Why he chose to fix there, I
+never inquired; but I learned from my mother, that after a residence of
+four or five years he was again thoughtless enough to engage in a
+dangerous frolic, which drove him once more to sea. This was an attempt
+to excite a riot in a methodist chapel; for which his companions were
+prosecuted, and he fled, as I have mentioned.
+
+My father was a good seaman, and was soon made second in command in the
+Lyon, a large armed transport in the service of government: while my
+mother (then with child of me) returned to her native place, Ashburton,
+where I was born, in April, 1757.
+
+The resources of my mother were very scanty. They arose from the rent of
+three or four small fields, which yet remained unsold. With these,
+however, she did what she could for me; and as soon as I was old enough
+to be trusted out of her sight, sent me to a school-mistress of the
+name of Parret, from whom I learned in due time to read. I cannot boast
+much of my acquisitions at this school; they consisted merely of the
+contents of the "Child's Spelling Book;" but from my mother, who had
+stored up the literature of a country town, which about half a century
+ago, amounted to little more than what was disseminated by itinerant
+ballad-singers, or rather, readers, I had acquired much curious
+knowledge of Catskin, and the Golden Bull, and the Bloody Gardener, and
+many other histories equally instructive and amusing.
+
+My father returned from sea in 1764. He had been at the siege of the
+Havanna; and though he received more than a hundred pounds for prize
+money, and his wages were considerable; yet, as he had not acquired any
+strict habits of economy, he brought home but a trifling sum. The little
+property yet left was therefore turned into money; a trifle more was got
+by agreeing to renounce all future pretensions to an estate at
+Totness;[C] and with this my father set up a second time as a glazier
+and house-painter. I was now about eight years old, and was put to the
+free-school, kept by Hugh Smerdon, to learn to read and write, and
+cypher. Here I continued about three years, making a most wretched
+progress, when my father fell sick and died. He had not acquired wisdom
+from his misfortunes, but continued wasting his time in unprofitable
+pursuits, to the great detriment of his business. He loved drink for the
+sake of society, and to this love he fell a martyr; dying of a decayed
+and ruined constitution before he was forty. The town's people thought
+him a shrewd and sensible man, and regretted his death. As for me, I
+never greatly loved him; I had not grown up with him; and he was too
+prone to repulse my little advances to familiarity, with coldness, or
+anger. He had certainly some reason to be displeased with me, for I
+learned little at school, and nothing at home, though he would now and
+then attempt to give me some insight into the business. As impressions
+of any kind are not very strong at the age of eleven or twelve, I did
+not long feel his loss; nor was it a subject of much sorrow to me, that
+my mother was doubtful of her ability to continue me at school, though I
+had by this time acquired a love for reading.
+
+I never knew in what circumstances my mother was left; most probably
+they were inadequate to her support, without some kind of exertion,
+especially as she was now burthened with a second child, about six or
+eight months old. Unfortunately she determined to prosecute my father's
+business; for which purpose she engaged a couple of journeymen, who,
+finding her ignorant of every part of it, wasted her property, and
+embezzled her money. What the consequence of this double fraud would
+have been, there was no opportunity of knowing, as, in somewhat less
+than a twelvemonth, my poor mother followed my father to the grave. She
+was an excellent woman, bore my father's infirmities with patience and
+good humour, loved her children dearly, and died at last, exhausted with
+anxiety and grief more on their account than on her own.
+
+I was not quite thirteen when this happened; my little brother was
+hardly two; and we had not a relation nor a friend in the world. Every
+thing that was left was seized by a person of the name of C----, for
+money advanced to my mother. It may be supposed that I could not dispute
+the justice of his claims; and as no one else interfered, he was
+suffered to do as he liked. My little brother was sent to the
+alms-house, whither his nurse followed him out of pure affection; and I
+was taken to the house of the person I have just mentioned, who was also
+my godfather. Respect for the opinion of the town, which, whether
+correct or not, was, that he had repaid himself by the sale of my
+mother's effects, induced him to send me again to school, where I was
+more diligent than before, and more successful. I grew fond of
+arithmetic, and my master began to distinguish me: but these golden days
+were over in less than three months. C----sickened at the expense; and,
+as the people were now indifferent to my fate, he looked round for an
+opportunity of ridding himself of a useless charge. He had previously
+attempted to engage me in the drudgery of husbandry. I drove the plough
+for one day to gratify him, but I left it with a firm resolution to do
+so no more, and in despite of his threats and promises, adhered to my
+determination. In this I was guided no less by necessity than will.
+During my father's life, in attempting to clamber up a table I had
+fallen backward, and drawn it after me: its edge fell upon my breast,
+and I never recovered the effects of the blow; of which I was made
+extremely sensible on any extraordinary exertion. Ploughing, therefore,
+was out of the question, and, as I have already said, I utterly refused
+to follow it.
+
+As I could write and cypher, as the phrase is, C----next thought of
+sending me to Newfoundland, to assist in a store-house. For this purpose
+he negotiated with a Mr. Holdsworthy of Dartmouth, who agreed to fit me
+out. I left Ashburton with little expectation of seeing it again, and
+indeed with little care, and rode with my godfather to the dwelling of
+Mr. Holdsworthy. On seeing me, this great man observed with a look of
+pity and contempt, that I was "too small," and sent me away sufficiently
+mortified. I expected to be very ill received by my godfather, but he
+said nothing. He did not, however, choose to take me back himself, but
+sent me in the passage-boat to Totness, whence I was to walk home. On
+the passage, the boat was driven by a midnight storm on the rocks, and I
+escaped with life almost by a miracle.
+
+My godfather had now humbler views for me, and I had little heart to
+resist any thing. He proposed to send me on board one of the Torbay
+fishing boats; I ventured, however, to remonstrate against this, and the
+matter was compromised by my consenting to go on board a coaster. A
+coaster was speedily found for me at Brixham, and thither I went when
+little more than thirteen.
+
+My master, whose name was Full, though a gross and ignorant, was not an
+ill natured man; at least not to me: and my mistress used me with
+unvarying kindness; moved perhaps by my weakness and tender years. In
+return, I did what I could to requite her, and my good will was not
+overlooked.
+
+Our vessel was not very large, nor our crew very numerous. On ordinary
+occasions, such as short trips, to Dartmouth, Plymouth, &c. it consisted
+only of my master, an apprentice nearly out of his time, and myself:
+when we had to go further, to Portsmouth for example, an additional hand
+was hired for the voyage.
+
+In this vessel, the Two Brothers, I continued nearly a twelvemonth; and
+here I got acquainted with nautical terms, and contracted a love for the
+sea, which a lapse of thirty years has but little diminished.
+
+It will easily be conceived that my life was a life of hardship. I was
+not only a "ship-boy on the high and giddy mast," but also in the cabin,
+where every menial office fell to my lot: yet if I was restless and
+discontented, I can safely say, it was not so much on account of this,
+as of my being precluded from all possibility of reading; as my master
+did not possess, nor do I recollect seeing during the whole time of my
+abode with him, a single book of any description except the Coasting
+Pilot.
+
+As my lot seemed to be cast, however, I was not negligent in seeking
+such information as promised to be useful; and I therefore frequented,
+at my leisure hours, such vessels as dropt into Torbay. On attempting to
+get on board one of these, which I did at midnight, I missed my footing,
+and fell into the sea. The floating away of the boat alarmed the man on
+deck, who came to the ship's side just in time to see me sink. He
+immediately threw out several ropes, one of which providentially (for I
+was unconscious of it) entangled itself about me, and I was drawn up to
+the surface, till a boat could be got round. The usual methods were
+taken to recover me, and I awoke in bed the next morning, remembering
+nothing but the horror I felt when I first found myself unable to cry
+out for assistance.
+
+This was not my only escape, but I forbear to speak of them. An escape
+of another kind was now preparing for me, which deserves all my notice,
+as it was decisive of my future fate.
+
+On Christmas day, 1770, I was surprised by a message from my godfather,
+saying that he had sent a man and horse to bring me to Ashburton; and
+desiring me to set out without delay. My master as well as myself,
+supposed it was to spend the holydays there; and he, therefore, made no
+objection to my going. We were, however, both mistaken.
+
+Since I had lived at Brixham, I had broken off all connexion with
+Ashburton. I had no relation there but my poor brother,[D] who was yet
+too young for any kind of correspondence: and the conduct of my
+godfather towards me did not entitle him to any portion of my gratitude,
+or kind remembrance. I lived, therefore, in a sort of sullen
+independence on all I had formerly known, and thought without regret, of
+being abandoned by every one to my fate. But I had not been overlooked.
+The women of Brixham, who travelled to Ashburton twice a week with fish,
+and who had known my parents, did not see me without kind concern,
+running about the beach in ragged jacket and trowsers. They mentioned
+this to the people of Ashburton, and never without commiserating my
+change of condition. This tale often repeated, awakened at length the
+pity of their auditors, and, as the next step, their resentment against
+the man who had reduced me to such a state of wretchedness. In a large
+town, this would have little effect, but a place like Ashburton, where
+every report speedily becomes the common property of all the
+inhabitants, it raised a murmur which my godfather found himself either
+unable or unwilling to withstand: he therefore determined, as I have
+just observed, to recall me; which he could easily do, as I wanted some
+months of fourteen, and consequently was not yet bound.
+
+All this I learned on my arrival; and my heart, which had been cruelly
+shut up, now opened to kinder sentiments, and fairer views.
+
+After the holydays I returned to my darling pursuit, arithmetic: my
+progress was now so rapid, that in a few months I was at the head of the
+school, and qualified to assist my master (Mr. E. Furlong) on any
+extraordinary emergency. As he usually gave me a trifle on those
+occasions, it raised a thought in me, that by engaging with him as a
+regular assistant, and undertaking the instruction of a few evening
+scholars, I might, with a little additional aid, be enabled to support
+myself. God knows, my ideas of support at this time, were of no very
+extravagant nature. I had, besides, another object in view. Mr. Hugh
+Smerdon, my first master, was now grown old and infirm; it seemed
+unlikely that he should hold out above three or four years; and I fondly
+flattered myself that, notwithstanding my youth, I might possibly be
+appointed to succeed him. I was in my fifteenth year, when I built these
+castles: a storm, however, was collecting, which unexpectedly burst upon
+me, and swept them all away.
+
+On mentioning my little plan to C----, he treated it with the utmost
+contempt; and told me, in his turn, that as I had learned enough, and
+more than enough, at school, he must be considered as having fairly
+discharged his duty (so indeed he had); he added, that he had been
+negotiating with his cousin, a shoemaker of some respectability; who had
+liberally agreed to take me without a fee, as an apprentice. I was so
+shocked at this intelligence, that I did not remonstrate; but went in
+sullenness and silence to my new master, to whom I was soon after
+bound[E] till I should attain the age of twenty-one.
+
+The family consisted of four journeymen, two sons about my own age, and
+an apprentice somewhat older. In these there was nothing remarkable; but
+my master himself was the strangest creature! he was a presbyterian,
+whose reading was entirely confined to the small tracts published on the
+Exeter Controversy. As these (at least his portion of them) were all on
+one side, he entertained no doubt of their infallibility, and being
+noisy and disputatious, was sure to silence his opponents; and became,
+in consequence of it, intolerably arrogant and conceited. He was not,
+however, indebted solely to his knowledge of the subject for his
+triumph: he was possessed of Fenning's Dictionary, and he made a most
+singular use of it. His custom was to fix on any word in common use, and
+then to get by heart the synonym, or periphrasis by which it was
+explained in the book: this he constantly substituted for the other, and
+as his opponents were commonly ignorant of his meaning, his victory was
+complete.
+
+With such a man I was not likely to add much to my stock of knowledge,
+small as it was; and indeed nothing could well be smaller. At this
+period I had read nothing but a black letter romance called Parismus and
+Parismenus, and a few loose magazines which my mother had brought from
+South Molton. The Bible, indeed, I was well acquainted with; it was the
+favourite study of my grandmother, and reading it frequently with her,
+had impressed it strongly on my mind; these then, with the Imitation of
+Thomas a Kempis, which I used to read to my mother on her death-bed,
+constituted the whole of my literary acquisitions.
+
+As I hated my new profession with a perfect hatred, I made no progress
+in it; and was consequently little regarded in the family, of which I
+sunk by degrees into the common drudge: this did not much disquiet me,
+for my spirits were now humbled. I did not, however, quite resign the
+hope of one day succeeding to Mr. Hugh Smerdon, and therefore secretly
+prosecuted my favourite study at every interval of leisure.
+
+These intervals were not very frequent; and when the use I made of them
+was found out, they were rendered still less so. I could not guess the
+motives for this at first; but at length I discovered that my master
+destined his youngest son for the situation to which I aspired.
+
+I possessed at this time but one book in the world: it was a treatise on
+algebra, given to me by a young woman, who had found it in a
+lodging-house. I considered it as a treasure; but it was a treasure
+locked up: for it supposed the reader to be well acquainted with simple
+equation, and I knew nothing of the matter. My master's son had
+purchased Fenning's Introduction: this was precisely what I wanted; but
+he carefully concealed it from me, and I was indebted to chance alone
+for stumbling upon his hiding-place. I sat up for the greatest part of
+several nights successively, and, before he suspected that his treatise
+was discovered, had completely mastered it. I could now enter upon my
+own; and that carried me pretty far into the science.
+
+This was not done without difficulty. I had not a farthing on earth, nor
+a friend to give me one; pen, ink, and paper, therefore, in despite of
+the flippant remark of lord Orford, were, for the most part, as
+completely out of my reach, as a crown and sceptre. There was, indeed, a
+resource; but the utmost caution and secrecy were necessary in applying
+to it. I beat out pieces of leather as smooth as possible, and wrought
+my problems on them with a blunted awl; for the rest my memory was
+tenacious, and I could multiply and divide by it to a great extent.
+
+Hitherto I had not so much as dreamt of poetry: indeed I scarce knew it
+by name; and, whatever may be said of the force of nature, I certainly
+never "lisp'd in numbers." I recollect the occasion of my first attempt:
+it is, like all the rest of my non-adventures, of so unimportant a
+nature, that I should blush to call the attention of the idlest reader
+to it, but for the reason alleged in the introductory paragraph. A
+person, whose name escapes me, had undertaken to paint a sign for an
+alehouse: it was to be a lion, but the unfortunate artist produced a
+dog. On this awkward affair one of my acquaintance wrote a copy of what
+we called verse; I liked it, but fancied I could compose something more
+to the purpose: I tried, and by the unanimous suffrage of my shop-mates
+was allowed to have succeeded. Notwithstanding this encouragement, I
+thought no more of verse, till another occurrence, as trifling as the
+former, furnished me with a fresh subject; and so I went on, till I had
+got together about a dozen of them. Certainly nothing on earth was ever
+so deplorable: such as they were, however, they were talked of in my
+little circle, and I was sometimes invited to repeat them, even out of
+it. I never committed a line to paper for two reasons; first, because I
+had no paper; and secondly--perhaps I might be excused from going
+further; but in truth I was afraid, for my master had already threatened
+me, for inadvertently hitching the name of one of his customers into a
+rhyme.
+
+(_To be concluded in our next._)
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] He had gone with Bamfylde Moore Carew, then an old man.
+
+[B] Her maiden name was Elizabeth Cain. My father's christian name was
+Edward.
+
+[C] This was a lot of small houses, which had been thoughtlessly
+suffered to fall into decay, and of which the rents had been so long
+unclaimed, that they could not now be recovered unless by an expensive
+litigation.
+
+[D] Of my brother here introduced for the last time, I must yet say a
+few words. He was literally
+
+    The child of misery baptized in tears;
+
+and the short passages of his life did not belie the melancholy presage
+of his infancy. When he was seven years old, the parish bound him out to
+a husbandman of the name of Leman, with whom he endured incredible
+hardships, which I had it not in my power to alleviate. At nine years of
+age he broke his thigh; and I took that opportunity to teach him to read
+and write. When my own situation was improved, I persuaded him to try
+the sea; he did so, and was taken on board the Egmont, on condition that
+his master should receive his wages. The time was now fast approaching
+when I could serve him, but he was doomed to know no favourable change
+of fortune: he fell sick, and died at Cork.
+
+[E] My indenture, which now lies before me, is dated the first of
+January, 1772.
+
+
+
+
+BIOGRAPHY--FOR THE MIRROR.
+
+SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE LATE MR. HODGKINSON.
+
+(_Continued from page 297._)
+
+
+The regulations of society, and the accidents of life too often thwart
+the intentions of nature. Multitudes of human beings are in every age
+poured forth from her inexhaustible stores, with inherent powers to rise
+to distinction in the highest provinces of art and science, who yet are
+condemned by the obstructions which worldly circumstance throws in their
+way, to languish in obscurity--to live dejected and to die unknown. Some
+whose natural endowments would, under less unpropitious circumstances,
+qualify them to reach the summit of fame, are fettered by want of
+patronage and pecuniary distress, while others are cramped in their
+efforts by a complexional sensibility which they cannot overcome, and
+checked in enterprise by diffidence and timidity, the natural offspring
+of a refined and delicate structure.
+
+If genius were always associated with physical force and constitutional
+vigour, we should have had the dignities of the world more appropriately
+filled than they are, and many who lord it would be found with their
+necks bent in humiliation.
+
+    How many then should cover that stand bare!
+    How many be commanded that command!
+
+Where mental and constitutional force are combined, and extraordinary
+talents are sustained by resolution, confidence, vigorous animal
+spirits, and the perseverance and indefatigable industry, supplied by
+corporal strength, the obstructions must be numerous and great that can
+prevent the possessor from rising. In Hodgkinson those requisites were
+united in an eminent degree. No adversity could crush his energies, no
+prosperity impair his industry. It was but a few months before his
+death that old Mr. Whitlock under whose management Hodgkinson had early
+in life played in the north of England, said to this writer, "John had
+as much work in him as any two players I ever knew--he's the same in
+that respect now, and will be the same to the end of the chapter."
+
+Something of this the reader may have already perceived in the specimens
+afforded by H's boyish adventures. His forcing his way to the notice of
+one of the most respectable managers in England, and obtaining a footing
+upon the stage, when not fifteen years of age, would appear incredible
+if it were not so much a matter of notoriety as to be subject to
+demonstrative proof. Intimately as the writer thought himself acquainted
+with the minutest circumstances of H's first adventures at Bristol, he
+finds that there was one which either he had forgotten, or H. had
+neglected to mention to him. Though it be of no very great moment, yet
+as it serves to thicken the circumstances which elucidate the boy's
+character, it is introduced in this place. Since the publication of the
+last number of The Mirror, the editor received the following letter
+directed to "the biographer of Mr. Hodgkinson."
+
+     "Sir,
+
+     "Considering the circumstantial minuteness with which you
+     have related the youthful adventures of Mr. H. I am
+     surprised at your not mentioning one which I know to be a
+     fact. On the first night's performance of the company after
+     his arrival at Bristol, his passionate love of the stage
+     made him imprudent enough to throw away two shillings for a
+     seat in the gallery, which left him with only ninepence in
+     his pocket. Wishing your work success,
+
+            "I am yours obediently,
+
+                "_An old friend of John Hodgkinson._"
+
+Upon mentioning this to another most intimate friend of the deceased in
+this city, he said that he was sure the fact was so, as H. had more than
+once mentioned it to him in the chitchat of their convivial hours.
+
+Of his theatrical employment while a boy at Bristol, he was not in the
+habit of mentioning particulars. Either there was nothing interesting in
+it as a story, or it was so low that he felt no pleasure in dwelling
+upon it. He helped to make up the crowd in a spectacle and occasionally
+delivered letters and short messages on the stage: but his most
+important and useful occupation was singing in choruses. In the dirge in
+Romeo and Juliet he had a part allotted him, and never could forget the
+mortification he felt when a person of consequence inquired of the
+manager which of the _ladies_ it was that so far exceeded all the rest
+in the power and sweetness of her voice. The praises bestowed on his
+voice were poison to his ambitious young heart, when coupled with an
+impeachment of his manhood.
+
+There is one anecdote, however, of which though this writer has but an
+obscure recollection, he thinks worth mentioning, as it serves to throw
+a small ray of light upon one of H's characteristic foibles. One
+evening, being in full glee, and talking of his early life to this
+writer and three or four more of his acquaintances, he said that the
+first time he ever received, specifically on his own account, the
+slightest mark of applause was on this occasion. He had a letter to
+deliver in a certain play or farce of the name of which the writer has
+not at this moment the slightest recollection. The person to whom he was
+to give the letter was, according to the plan of the piece, in very
+ridiculous circumstances, scuffling with his wife, which he vainly
+endeavoured to conceal. After handing him the letter it was H's business
+to retire; but the comedian acted his part so naturally and looked so
+ridiculously rueful, that it completely discomposed the boy's nerves, so
+that just as he got to the side wing, and was about to disappear, he
+could not help turning about and looking back at the man, and in spite
+of him burst into a fit of laughter, which he endeavoured to suppress by
+putting his hand to his mouth. The audience thinking it was purposely
+done in character, were astonished at the natural way in which the boy
+acted it, and gave him loud marks of approbation--"I dare say,"
+continued H. "I looked devilish odd at the time, for the house laughed
+incontinently." "Ay, ay," gravely replied a young Irishman who was
+present, "I dare say it was your _game eye_ they laughed at." Down fell
+the muscles of poor H's face--he changed colour, and was for sometime
+before he could rally his spirit or recover his pleasantry.[F]
+
+His time, however, was not lost or misapplied. He had an inexhaustible
+thirst for knowledge, and therefore read, with ardour and industry,
+every book he could lay his hands upon; and he has told this writer,
+that if reading had been painful to him, his ambition was so ascendant,
+and his determination to rise in the world so unalterable, that he would
+not have read less. Strong indeed must have been the internal impulse
+which made a boy of his age and spirits, his own voluntary task-master,
+which induced him to lay the pleasures natural to his age at the feet of
+a laudable purpose, and to devote to useful labour a portion of his
+time, greater than the most diligent college book-worms devote to their
+studies. He has declared to this writer that in summer time he rarely
+gave more than five hours out of the four and twenty to sleep. The rest
+was devoted to reading, refreshment by food, attendance on the stage,
+and the practice of music. These constituted the whole of his
+amusements; except that, when at Bath, he went out sporting--not to
+shoot, but to see others shooting. One of the players who was a
+sportsman, was a favourite of some of the _great_ men in the
+neighbourhood, and often went out shooting with them. On these occasions
+H. accompanied him, carried his hawking-bag, powder magazine, shot, &c.
+and helped to mark the birds when they sprung. Thus was generated the
+passion for dogs and shooting to which he was afterwards so warmly
+addicted, and which indeed was, in the end, the cause of his death.
+
+The worthy prompter supplied him with books, a benefit he derived from
+the following circumstance. In Bristol there is a lane or street
+occupied by venders of second-hand articles of various kinds. Thither he
+one day repaired to buy, if possible, a pair of cheap silk
+stockings:--poor John, like many others in the world, was most vain of
+that part of him which was least handsome. As he sauntered along
+inspecting the goods that lay exposed to view, he saw a bookstand, at
+which he stopped, and with greedy eye devoured each title-page. An odd
+volume of Harris's Hermes caught his fancy, and after having pondered
+for some time on the alternative, whether he should postpone legs in
+favour of head, or _vice versa_, he concluded on the former, saying to
+himself that _Hermes_ would be snatched up by the first person who saw
+it; but that the second hand silk stockings could be got at any time.
+The volume was eighteen pence; yet so restricted was our hero's
+finances, that this little sum deranged his stocking plan for a week.
+
+His friend the prompter, seeing the book with him, took it out of his
+hand, and looking at it, told him he had thrown away his money in buying
+such stuff, and exhorted him not to waste his time in reading it. On
+coming to an explanation with him, the good man finding the boy intent
+upon improvement, benevolently told him that he should neither want
+proper books, nor instructions how to make use of them. He then lent him
+Lowth's grammar, and pointed out the most useful places. H. read it
+diligently, and though he seldom forgot any thing he once read, he
+perused Lowth three or four times over. The literary knowledge of H. was
+one of the most astonishing circumstances about him. It is doubtful
+whether on the day he died, he left a more perfect orthoepist living
+behind him. Indeed his attainments, particularly in poetry and critical
+science were so great, considering his early privation of means, that
+with all the aid derived from his frequent and free communications, the
+writer of this has often found it difficult to account for them
+satisfactorily.
+
+From this period of H's life all is an hiatus till his connexion with
+the celebrated James Whiteley, manager of the most extensive midland
+circuit ever known in England; viz. Worcester, Wolverhampton, Derby,
+Nottingham, Retford and Stamford theatres. Why, how, or when he left
+Bath and Bristol--or whether he was intermediately employed at any other
+theatre, the writer is not in possession of a single fact to enable him
+to determine. Of one Miller, a manager, he has heard H. speak, but not
+with any interest. James Whiteley was the theme on which he most liked
+to dwell. Whiteley was perhaps the greatest oddity on the face of the
+earth; but of a heart sound, and benevolent beyond the generality of
+mankind. Violently passionate, and in his passions vulgar, rude,
+boisterous, and so abhorrent of hypocrisy, that he laboured to make
+himself appear as bad as possible. He was a native of Ireland; and it
+has often been said of him that in eccentricity and benevolence he was a
+full match for any man of that country. He would ridicule and abuse his
+actors in a style of whimsical foulmouthedness peculiar to himself--but
+he would allow no other man living to do it--and while conferring
+substantial benefits upon them, would blackguard them like a
+Billingsgate fishwoman. So essentially did he differ from most other
+managers, that instead of wronging or pinching them, instead of
+intriguing against them, to run them down with the public, in order to
+enhance his own consequence, he was their champion, their sincere
+friend, and the strenuous supporter of their character and of the
+dignity of his company. If they fell into misfortune they found in him a
+father--and, dying rich, he bequeathed to his veteran performers who
+survived him, a weekly salary for life, which those who survive still
+enjoy. Whoever has read or heard of the character of doctor Moncey, may
+form some idea of the oddity of James Whiteley. Whiteley went much
+further than Moncey--for the effusions of his spleen or his humour were
+sometimes too coarse and indelicate to bear public repetition, though
+they still remain the topic of conversation with all who knew him, and
+supply an inexhaustible fund of mirth to all who remember him.
+
+In this extraordinary personage Hodgkinson found the warmest, most
+benevolent friend; and, what may appear strange, a most valuable
+instructor. Himself always appearing wrong, and speaking like one
+cracked, he never failed to set right all those who were guided by his
+advice; and, while his tongue ran riot as if he were drunk or mad, his
+conduct was governed by sound sense and prudence. If ever any thing
+hobby-horsical or pedantic crept into the conversation of Hodgkinson, it
+was his fondness for describing this worthy oddity.
+
+He had heard Whiteley's character described in a variety of quarters,
+and went to him expecting to be ridiculed, blackguarded, and patronised.
+Nor was he disappointed. Under his auspices, H. grew up, acquired
+professional knowledge, and, considering his age, much fame. A whole
+number of this work would not contain the anecdotes which, in his
+cheerful moments, Hodgkinson has related to this writer, of Whiteley's
+worth and eccentricities; but the humour and oddity of them were of a
+kind not only too coarse for general perusal, but so dependant for
+effect upon the manner of telling them, that it would be idle to relate
+them here. Their first meeting, however, and the conversation on that
+occasion may be hazarded. A gentleman of the name of Mills, an old
+friend of W's and much in his good graces, introduced our youth to him,
+having previously obtained his consent to see the lad, and consider what
+line of business he was fit for. "You must not," said this mutual
+friend, "take ill any thing that Whiteley says to you. He is a kind of
+privileged person--_says_ what he pleases to every one, and _does_ all
+the good he can. But this I can tell you, that if he treats you
+ceremoniously (for no man can be more perfectly the gentleman when he
+pleases) you have no chance with him.
+
+"My name being announced," said H. relating to this writer his first
+interview, "Jemmy Whiteley surveyed me from head to foot with a grinning
+drollery, that no words can describe; he spat out, according to custom,
+about a score of times, and after a tittering laugh was proceeding to
+speak, when he was suddenly called off." "Stay here," said he, "I'll be
+back in a minute or two." As he was leaving the room he stopped at the
+door--looked back at me again--pulled up his small clothes, and
+jeeringly tittered at me in a manner that was enough to provoke a saint,
+if it were not for the man's well known character. "It will do I see,"
+said my friend, "depend upon it, it will do--dont mind his sayings; but
+when you come to business, be plain, downright and firm, and you'll have
+his heart." When W. returned, he again surveyed me from head to foot,
+and again grinned and tittered. I was almost as tall as I am now, and as
+thin perhaps as you ever saw any one of the same height. My face too was
+pale from recent indisposition, and I had no appearance of beard. "So,"
+said he, addressing Mills, "this is the chap about whom you gave me such
+a platter of stirabout with Ballyhack butter[G] in it yesterday." So far
+from being vexed or daunted by this first address, the like of which I
+had never heard before, nor could well understand, the playful,
+good-natured drollery in his face, and the singularity of his deportment
+tickled me so, that I could not, if it were to save my life, suppress a
+smile of merriment, upon which after scrutinizing my face with the eye
+of a master of his business, he turned to the other and said, "the
+blackguard has some fun in him I see, though he looks as if a dinner
+would not come amiss to him--for he's as slim as a starved greyhound;"
+then casting a comical glance at my clothes which were neat, good, and
+new--he said, "Why boy, your belly ought to swear its life against your
+back, for you are killing the one to cover the other." I blushed, but
+still could not help laughing. "You are mistaken Whiteley," said the
+other, "there is not a man in your company eats better than John."
+"Where does he get it?" said W. "he cant have above half a guinea a week
+for his salary, and the clothes now on his back must cost at least
+twenty half guineas, or perhaps half a year's pay." "Go on Whiteley,"
+said the other, "discharge all your Irish nonsense upon his head, he has
+temper to bear it all; in the meantime I'll take a walk, and come back
+again: but let me know what time you intend to be done, that I may be
+ready to a minute; for in matters of business Whiteley, you know I like
+to be punctual." W. understood this sarcasm, and turning to Mills,
+poured forth such a volley of whim and oddity as I think never fell from
+the lips of any other man in this world. When he was in this vein of
+humour, he had, in addition to the comic cast of his countenance, a lisp
+and a brogue which enhanced his drollery, and at every pause he drew in
+his breath as if he were sipping out of a teaspoon. He began, "Now you
+think yourself a very clever fellow after that oration, dont you! you
+feel aisy I hope Mr. Mills, after throwing that wisp of bullrushes off
+your stomach! have you made your speech, honey?" Mills laughed and bowed
+submission. "Pull down your cap then, my dear, and be hanged." Then
+turning to me, "Take care of yourself, boy, for if you mind what this
+man says to you, you'll come to the gallows: you stand a chance of that
+as it is, or I am very much out in my reckoning; but if you follow his
+advice, you will be hanged as dead as Jack the painter, or my name's not
+Jemmy Whiteley." "Never in my life before or since," continued H. "was I
+so astonished, or so diverted. In the midst of all the ribaldry of his
+mouth and the farce of his countenance, the benevolence of his heart
+glistened in his eyes;--my nerves were convulsed with a twofold
+sensation, and actually so enfeebled that, bursting into a fit of
+laughter I, unbidden, sat down in a large arm chair that stood behind
+me." "What's this his name is," said he to Mills: "Hodgkinson," replied
+the other. "I thought that there must be an O or a MAC to his name by
+the _aisy affability_ with which he helped himself to the great chair.
+Old Maclaughlin, that blackguard Jew that calls himself Macklin, could
+not surpass it for _modesty_." I rose. "Och, to the d--l with your
+manners honey," said he, clapping his two hands on my shoulders and
+pressing me down into the chair, "stay there since you're in it, and be
+d----d to you."
+
+"Well, Whiteley," said my friend, "as you think my advice might be fatal
+to the young man, give him some advice yourself. What do you think he
+had best do? what do you think fittest for him?" "Any fool can tell him
+that," returned Whiteley: "the best and the first thing I advise him to
+do, is to eat a hearty meal, and as I dare say he has not a jingle[H] in
+his pocket, I advise him to stay here and dine; and you may stay along
+with him, if you please." "I cant--I'm engaged," said the other. "Then
+if _you_ dont, the d----l a crust shall _he_ crack here." Upon which,
+turning to me, he said, "see what you can do with him, boy--if you cant
+keep him along with you, you dont get a toothful in this house." I
+looked foolishly at my friend, who said, "Well, if that be the case, I
+must stay;" upon which W. making me a very low formal bow, gravely said,
+"I thank you, sir, for the great honour this gentleman does me, in
+condescending to eat a piece of the best leg of mutton in the north of
+England."
+
+"W. then sat down, but he overflowed so with oddity, that business was
+out of the question. Every three minutes produced an explosion of the
+most extravagant kind--often full of humour, sometimes witty, always
+coarse. It was in vain that my friend now urged, and now insinuated the
+subject of the stage; Whiteley baffled him with a joke or a jeer, or a
+story--and sometimes with a transition so extreme, rapid, and
+unconnected, that it was impossible to do any thing with him. My
+singing was adverted to. "Ay," said Whiteley, "I suspected he was one of
+your squallers; I thought from his chalky face and lank carcase that he
+was of the Italian breed, and that his story would end in a song. Did
+you ever see Signor _Tenducci_, boy?" "No sir." "No matter, you are not
+the worse for that; but I have nothing to do with _Italianos_. I have
+none but men and women in my company." I then ventured to advert to the
+English opera and hinted at my old favourite The Padlock. "Why if I were
+disposed to try you, there is nothing in the Padlock that you could play
+and I could give you. The part of Ursula is filled by the same old lady
+who has played it for years in my theatres." The torrent could not be
+resisted, so we swam along with it, and laughed heartily. "You are too
+bad Jemmy Whiteley," said Mr. Mills, "by my soul, you're too bad." "Oh I
+am a very bad fellow to be sure; you'll talk on the other side of your
+cheek by and by, when you are swallowing my old ale and red port at
+three and six pence a bottle."
+
+"At length dinner was announced, and to tell you the truth, I had much
+rather have gone without any than sat down to dine. I was at the best
+very bashful, and Whiteley's coarse insinuation that I wanted a dinner,
+though jocularly spoken, stuck in my throat, and made me blush heartily
+when he helped me. But now his manner was changed, and he displayed such
+unfeigned hospitality, and such an earnest desire that we should enjoy
+ourselves, showing us himself the example, that before dinner was half
+over, I was perfectly comfortable. He pressed me to drink, but was
+greatly pleased at my refusing to comply. In a word, no two men were
+ever more different than Jemmy Whiteley in the rhodomontade of the
+morning and Mr. James Whiteley at his own hospitable, respectable board.
+He and my friend chatted and drank cheerfully. I looked on, listened,
+and sung two or three songs for them at Mr. W's request. When my friend
+made a motion to go, the good manager thus addressed me: "look you my
+good lad, when the waiter of a tavern or the potboy of a porter-house
+presents me a pot of beer or ale, I always blow off the froth from the
+top or wait till it subsides, and then bring it to the light and look
+down carefully through it, lest it should be muddy or foul, or have some
+dirt such as a candle-snuff, a mouse, a toad, or some trifle of that
+kind floating in it: in a word, to know what I am about to swallow. Just
+so I deal with men, when they approach me in a way that seeks connexion:
+for I dont like changing, and I greatly detest the fallings out and
+fallings in again which seem to make up the business and pleasure of so
+many in this life. While I was blackguarding you and you staring and
+laughing at me, I was looking down through your contents from your
+frothy powdered head down to the very bottom; and so, if your friend and
+you will call here tomorrow morning, I will try to bring my tongue down
+to some serious conversation with you.""
+
+In a word, our youth next day found himself placed with a man of
+justice, honour, and generosity, with whom he remained till the grave
+terminated the contract. Whiteley's passions were so lively, and bad
+habit had so devested him of all control over his tongue that he would
+d--n and curse his actors, and call them foul names, even during the
+performance of the stage, and that too so loud that the audience would
+frequently hear him. Yet he was in substantial concerns a truly
+excellent man.
+
+The next place in which Hodgkinson can be distinctly traced is the
+northern line of theatres, then under the management of Whitlock and
+Munden, viz. Newcastle, Sheffield, Lancaster, Preston, Warrington, and
+Chester. In the course of his business in this circuit, the extension of
+his fame more than kept pace with his years, and he was soon looked upon
+as the most promising actor of his age. At first he was valued chiefly
+for his musical talents. A gentleman now residing in Philadelphia was
+present at his first appearance in that circuit at Preston in
+Lancashire. A valuable actor and singer was put out of the character of
+Lubin in the Quaker, to make way for H's debut in that character, in
+which he was not so warmly received as the managers expected, being
+_encored_ in only one of the songs. His matchless industry, however,
+grafted on his great talents, soon produced a rich harvest of the most
+excellent fruits. He became a very useful general actor, played any
+thing and every thing the managers thought it their interest to appoint
+him to, whether tragedy, comedy, opera, or farce; and too confident in
+his own powers to be captious or fastidious, he never reneged an
+inferior part, when it was the managers' interest he should play it,
+even when, by the laws of the theatre, he was entitled to the first. Mr.
+Whitlock told this writer that H. did _with good will_ more work than
+any two performers they had. "I have known him," said the old gentleman,
+"after performing in both play and after-piece at Newcastle in
+Northumberland, set off without taking a moment's rest in a post-chaise,
+travel all night, and rehearse the next day and perform the next night
+in play and farce at Preston in Lancashire."
+
+Powerful as were his talents, he would not, in all probability, have
+risen to acknowledged eminence in his profession for many years, if he
+had not fallen under the observation of Mrs. Siddons. That extraordinary
+actress, little less illustrious for private virtues than splendid
+talents, being engaged one summer in the northern theatres, observed
+with pleasure and astonishment, a young man of abilities far above the
+crowd that played with him. To adopt her own words, she at the first
+glance discerned a rough, uncleansed diamond sparkling in a heap of
+rubbish that surrounded it, and through the soil with which it still was
+encrusted emitting brilliant rays of light. It was her delight to
+stretch forth her mighty hand to raise genius from depression, and
+resolving to raise Hodgkinson she took the most decisive means to do so.
+She appointed him to perform the principal characters to her in every
+play in which she acted and brought him for the purpose along with her
+to all the provincial theatres in which she was engaged.
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[F] Handsome as H. was, he had a strange defect in his eyes: one of them
+was smaller than the other, and in his efforts to reduce them to an
+equality, he sometimes produced a whimsical archness of physiognomy. He
+did not relish its being noticed, however, and thought the young
+Irishman very rude.
+
+[G] In the low cant of the Irish, gross adulation is called _the dirty
+butter of Ballyhack_.
+
+[H] A JINGLE--means a very small piece of coin in the slang of the low
+Irish.
+
+
+
+
+NOKES.
+
+     Colley Cibber has transmitted to us in his apology, the
+     following character of the greatest of all comedians.
+
+
+Nokes was an actor of a quite different genius from any I have ever
+read, heard of, or seen, since or before his time; and yet his general
+excellence may be comprehended in one article, viz. a plain and palpable
+simplicity of nature, which was so utterly his own, that he was often as
+unaccountably diverting in his common speech, as on the stage. I saw him
+once, giving an account of some table talk, to another actor behind the
+scenes, which a man of quality accidentally listening to, was so
+deceived by his manner, that he asked him if that was a new play he was
+rehearsing? it seems almost amazing, that this simplicity, so easy to
+Nokes, should never be caught by any one of his successors. Leigh and
+Underhill have been well copied, though not equalled by others. But not
+all the mimical skill of Estcourt (famed as he was for it) though he had
+often seen Nokes, could scarce give us an idea of him. After this
+perhaps it will be saying less of him, when I own, that though I have
+still the sound of every line he spoke, in my ear, which used not to be
+thought a bad one, yet I have often tried, by myself, but in vain, to
+reach the least distant likeness of the _vis comica_ of Nokes. Though
+this may seem little to his praise, it may be negatively saying a good
+deal to it, because I have never seen any one actor, except himself,
+whom I could not, at least so far imitate, as to give a more than
+tolerable notion of his manner. But Nokes was so singular a species, and
+was so formed by nature, for the stage, that I question if, beyond the
+trouble of getting words by heart, it ever cost him an hour's labour to
+arrive at that high reputation he had and deserved.
+
+The characters he particularly shone in, were Sir Martin Marrall, Gomez
+in the Spanish Friar, Sir Nicolas Cully in Love in a Tub, Barnaby
+Brittle in the Wanton Wife, Sir Davy Dunce in the Soldier's Fortune,
+Sosia in Amphytrion, &c. &c. To tell you how he acted them, is beyond
+the reach of criticism: but to tell you what effect his action had upon
+the spectator, is not impossible: this then is all you will expect from
+me, and hence I must leave you to guess at him.
+
+He scarce ever made his first entrance in a play, but he was received
+with an involuntary applause, not of hands only, for those may be, and
+have often been partially prostituted, and bespoken; but by a general
+laughter, which the very sight of him provoked, and nature could not
+resist; yet the louder the laugh, the graver was his look upon it; and
+sure, the ridiculous solemnity of his features were enough to set a
+whole bench of bishops into a titter, could he have been honoured (may
+it be no offence to suppose it) with such grave and right reverend
+auditors. In the ludicrous distresses, which by the laws of comedy,
+Folly is often involved in; he sunk into such a mixture of piteous
+pusillanimity, and a consternation so ruefully ridiculous and
+inconsolable, that when he had shook you, to a fatigue of laughter, it
+became a moot point, whether you ought not to have pitied him. When he
+debated any matter by himself, he would shut up his mouth with a dumb
+studious pout, and roll his full eye into such a vacant amazement, such
+a palpable ignorance of what to think of it, that his silent perplexity
+(which would sometimes hold him several minutes) gave your imagination
+as full content, as the most absurd thing he could say upon it. In the
+character of Sir Martin Marrall, who is always committing blunders to
+the prejudice of his own interest, when he had brought himself to a
+dilemma in his affairs, by vainly proceeding upon his own head, and was
+afterwards afraid to look his governing servant and counsellor in the
+face; what a copious, and distressful harangue have I seen him make with
+his looks, while the house has been in one continued roar for several
+minutes, before he could prevail with his courage to speak a word to
+him! then might you have, at once, read in his face _vexation_--that his
+own measures, which he had piqued himself upon, had failed. _Envy_--of
+his servant's superior wit--_distress_--to retrieve, the occasion he
+had lost. _Shame_--to confess his folly; and yet a sullen desire, to be
+reconciled and better advised for the future! what tragedy ever showed
+us such a tumult of passions rising at once in one bosom! or what
+buskined hero standing under the load of them, could have more
+effectually moved his spectators, by the most pathetic speech, than poor
+miserable Nokes did, by this silent eloquence, and piteous plight of his
+features?
+
+His person was of the middle size, his voice clear and audible; his
+natural countenance grave and sober; but the moment he spoke, the
+settled seriousness of his features was utterly discharged, and a dry,
+drolling, or laughing levity took such full possession of him, that I
+can only refer the idea of him to your imagination. In some of his low
+characters, that became it, he had a shuffling shamble in his gait, with
+so contented an ignorance in his aspect, and an awkward absurdity in his
+gesture, that had you not known him, you could not have believed, that
+naturally he could have had a grain of common sense. In a word, I am
+tempted to sum up the character of Nokes, as a comedian, in a parody of
+what Shakspeare's _Mark Antony_ says of _Brutus_ as a hero.
+
+    His life was laughter, and the ludicrous
+    So mix'd, in him, that nature might stand up,
+    And say to all the world--this was an _actor_.
+
+
+
+
+MISCELLANY.
+
+
+THEOBALDUS SECUNDUS,
+OR
+SHAKSPEARE AS HE SHOULD BE.
+
+NO. IV.
+
+_Hamlet Prince of Denmark, continued._
+
+Latin and Greek are the only tongues in which departed spirits can be
+addressed, for this reason they are denominated the _dead_ languages.
+The nonappearance of these supernatural beings in the present day, may
+be fairly ascribed to the decay of the learned languages. COBBET, with
+all his volubility, has not a word to throw at a ghost. Johnson says:
+
+    When Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes,
+    First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakspeare rose.
+
+This is converting learning into a bricklayer, and would have come with
+a better grace from Ben Jonson than from Sam. But however that may be,
+under such an architect, ghosts would naturally be enrolled in the
+company. Dr. Farmer may say what he pleases, but I firmly believe
+Shakspeare had Latin enough to talk to his own ghosts; though I doubt
+whether I can express the same belief as to certain modern writers, who,
+by reviving ghosts to squeal and gibber on the London stages, have taken
+the same liberties as Shakspeare, without taking the same talents--"we
+have no cold beef sir," said the landlady at Glastonbury to a hungry
+traveller; "but we have excellent mustard!" All this however is foreign
+to the Prince of Denmark,
+
+    _Horatio._        ----I have heard,
+    The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
+    Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
+    Awake the god of day.
+
+Doctor Fungus will have it, that cock should be clock, and ground his
+opinions upon the situation of St. Paul's clock. But this would spoil
+the poetry of the whole passage. What an accurate picture does the
+creative pencil of our great poet present to the _mind's eye_! The
+epithet _lofty_ has fallen through the sieves of all the commentators
+excepting Theobaldus Secundus. It obviously alludes to the high roosting
+perch of that valiant bird; nor is the mythological imagery in this
+sentence to be passed by without its merited eulogium. Lingo, by way of
+_agreeable surprise_, informs us that the cock is the bird of
+Pallas--Pallas is the goddess of wisdom, and of course an early
+riser----
+
+    Early to bed, and early to rise, &c.
+
+Her favourite bird undoubtedly awoke her with his shrill note, and at
+the same time roused the slumbering fop Phoebus, who answered in the
+words of Dr. Watts----
+
+    "You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber again."
+
+and being the god of wit, when he rubbed his own eyes, doubtless vented
+an imprecation on those of Minerva.
+
+    "Thus wit and judgment ever are at strife."--_Pope._
+
+The moral is obvious;--they who, like Mr. Sheridan, aim only to be men
+of wit, lie a bed; while they who, like Sir Isaac Newton, Mr. Burke, and
+a very few others, aspire to be men of wisdom, rise with the lark.
+Horatio in continuation--
+
+    "The extravagant and erring spirit hies
+    To his confine."
+
+"The extravagant i. e. got out of his bounds"--_Warburton_--Bravo! old
+Hurlo-thumbo! got out of his depth, Warburton, you mean. Extra-vagant
+certainly may be construed out of bounds; we need no ghost with a
+mouthful of Syntax to tell us that; but Shakspeare had too much taste to
+adopt such an absurd Latinism. I have no doubt that the late king was a
+man of expensive habits, and is here compared to a prisoner within the
+rules of the king's bench, who must return to quod at a given moment or
+compliment the marshal with the debt and costs. At the crowing of the
+cock, the extravagant and erring spirit (that is, the spendthrift of a
+defendant) whether he be drinking arrack punch at Vauxhall, champaigne
+at the Mount, or brandy and water at the Eccentries, must kick off his
+glass-slipper, and hobble back to St. George's Fields, like the lame
+bottle-conjuror of Le Sage.
+
+    But look, the morn in russet mantle clad,
+    Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
+
+_Russet mantle!_ what sorry attire for a goddess! I wish the critics
+would settle, once for all, the costume of Aurora; at present she has
+clothes, fingers, feet, bosom, and hair, of as many colours as the
+roquelaure of Joseph. Homer styles her----
+
+    [Greek: Rododaktylos Eos].--Rosy-finger'd morn.
+
+This is more like an old washerwoman than a young goddess. Ovid calls
+her rutilis Aurora capillis. And again--
+
+            Ut solet aer
+    Purpureus fieri, primum Aurora movetur.
+
+I translate "purpureus fieri," a fiery purple. What says Virgil of that
+particoloured damsel----
+
+    Tithoni croceum liquens Aurora cubile.
+
+A golden bed, by the way, is but a poor atonement for a leaden old
+spouse snoring in it.
+
+    Lucia thinks happiness consists in state,
+    She weds an ideot, but she eats off plate.
+
+The moderns have been equally fanciful in describing Aurora. An old song
+says----
+
+    The morning was up gray as a rat,
+    The clock struck something, faith I can't tell what.
+
+And Rosina now says, "see the rosy morn appearing;" and now "the morn
+returns in saffron dress'd."--Selim in Blue Beard, sings, "Gray-eyed
+morn begins to peep," his is no compliment to the beauty of the goddess.
+If she had changed colours with the magician, it would have been well; a
+_gray beard_ is fit for an old man, and _blue eyes_ for a young woman.
+
+And now, reader, "_make way for the speaker_."--The scene draws, and
+discovers a room of state, containing, the King, Queen, Hamlet,
+Polonius, Laertes, Voltimand, Cornelius, Lords, and Attendants. This is
+the first appearance of Hamlet.--Here, then, we must suppose a clapping
+of hands, and a cry of hats off--down--down--you will therefore fancy to
+yourself a young gentleman, arrayed in black velvet, with a plume of
+sable feathers in his bonnet, big enough for the fore-horse of Ophelia's
+hearse. But as in a certain assembly, if a member, however elevated in
+rank, rise to speak late in the evening, he sets his hearers coughing,
+there being no pectoral lozenge equal to an early harangue; and, as
+touching the Lord Hamlet in that manner, would be touching the honour of
+a prince, I shall keep his royal highness as a _bonne bouche_ to open my
+next dissertation.
+
+(_To be Continued._)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DR. JOHN HILL, an author, who to great learning, judgment, sagacity, and
+luminous fancy, joined unparalleled industry, gratified the British
+public for a long time with a diurnal paper wholly from his own pen,
+called "the Inspector." In the course of this work he gave some of the
+most admirable strictures upon the plays and players of his day. From
+that work we intend to give some select passages. The following is
+deserving of particular attention for the truth and accuracy of the
+parallels it presents to our view.
+
+While I admire in Barry the quick conception, the strong expression, and
+the fine taste of Julio Romano; while I hang upon the expression of his
+eyes, when tenderness is the passion to be described by them, and while
+in the several parts of a history, or through the varied scenes of an
+interesting tragedy, I am at once surprised and charmed with the choice
+of attitudes in both, I cannot be blind to the defects that stain as
+well the painting as the scene: there was always what the judges call a
+dryness, a hardness in the painter, and the same foible now and then
+discloses itself in the less guarded moments of the player: neither the
+one nor the other seem to have been perfect masters of the doctrine of
+lights and shadows, and both are therefore sometimes extravagant, and
+not always graceful: this happy difference, however, appears between
+them, that while the arrogance of the painter esteemed his faults as
+excellencies, the player, equally capable of giving advice to himself,
+and of receiving it from others, will soon scandalize all criticism by
+annihilating the foibles that gave it origin.
+
+The genius, the soul of Titian, is revived in Garrick; both give us not
+resemblances, but realities: they do not represent but create, upon the
+canvass or upon the scene; and what from others we would admire as
+representations, we read in these as actions. There is in the
+performance of this player, all the delicacy of taste, and all the
+dignity of expression that we reverence in the painter: his figures,
+where the subject gives him scope, are noble almost beyond imagination,
+his attitudes the most strictly appropriated to the sensations that
+inspire them, and his colouring, to borrow a metaphor from the sister
+art to express an excellence for which the other has yet no word of its
+own, is the greatest that we ever did or ever must expect to see. With
+all the sweetness and delicacy of his imagery, there is a glow of fire
+and freedom that at once surprises and charms his audience, and, like
+his brother artist, he excels all men who have ever been eminent, in the
+peculiar distinguishing touches which separate passion from passion; and
+thence give at once the greatest spirit and the strictest truth to the
+representation. I shall hardly venture to affirm that there is no foible
+in any of the pieces given us by either of these artists; but there is a
+blaze of majesty and beauty, throughout the works of both, that at once
+engages the whole eye, and with its superior lustre dims what may be
+less worthy praise till it becomes indiscernible.
+
+While Bellamy assumes the piety, the tenderness, and the sorrows of a
+Cordelia, or heightens the repentance of a Shore, we own that a Tintoret
+has done some pictures equal to Corregio. The first of these is the
+painter to whom I would resemble this rising actress, the latter only
+breathes in Cibber. No woman ever excelled Miss Bellamy in the
+requisites from nature, and were but her love to the profession, her
+application to its necessary studies, and her patience in going through
+the difficulties that lie in the road to eminence in it, equal to her
+abilities, she would have few equals. The outlines of her figures are
+sometimes faulty, but the colouring always pleases.
+
+All that Corregio executed by the pencil we see in real life from Mrs.
+Cibber; the strength of lights and shadows, of the glaring and the
+obscure, are equal in the representations of both, but were never
+equalled by any other in either art. The dignity of sorrow, and natural
+and unaffected graces which that artist gives to his Madonas, this lady
+diffuses over the whole figure in the tragic scene that requires it; we
+are equally struck by both: we see nothing like either: and we admire
+the execution while we have no conception of the manner in which it is
+performed. The strength and heightening are alike admirable in each, and
+the consummate sweetness only to be rivalled by the expressive strength
+of the colouring. In the conduct and finish of their pieces, both have
+done wonders; and as the pictures of Corregio are so equal in their
+several parts, that, though the labour of years, they seem to have been
+finished in one day, so that the longest characters of this actress are
+so uniform throughout, that it is evident there are no careless
+absences, no false extravagances in any part, but that the whole is the
+resemblance of one temper actuated, though under various circumstances,
+by one passion.
+
+In Mrs. Pritchard one sees revived the extensive powers of Hannibal
+Carrache: while we pursue her through the varied forms she assumes we
+cannot but acknowledge the character of Corregio, the fire of Titian,
+and the dignity of Raphael; this lady, of all the players, as that
+master of all the painters, comes nearest the character of a universal
+genius.
+
+Woodward strikes the judicious eye with a strong resemblance of Paul
+Veronese: he has all the vivacity and ease of that great painter, and
+fully equals him in his fancy for the singular and the shining in his
+draperies; but, as he shares his beauties, he is not without his faults.
+His composition is sometimes improper, and his design always incorrect;
+but with these blemishes, however, his colouring is so well calculated
+to catch the eye, that he never fails to strike at first sight, and
+makes so happy an impression on the generality of an audience, that they
+never perceive what is deficient.
+
+Though the last, not the least in my esteem, Macklin shall be produced;
+nor must those who judge superficially, be surprized when they see me
+call forth for his parallel Michael Angelo. It must be confessed of this
+great painter, that the choice of his attitudes was, though never
+unjust, not always pleasing: that his taste in design was not the most
+minutely fine, nor his outlines the most elegant; that he was sometimes
+extravagant in his conceptions, and bold even to rashness in his
+execution: perhaps the player of the parallel inherits some tincture of
+these faults; but to compensate, he has all his excellencies. He knows
+the foundation of the art better than them all: he designs, if less
+beautifully than some, more accurately than any: he better understands
+nature of the human frame, and the situation and power of its muscles
+than any man who ever played, nor has any man ever understood it like
+him as a science: there is an air of truth in all his figures, a
+greatness and severity in many of them that demand the utmost praise:
+and in the whole, if nature has qualified him less for shining in some
+of the most conspicuous parts than many, none has fewer faults.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_King Lear._
+
+A correspondent has in a former number made some remarks on the
+corruptions, or, as they are called, alterations and adaptations of the
+plays of Shakspeare. As he has not prosecuted the subject, I will, with
+your permission, say a word or two on that vilest and most infamous of
+literary treasons, Tate's burlesque of king Lear.
+
+This tragedy, as written by Shakspeare, is in my opinion the very
+noblest of our author's works; and by the generality of critics, I
+believe, none of his plays are absolutely preferred to it, except
+Macbeth. It is inconceivable how any one could think such a play
+required an alteration beyond the omission of the fool's character; and
+still more so, how Tate's transformation of it could have been at first
+endured by the nation: but that it should have been constantly
+represented at our national theatres for nearly one hundred and thirty
+years to the total exclusion of Shakspeare's divine drama, would be a
+circumstance totally incredible, were it not verified by experience,
+that the majority of an audience are very little troubled with a spirit
+of inquiry, and are no doubt ignorant of the vast difference between the
+two dramas. The play, as now performed "has the upper gallery on its
+side;" whose members, being unacquainted with Shakspeare's tragedy, are
+enchanted by the mad scenes, mangled as they are, and by all that it is
+retained of the original, and therefore they applaud the whole, and
+witness its repetition. But it never could be inferred from their
+applauses, that even these spectators prefer Tate's play to
+Shakspeare's; there is no comparison in the case: they applaud the one,
+because they are pleased with it, not because they are displeased with
+the other, which they never saw, and of which they know nothing. Let the
+classical manager of ---- ---- theatre make a trial; it will be worthy
+his ambition to introduce a reformation, which even Garrick overlooked;
+and he may be assured, that the event will not only add to his
+reputation, but what is a more important consideration with our
+managers, will add to his profits also. Let Shakspeare and Tate have a
+fair struggle; and who can doubt the final triumph of Shakspeare.[I]
+
+Dr. Johnson is the advocate of Tate's alteration; but Addison, whose
+opinion is countenanced by Steevens, declares, that "the tragedy has
+lost half its beauty." Dr. Johnson is in part excusable for maintaining
+so erroneous an opinion; but at the same time his sentiments ought to
+have no weight with others; for we know, that in the present case he has
+formed his judgment, not with that solidity of taste which generally
+distinguishes his criticism, but with all the nervous agitation of a
+hypochondriac. But why should he defend his opinion by arguments at once
+unfair and untrue? it is not true, that "in the present case the public
+has decided" in favour of the altered play: "Cordelia," says the critic,
+"from the time of Tate has always retired with victory and felicity:"
+but does he mean to assert, that the original drama, before Tate's
+corruption, was not well received by the public? he cannot assert this,
+because he could not make good such an assertion. The fact is, as stated
+by Steevens, that "the managers of the theatres-royal have decided, and
+the public has been obliged to acquiesce in their decision."
+
+Of the alterations introduced by this reformer of Shakspeare, the first
+and most obvious is the change of the catastrophe. King Lear and
+Cordelia, instead of dying as in the original, are finally triumphant,
+and _live very happy after_. Here is improvement, here is poetical
+justice, here is every thing that can be desired to the perfection of a
+drama. "Since all reasonable beings," says doctor Johnson, "naturally
+love justice, I cannot easily be persuaded, that the observation of
+justice makes a play worse; or that, if other excellencies are equal,
+the audience will not always rise better pleased from the final triumph
+of persecuted virtue." This reasoning is just; but the critic has
+unfortunately advanced a sentence, which must be a perpetual
+stumbling-block to every advocate of Tate, viz. "_if other excellencies
+are equal_," &c. Had Shakspeare chosen, according to the "faith of
+chronicles," to represent Cordelia triumphant; had he adorned the scenes
+of poetical justice with his peculiar spirit, and nature, and poetry;
+then indeed the excellencies of the drama, though different in kind,
+would probably have been equal in magnitude: though I think it very
+doubtful, whether even then the change of the catastrophe would not have
+been a deformity, rather than an improvement. Unquestionably our
+affection for persecuted virtue is strengthened by the very distresses
+in which it is involved. The triumph of Cordelia would certainly draw
+from us an instantaneous acknowledgment of satisfaction: but the
+impression could not be lasting; while her fall is fixed more deeply on
+the attention, and raises a more permanent feeling of pity for her
+sufferings, and indignation against her persecutors. Shakspeare must
+have thought so, when he chose, in violation of the truth of history, to
+deprive her of poetical justice. To conclude the question relative to
+the catastrophe, it is utterly impossible that the mind of Lear should
+be capable of surviving so violent a change of circumstances. In the
+original, he is very naturally represented by Shakspeare as bending
+under the weight of his calamities, and expiring of a broken heart.
+
+    "_Enter Lear, with Cordelia dead in his arms._
+
+    "_Lear._ Howl, howl, howl, howl!--O, you are men of stones;
+    Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so
+    That heaven's vault should crack:--O, she is gone forever!--
+    I know, when one is dead, and when one lives;
+    She's dead as earth.----
+
+    "Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha!
+    What is't thou says't?--Her voice was ever soft,
+    Gentle, and low; an excellent thing in woman:--
+    I kill'd the slave that was a hanging thee.
+    And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life:
+    Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,
+    And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no more,
+    Never, never, never, never, never!--
+
+    "Pray you, undo this button: Thank you sir.--
+    Do you see this?--Look on her,--look,--her lips,--
+    Look there,--look there!--        [_He dies._"
+
+What a "luxury of wo" does this exquisite scene afford? What can Tate
+produce to counterbalance its value?
+
+The next material alteration is the intrusion of love.[J] Cordelia is in
+love with Edgar. Why, of what an abominable taste must that man have
+been possessed, who in his sober senses could think of thus corrupting
+the noble simplicity of Cordelia's character. As for the language of
+love here introduced, it is about equal to what might be looked for from
+such a man. Take for a specimen an exquisitely pithy scene of about ten
+lines in the commencement of the play, in which Edgar follows Cordelia
+across the stage with the following pathetic stuff:
+
+    "Cordelia, royal fair, turn yet once more,
+    And ere successful Burgundy receive
+    The tribute of thy beauties from the king."--
+
+It is too sickening: I cannot go on. Cordelia the amiable and sensible
+Cordelia, in love with such a whining milk-and-water fool as this! It
+need not be mentioned, that of course they have several unaccountable
+interviews, and at the conclusion of the play, Cordelia, all overjoyed
+at the restoration of her father, marries Edgar!
+
+The last remarkable corruption is in the introduction of a curious piece
+of stage-machinery, ycleped a confidant, who, loving her mistress more
+than herself, like a good servant, accompanies her through wind and
+rain, and every other stage-horror, in a dark night, on a wild-goose
+chase, without any adequate or apparent object. This confidant is like
+every other stage-confidant.
+
+How such a wretched jumble of inconsistencies, absurdity, and
+insipidity, can have been suffered ever to be performed, is a subject at
+once of wonder and regret. It is surprising, that Garrick never remedied
+the evil; a man, who had an ardent veneration for Shakspeare, and by his
+acting and management went some way towards doing him justice. It is
+rather inconsistent, that he could suffer this play to be performed
+instead of Shakspeare's, and yet in one of his prologues make the
+following assertion:
+
+    "'Tis my chief wish, my joy, my only plan,
+    To lose no drop of that immortal man."
+
+    _Prologue to Catherine and Petruchio._
+
+These lines too are quoted by Mr. Kemble, and prefixed as a motto to his
+alteration of one of Shakspeare's plays. Is Mr. Kemble not aware, how
+many drops of Shakspeare are lost, and how much false wine obtruded in
+their place, in this metamorphosis? It would be an endless task to point
+out all the beautiful and sublime passages omitted by Tate: but to point
+out all the absurdities he has introduced, would be more endless. As Mr.
+Kemble professes, however, such a wish, I will just remind him, before I
+conclude, of what perhaps he has forgotten, that the present
+stage-representation of Shakspeare is a disgrace to his memory; that
+many of his best plays are never performed; that those which are
+performed are exhibited in so mangled a state, as to be totally unlike
+Shakspeare; and that not one of his dramas is now exhibited pure and
+unadulterated.
+
+    I am, Mr. Editor, your's, &c.
+
+        A SHAKSPEARIAN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_A week's journal of a strolling player._
+
+_Monday._ We opened the house with the tragedy of the _distressed
+mother_; I played _Orestes_. Our dresses and scenery rather out of
+repair, which gave some gentleman occasion to remark; that it would have
+been more _apropos_, had we advertised the play by the title of the
+_distressed family_.
+
+_Tuesday._ Played George Barnwell. Part of the audience wanted me
+hanged: Afterwards did the watchman, and the bailiff in the
+_Apprentice_.--Shared thirteen pence three farthings.
+
+_Wednesday._ Played _Jachimo_ in _Cymbeline_. My arms almost
+broken by being put into too small a chest. The farce the
+_Register-office_--played _Gulwell_.--Shared one shilling.
+
+_Thursday._ Doubled the _Ghost_ and _Rosencrantz_ in _Hamlet_, and
+afterwards played _Mogs_ in the _Devil of a Duke_. A gentleman affronted
+me by saying I was _the devil of a conjuror_. Shared one shilling and
+six pence, and for the first time took my two bits of candles.
+
+_Friday._ I played _Macduff_, and two or three other parts in _Macbeth_,
+one of the witches being drunk, we were obliged to make shift with two.
+The farce _Miss in her teens_: I was Fribble; and the house barber
+having gone off in a pet, because I could not pay him his week's bill, I
+was obliged to go on without my hair being dressed.--Shared ten pence
+and a candle.
+
+_Saturday. The Orphan._ The manager had taken _Castalio_ himself, and
+insisted on my playing _Acasto_. An ignorant country fellow introduced
+it only to support Acasto in the third act, stands on the stage, when I
+asked "where are all my friends?" answered, "sir, they are at the George
+over a mug of ale." We afterwards had the _Padlock_ without music. I
+played _Mungo_ and never felt any thing half so much as the favourite
+air, "I wish to my heart me was dead."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Macklin and Foote._
+
+Macklin once left the stage and set up a tavern and Coffee-house on a
+new plan in the piazza, Covent garden. At his dinners every thing was
+done by the waiters, on signs made to them by Macklin himself who acted
+as chief waiter. One night, being at supper with Foote and some others
+at the Bedford, one of the company praised Macklin for the great
+regularity of his ordinary, and in particular his manner of directing
+his waiters _by signals_. Ay, sir, says Macklin, I knew it would do, and
+where do you think I picked up this hint?--well sir, I'll tell you, I
+picked it up from no less a man than James Duke of York, who you know
+sir, first invented signals for the fleet. Very apropos indeed, said
+Foote, and good poetical justice, as _from the fleet_ they were taken,
+_so to the fleet_ both master and signals are likely to return.
+
+Macklin afterwards failed.
+
+Another time Macklin delivered public lectures. One night as he was
+preparing to begin, he heard a buz in the room, and spied Foote in a
+corner talking and laughing immoderately. This he thought a safe time to
+rebuke that wicked wit, as he had begun his lecture and consequently
+could not be subject to any criticism: he therefore cried out with some
+authority "well sir, you seem to be very merry there, but do you know
+what I am going to say now?" "No sir says Foote, pray _do_ you?" This
+ready reply and the laughter it occasioned silenced Macklin, and so
+embarrassed him that he could not get on, till called upon by the
+general voice of the company.
+
+Another time Macklin undertook to show the causes of duelling in
+Ireland, and why it was much more the practice of that nation than any
+other. In order to do this, he began with the earliest part of the Irish
+history, and, getting as far as queen Elizabeth, he was proceeding when
+Foote spoke to order. "Well sir, what have you to say on the subject?"
+said Macklin, "only to crave a little attention sir," said Foote, with
+much seeming modesty, "when I think I can settle this point in a few
+words."--"Well sir, go on."--"Why then, sir," says Foote, "to begin,
+what o'clock is it?"--"O'clock" said Macklin, "what has the clock to do
+with a dissertation on duelling?" "Pray sir," said Foote, "be pleased to
+answer my question." Macklin on this, pulled out his watch and reported
+the hour to be past ten.--"Very well," said Foote, "about this time of
+the night, every gentleman in Ireland that can afford it, is in his
+third bottle of claret, consequently is in a fair way of getting drunk;
+from drunkenness proceeds quarrelling, and from quarrelling, duelling,
+and so there's an end of the chapter." The company seemed perfectly
+satisfied with this abridgment, and Macklin shut up his lecture for that
+evening in great dudgeon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Countess of Carlisle's opinion of the Drama, taken from her maxims to
+young ladies._
+
+When you fix your mind on the scenes before you, when the eye shall not
+wander to, nor the heart flutter at the surrounding objects of the
+spectacle, you will return home instructed and improved.
+
+The great utilities you may reap from well acted tragedy are the
+exciting your compassion to real sufferings, the suppressing of your
+vanity in prosperity, and the inspiring you with heroic patience in
+adversity.
+
+In comedy you will receive continual correction, delicately applied to
+your errors and foibles; be impartial in the application, divide it
+humbly with your acquaintance and friends, and even with your enemies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_The general lover--An Ovidian rhapsody._
+
+    JAQUES. The worst fault you have is to be in love.
+
+    ORLANDO. It is a fault I would not change for your best virtue.
+
+Though I may be inconstant to _Elizabeth, Betty, and Bess_, I am never
+inconstant to love. But I will not defend myself. No, if it would do any
+good to confess, I own my fault, and will say that I hate myself for it;
+but I must add, that though I wish it, I cannot be otherwise than what I
+hate. I am borne along like a vessel in a rapid current, impelled by
+wind and tide--I know not what form delights me most, therefore the
+causes are endless, why I can never cease to love.
+
+    If modest the nymph, with her eyes in her lap,
+    Her blushing's enough, I am caught in the trap.
+
+If she is high spirited I am won, because she is not rustic.--Is she
+austere,--I think her willing, but an admirable dissembler.
+
+    If learned, than riches I prize it above,
+    If not, sweet simplicity, O, how I love!
+
+Is there one who prefers my writings to those of the salacious warbler,
+the wanton lacivious little Moore? She to whom I am pleasing is ever
+pleasing to me. If she hates both me and my works, I long to give her
+reason to think differently of both. This fair one walks with grace, her
+graces captivate me; that sings, and her voice flows like honey from her
+lips; I pant to kiss the hive from which such honey flows. Her brilliant
+fingers sweep the chords: Who can but love such well-instructed
+fingers?--To love in every shape I bend my knees.
+
+    Though her figure heroic would fill the whole bed,
+    For me there'd be room where I'd lay my fond head.
+
+If she is little and short I am equally glad, for then I can never have
+_too much_ of her. Light hair how lovely!--Brown, I think it
+auburn--Black, how beautiful when hanging in ringlets on her snowy neck!
+Is it red--what so red as gold?--Youth warms my heart and later age I
+love; this pleases by its form, that by its conduct.--Is she a slut--how
+saving!--Is she delicate--how delightful!--Is she my wife--I _must_ love
+her--Is she my friend's--how can I help it!--The fatter, the warmer; the
+thinner, she is less subject, _perhaps_, to the frailty of the
+_flesh_.--Is she lame--how domestic!--Is she deaf--'tis well.--Is she
+blind--'tis better.--Is she dumb--O, 'tis too much!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Humorous Epilogues after Tragedies._
+
+The custom of introducing humorous epilogue, farce, and buffoonery,
+after the mind has been agitated, softened, or sublimed by tragic
+scenes, has been often objected to.
+
+It hath been said in its favour, that five long acts is a portion of
+time sufficiently long to keep the attention fixed on melancholy
+objects; that human life has enough of real, without calling in the aid
+of artificial distress; that it is cruel to send home an audience with
+all the affecting impressions of a deep tragedy in their minds.
+
+In reply, it has been observed, that it is degrading and untrue to
+describe the human species as incapable of receiving gratification only
+from comic scenes; that "_there is a luxury in wo_," independent of its
+purifying the bosom and suppressing the more ignoble passions.
+
+The supporters of this opinion have also added, that there is a species
+of depravity in endeavouring by ludicrous mummery to efface the salutary
+effects of pathetic, virtuous, and vigorous sentiments; that it is
+sporting with the sympathies of our nature, repugnant to correct taste,
+and counteracting moral utility.
+
+This violation of the law of gentle and gradual contrasts, has been felt
+and complained of by most frequenters of a modern theatre, and
+well-authenticated instances have been produced of guilty men retiring
+from a well-written and well-acted play to repentance and melioration.
+
+An epilogue has been composed by Mr. Sheridan in support of these
+opinions, superior in pathos, poetry and practical deduction, to any I
+ever read. It was originally spoken by Mrs. Yates, after the performance
+of Semiramis, a tragedy translated from the French.
+
+    Dishevell'd still, like Asia's bleeding queen,
+    Shall I, with jests deride the tragic scene?
+    No, beauteous mourners! from whose downcast eyes
+    The Muse has drawn her noblest sacrifice;
+    Whose gentle bosoms, Pity's altars, bear
+    The chrystal incense of each falling tear!
+    There lives the poet's praise; no critic art
+    Can match the comment of a feeling heart!
+
+    When general plaudits speak the fable o'er,
+    Which mute attention had approv'd before;
+    Though under spirits love th' accustomed jest,
+    Which chases sorrow from the vulgar breast;
+    Still hearts refin'd their sadden'd tints retain--
+    The sigh gives pleasure and the jest is pain:
+    Scarce have they smiles to honour grace or wit,
+    Though Roscius spoke the verse himself had writ.
+
+    Thus, through the time when vernal fruits receive
+    The grateful showers that hang on April's eve;
+    Though every coarser stem of forest birth
+    Throws with the morning beam its dews to earth,
+    Ne'er does the gentle rose revive so soon,
+    But, bath'd in nature's tears, it drops till noon.
+
+    O could the Muse one simple moral teach,
+    From scenes like these, which all who hear might reach;
+    Thou child of sympathy, whoe'er thou art,
+    Who with Assyria's queen hast wept thy part;
+    Go search where keener woes demand relief,
+    Go, while thy heart yet beats with fancied grief.
+    Thy breast, still conscious of the recent sigh,
+    The graceful tear still ling'ring on the eye;
+    Go, and on real misery bestow
+    The blest effusions of fictitious wo,
+    So shall our muse, supreme of all the nine;
+    Deserve indeed the title of divine,
+    Virtue shall own her favoured from above,
+    And Pity greet her with a sister's love.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_A few words of advice, extracted from a London magazine._
+
+TO THE CONDUCTOR.
+
+    Mr. CONDUCTOR,
+
+I am a sort of literary _Lounger_, though no _Connoisseur_, yet an
+_Idler_, like myself, will always assume a right to turn _Observer_ upon
+every _Adventurer_; and, whether you may subscribe to my opinions or
+not, yet, as I mean to subscribe to your work, I shall offer them very
+freely.
+
+Too many publications promise much at their outset, and perform little
+in the sequel; great expectations will be formed of what may be produced
+by the members of a British _Cabinet_; and in case of failure every
+_Guardian_ of his own rights will become a _Tatler_; you will be accused
+as a _Rambler_ from your engagements, and, at your downfal, the _World_
+will be an unconcerned _Spectator_; while, on the contrary, by proper
+polish and reflection, you may be styled the _Mirror_ of all _Monthly
+Magazines_ in the metropolis. So much for your title, I shall next make
+some remarks as to the general conduct of the work itself.
+
+With regard to the engraved heads prefixed to each number, and called
+portraits, I would certainly advise that they should bear _some_
+resemblance to the originals; this, notwithstanding it may be but a
+trifling recommendation to some readers, will often prove an advantage;
+for, however singular it may appear, I have frequently purchased a
+picture myself, for no reason than that it put me in mind of the person
+it professed to represent.
+
+I am conscious, however, that there may be exceptions to this general
+rule; indeed I know a very worthy vender of prints, who keeps in his
+cellar some hundreds of admirals and generals, ready engraved, and by
+cutting off the arm of one, or clapping a convenient patch on the eye of
+another, he is always ready before any of his competitors to present the
+town with striking likenesses of any or all of those persons who so
+frequently claim our attention and gratitude. However, as there is no
+subject on which people are apt to disagree so pointedly as on the
+precision or dissimilarity of a copy from nature, you may safely steer
+clear of all criticism, and perhaps please all parties by embellishing
+your incipient number with a face combining Cooke's nose, Kemble's chin,
+and Munden's mouth, with the arched eye of Lewis, and writing under it
+
+    _The head of an eminent actor._
+
+Thus every one will recognise the feature of a favourite, and one
+feature in a whole face is as much as they ought to expect.
+
+Admit no _puns_ into your miscellany. Dennis, the critic, has said, and
+I know not how many others after him, that a punster is no better than a
+pickpocket, and with truth, for how dare any quibbling varlet attempt to
+rob his neighbour of any portion of that delightful inflexibility, the
+very taciturnity of which bespeaks what _wisdom_ may lie _buried_ in a
+_grave_ demeanour?
+
+Be not too _sentimental_ neither; nor copy the infantine simplicity of
+those dear little children of the _Della Cruscan_ school, who, "_lisp in
+numbers_." Do not let them lisp in any number of your publication. No
+sir, like sir Peter Teazle, I say, "curse your sentiments;" for the man
+whose effeminate ideas, expressed in effeminate accents, would
+contribute to lessen the manly character of the English nation, deserves
+to be lost in a labyrinth, as I am now, and left in the lurch for a
+finish to each sentence he commences.
+
+On the other hand, you must carefully shun the affectation of _bombastic
+diction_--it is lamentable to see a preelucidated theme rendered
+semidiaphonous, by the elimination of simple expression, to make room
+for the conglomeration of pondrous periods, and to exhibit the
+phonocamptic coxcombry of some pedant, who mistakes sentences for
+wagons, and words for the wheels of them.
+
+Avoid _alliteration_, allowed by all to be the very vehicle of vitious
+verbosity, particularly in a periodical publication; therefore, the
+thought that dully depends, during lengthened lines of lumbering
+lucubration, on innumerable initials introduced instead of rhyme or
+reason, is really reprehensible. Shakspeare, scorning the sufferance of
+such a sneaking style, said "Wit whither wilt?"
+
+Lest you should put the same question to me, I will give you my
+concluding piece of advice, which is, that you should beware of
+introducing second hand _Rural Tales_ and essays, from the successful
+labours of your predecessors. Such things _have_ happened more than
+once, and I remember reading a letter to the editor, in the first number
+of a new magazine, which was unfortunately signed by, _An Old
+Subscriber_.
+
+P. S. I meant to have called myself a _Constant Reader_, but, if you
+follow my advice, you will have so many of those, you will not know how
+to distinguish me from others. I shall, therefore, address my future
+correspondence, under the signature of my proper initials,
+
+    S. L. U. M.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A CHAPTER ON LOGIC;
+
+_Or, the Horse Chesnut, and the Chesnut Horse._
+
+Occasioned by an observation of Mr. Montague Mathew, in the house of
+commons, during the last session of parliament, that Mr. Mathew Montague
+was no more like him, than a horse chesnut was like a chesnut horse.
+
+    An Eton stripling, training for the law,
+    A dunce at syntax, but a dab at law,
+    One happy christmas laid upon the shelf
+    His cap and gown, and stores of learned pelf.
+    With all the deathless bards of Greece and Rome,
+    To spend a fortnight at his uncle's home.
+    Arriv'd, and pass'd the usual how d'ye do's,
+    Inquiries of old friends and college news;
+    "Well Tom--the road--what saw you worth discerning?
+    Or how goes study:--what is it you're learning?"
+    "Oh! logic, sir; but not the shallow rules
+    Of Locke and Bacon--antiquated fools!
+    'Tis wits' and wranglers' logic: thus, d'ye see,
+    I'll prove at once as plain as A B C,
+    That an eel-pie's a pigeon--to deny it,
+    Would be to swear black's not black--come let's try it.
+    An eel-pie is a pie of fish--agreed,
+    Fish-pie may be a jack-pie.--Well proceed.
+    A jack-pie is a john-pie; and 'tis done,
+    For every john-pie must be a pie-john,--" (pigeon.)
+    "Bravo!" sir Peter cries, "logic for ever!
+    That beats my grandmother's, and she was clever.
+    But hold, my boy, since 'twould be very hard,
+    That wit and learning should have no reward,
+    Tomorrow, for a stroll, the Park we'll cross;
+    And there I'll give thee,"--"What?" "My chesnut horse,"
+    "A horse!" quoth Tom, "blood, pedigree, and paces,
+    Heav'ns what a dash I'll cut at Epsom races!"
+    To bed he went, and slept for downright sorrow,
+    That night must go before he'd see the morrow;
+    Dreamt of his boots and spurs, and leather breeches,
+    Of hunting-caps, and leaping rails and ditches;
+    Left his warm nest an hour before the lark!
+    Dragg'd his old uncle, posting, to the Park.
+    Halter in hand, each vale he scour'd at loss,
+    To spy out something like a chesnut horse;
+    But no such animal the meadows cropt--
+    At length beneath a tree sir Peter stopt;
+    A branch he caught, then shook it, and down fell
+    A fine horse chesnut in its prickly shell.
+    There Tom, take that--Well, sir, and what beside?
+    Why since you're booted, saddle it and ride;
+    Ride what? a chesnut!--Ay, come, get across;
+    I tell you, Tom, that chesnut is a horse,
+    And all the horse you'll get--for I can show,
+    As clear as shunshine, that 'tis really so;
+    Not by the musty, fusty, worn out rules
+    Of Locke and Bacon--addle headed fools!
+    Or old Mallebranche--blind pilot into knowledge;
+    But by the laws of wit, and Eton college.
+    All axioms but the wranglers I'll disown,
+    And stick to one sound argument--your own.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What is the literary world?
+
+It is a kind of fair, full of stalls, wares, and shopkeepers: in which
+the theologist sells his stuff, which at the same time supplies food and
+warmth. The critic disposes of his cobweb linen and transparent lawn, of
+no shelter from the cold. The philologist, his embroidered vests,
+Corinthian vases, and Phrygian marble. The physician letters and
+syllables. The lawyer, men. The antiquary, old shoes. The alchymist,
+himself. The poet, smoke. The orator, paint. The historian, fame--and
+the philosopher, heaven and earth.
+
+What are the most rare animals in the world?
+
+A rich man contented with his fortune. A man distinguished by genius and
+not by defects. A courtier grown old. A learned man who knows himself. A
+virgin who is beautiful to every body but herself. A prime minister who
+possesses honesty; who has the interest of his country, not that of
+himself or his associates, at heart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Addison's pedigree of Wit._
+
+Good Sense is his father, Truth his grandfather, and Mirth and Good
+Humour are his chosen companions.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An impertinent petit-maitre told a country gentleman in a coffeehouse at
+the west end of the town that he looked like a groom. "I am one,"
+replied he, "and am ready to rub down _an ass_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Curious slip-slop!_--The three wives of a knight, a physician, and a
+justice, were one evening engaged in a social game of questions and
+commands; and, according to the custom of the game, the first began, "I
+love my love with an N because he is a k-night!" The second in the same
+terms confessed her partiality for an F, because he was a physician! and
+the third avowed a similar regard for a G, because he was a justice!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Specific for blindness._--A quack doctor in the neighbourhood of York,
+who advertises a universal specific for the ills of mankind, adds, that
+he attends to communications by letter, "but it is necessary that
+persons afflicted with the loss of sight should _see_ the doctor."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A stage-struck youth lately called upon Mr. K, at his residence not far
+from Bloomsbury-square, and applied for an engagement. The manager,
+after scrutinizing the various qualifications of the youthful candidate,
+inquired, "and pray sir, to what particular parts have your studies been
+directed? What is your forte?" "Why, sir, (replied the youth in a modest
+tone) I rather think that I excel in your line." "My line! (exclaimed
+the manager with peculiar complacency) what is that? What do you mean?"
+"To confess the truth, (rejoined the tyro) I flatter myself that I am
+most at home in _playing the tyrant_!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The theatre at Sydney appears to be in a very flourishing state," said
+a gentleman to John Kemble, speaking of the Botany Bay theatricals, an
+account of which appeared in the papers a few months since. "Yes,"
+replied the tragedian, "the performers ought to be all good, for they
+have been selected and sent to that situation by very excellent
+_judges_!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_An Irish forgery._--At a provincial assize not long since, in Ireland,
+an attorney was tried upon a capital charge of forgery. The trial was
+extremely long, when after much sophistry from the counsel, and the most
+minute investigation of the judge, it appeared to the complete
+satisfaction of a crowded court, that the culprit had forged the
+_signature of a man who could neither read nor write_!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A woman lately brought before a country magistrate, behaving with much
+confidence, was told by his worship that she had brass enough in her
+face to make a five gallon kettle. "Yes," answered she, "and there is
+sap enough in your head to _fill it_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Anecdotes of Macklin._
+
+Macklin was very intimate with Frank Hayman (at that time one of our
+first historical painters) and happening to call upon him one morning,
+soon after the death of the painter's wife with whom he lived but on
+indifferent terms, he found him wrangling with the undertaker about the
+extravagance of the funeral expenses. Macklin listened to the
+altercation for some time: at last, going up to Hayman, with great
+gravity he observed, Come, come, Frank, though the bill is a little
+extravagant, pay it in respect to the memory of your wife: for by G-- I
+am sure she would do twice as much for you had she the same opportunity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A notorious egotist one day in a large company indirectly praising
+himself for a number of good qualities which it was well known he had
+not, asked Macklin the reason why he should have this propensity of
+interfering in the good of others when he frequently met with unsuitable
+returns? "I could tell you, sir," says Macklin. "Well do sir; you are a
+man of sense and observation, and I should be glad of your definition."
+"Why then sir, the cause is impudence--nothing but stark-staring
+impudence."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A gentleman at a public dinner asking him inconsiderately Whether he
+remembered Mrs. Barry, the celebrated actress who died about the latter
+end of queen Ann's reign, he planted his countenance directly against
+him with great severity, and bawled out, "No, sir, nor Harry the eighth
+neither. They were both dead before my time."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An Irish dignitary of the church, not remarkably for veracity,
+complaining that a tradesman of his parish had called him a liar,
+Macklin asked him what reply he made him. "I told him," said he, "that a
+lie was among the things I _dared_ not commit." "And why, doctor,"
+replied Macklin, "did you give the rascal _so mean an opinion of your
+courage_?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ANECDOTE OF QUIN.
+
+    Quin's servant, at the accustomed hour,
+      Once came to call his master,
+    With visage long and aspect sour,
+      Expressive of disaster.
+
+    Quin soon began his usual story,
+      Well, John, what news of fish?
+    Have you of turbot or John Dory
+      Seen e'er a handsome dish?
+
+    Says John I've been the market round,
+      And searched from stall to stall,
+    But only some few Mackerel found,
+      And those not fresh at all.
+
+    Well! how's the day? says Quin again,
+      Will it be wet or dry?
+    There seems a drizzling kind of rain
+      Was honest John's reply.
+
+    Quin turns in bed with piteous moan,
+      And, not to brood o'er sorrow.
+    Says shut the door, and call me, John,
+      About this time tomorrow.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[I] Mossop, when he was manager of the Dublin theatre, always played
+Lear as it was written by Shakspeare.
+
+[J] A hint to managers.--As the tragedy of Macbeth is the great rival of
+king Lear, I cannot but think, that it ought to be represented with all
+the advantages which its rival possesses; as, particularly, with the
+additional beauty of love. Nor would the change be difficult. Young
+Malcolm might very conveniently and very naturally fall in love with a
+daughter of Macbeth (to be sure it is most probable Macbeth had no
+daughter; but what of that? It is not too late to make him one); then
+the lovers might have many an affecting interview under the walls of
+Dunsinane Castle; and finally, Malcolm instead of Macduff, might cut off
+Macbeth's head, and immediately lead his daughter to the altar. How
+successfully would this conclude in the style of Barbarossa, Gustavus
+Vasa, &c. which are evidently the true models of tragedy.
+
+
+
+
+SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.
+
+
+BLODWELL ROCK.
+
+A fox-chace rather remarkable in its nature, lately took place. As a
+gentleman was coursing under Blodwell Rock, near Porthywaen lime works,
+he unkennelled a very large dog fox; and having two couple of beagles,
+they pursued him through the extensive covers near that rock to the
+summit of Llanymynech hill; but being very hard run, he made a short
+turn passing through the Gorwell covers, and along the banks of the
+river Turnet, near to the village of Llanyblodwell. The beagles then
+approached him so near, that he was under the necessity of taking the
+road for Llandu; and leaving those covers on the left, he returned much
+fatigued, near to the place where he was first started. He then went
+through a large cover called Cowman's Ruff, and back to Llanymynech
+hill; and in a lime quarry there, he stopped for his little pursuers,
+who, having run him in view under that hill, opposite the village of
+Llanymynech, he ascended a craggy rock, and got into a subterraneous
+passage of great length formerly worked, it is supposed, by the Roman
+miners. Bold Reynard being somewhat warm could not long remain in so
+close a confinement, but had the audacity to make his appearance at the
+mouth of the passage, and fought his way out, in defiance of the beagles
+and a brace of greyhounds, which he had beaten before; and taking a
+direction the same way back, for a considerable distance up a narrow
+precipice in another part of the rock, he had no alternative of escaping
+but by throwing himself down a declivity a little further on, at least
+forty feet high, without any apparent injury. He then ran near to the
+turnpike gate at Llanymynech, but being met by a canal boat, he altered
+his course, and ran over the Stair Corrig Held, where he took another
+prodigious leap and then ran along the turn pike road to Oswestry,
+having stopped a few minutes in a small close near Llynckly, and the
+beagles ran him in view for a considerable way, and he was taken alive
+after a hard chace of more than four hours, with little or no
+intermission.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WILTSHIRE PASTIME.
+
+The play at singlestick at Salisbury races on Wednesday was very dull,
+there being no players of note to meet the Somersetshire men, who
+carried off the prize easily. On Thursday, however, James Lyne arrived,
+on his return from Magdaline bull fair, and Maslen came in from Devizes.
+Some fine play was now displayed--Maslin and John Wall had no less than
+thirty-five bouts, and at length Wall gave in, not being able longer to
+keep his guard.
+
+But the crack play was between James Lyne (of Wilts.) and Wm. Wall
+(Somerset) and it afforded a high treat to the amateurs of the art. At
+length Lyne won Wall's head, and the play concluded for the morning. In
+the afternoon when the tyes were called on, the Wiltshire men had four
+heads, and only one Somerset man (Bunn) had gained a head. The odds were
+too great for Bunn to have any hope of success, he therefore gave in,
+and the Wiltshire men divided the prize.
+
+Two master gamesters, a Berkshire and a Hampshire man then entered the
+ring on a particular challenge, and showed much skill, intrepidity and
+good bottom. Berkshire triumphed. The sport lasted five hours. The bouts
+played were one hundred and sixty-one. The heads broken seventeen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ST. GILES'S PASTIME
+
+A duel was fought in a field, near Chalkfarm, between two Hibernian
+heroes, named FELIX O'FLANNAGAN and DENNIS O'SHAUGNESSY, in consequence
+of a dispute which occurred the preceding evening, at a meeting of
+_connoisseurs_, in Russel-square, to view the newly erected statue of
+the late duke of Bedford; when Mr. O'Flannagan and Mr. O'Shaugnessy
+differed in opinion, not only in respect to the materials of which the
+statue was composed, but the identity of the person it was said to
+represent.
+
+Mr. O'Flannagan, who is a _composer of mortar_, insisted it was made of
+_cast stone_, and represented the duke of Bedford; and Mr. O'Shaugnessy,
+who is a _rough lapidary_, vulgarly called a _pavior_, contended it was
+made of _cast iron_, and intended to "_raprisint Charley Whox_." The
+dispute ran high, and, as it advanced, became mixed with party and
+provincial feelings. Mr. O'Flannagan was a Connaught man, and a
+_Cannavat_; Mr. O'Shaugnessy a Munster man, and a _Shannavat_.
+
+With such provocations of mutual irritation, they quickly appealed to
+the law of arms; and after putting the eyes of each other into _half
+mourning_, they agreed to adjourn the battle till Sunday morning, and to
+decide it like _jontlemen_--by the _cudgel_. The meeting took place
+accordingly, and each was attended to the field by a numerous train of
+partizans, male and female, from the warlike purlieus of Dyott-street
+and Saffron-hill. They were armed with blackthorn cudgels of no ordinary
+dimensions; and having _set to_, without ceremony or parade, each
+belaboured his antagonist for above an hour, in a style that would have
+struck terror into the stoutest of the Burkes and Belchers, and
+_enameled_ each other from head to foot, with lasting testimonies of
+vigour and dexterity. The air was rent by the triumphant shouts of their
+respective partizans, as either alternately bit the ground. At length,
+Mr. O'Shaugnessy yielded the victory; and Mr. O'Flannagan was borne off
+the field, with his brows enwreathed by the Sunday _shawl_ of a
+milkwoman, his sweetheart, who witnessed the combat, and crowned the
+conqueror with her own _fair_ hands.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_A singular circumstance._
+
+Mr. Jones a veterinary surgeon of the Curtain road, near London, was
+called upon lately to attend a horse that was unwell; having some very
+untoward symptoms about him, the horse was conceived to be in danger:
+every means was made use of that seemed calculated to be of service, but
+without effect, as he died the same evening. On opening the body, in the
+presence of several spectators the rectum was found to be ruptured by
+the pressure of a large calculus, or stone which weighs five pounds
+seven ounces, and in one of the intestines (_the colon_) were found
+three others that weigh sixteen pounds seven ounces. Altogether twenty
+one pounds fourteen ounces. They are kept in Mr. Jones' museum and
+submitted to the inspection of those who desire to view such a
+phenomenon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A partridge's nest was last August discovered in a plot of grass, in the
+garden of the Reverend Mr. M'Kenzie of Knockbourn, Shropshire. It
+contained sixteen eggs which had been deserted by the mother. They were
+immediately laid under a turkey hen that was sitting, and from them were
+brought forth sixteen fine birds, which were in a thriving state, and
+were following the turkey as their mother when the account here given
+was written.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Pedestrianism._
+
+In these days of walking wonders, the following is worthy of notice.
+
+A lieutenant of the navy stationed with the sea fensibles at Kingston;
+between five and six miles from Swanage, performed that distance on foot
+in the short space of twenty minutes.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIC CENSOR.
+
+     I have always considered those combinations which are formed
+     in the playhouse as acts of fraud or cruelty. He that
+     applauds him who does not deserve praise, is endeavouring to
+     deceive the public. He that hisses in malice or in sport is
+     an oppressor and a robber.
+
+     _Dr. Johnson's Idler, No. 25._
+
+
+_From a Correspondent at New-York._
+
+NEW-YORK THEATRICALS.
+
+We have for several weeks been gratified by the performance of Mr.
+Dwyer, lately arrived from England, an actor certainly superior to any
+on the London boards in genteel comedy, and highly respectable as a
+tragedian. He possesses every requisite for the stage: a fine person, a
+good voice, a manly expression of countenance and the most polished
+address. His orthoepy seems to have been acquired by the means which
+alone can give it perfection: an intimate acquaintance and a constant
+interview with the best speakers of the senate, the bar, the pulpit, and
+the stage in the metropolis of the British empire.
+
+It is a difficult task for an actor or actress newly arrived amongst us
+(even were that actor a Garrick and the actress a Siddons) to overcome,
+at the first onset, certain prejudices, which, in spite of a good
+understanding, will oftentimes take possession of the human mind; and a
+New-York audience seem particularly to require time for a complete
+manifestation of their acknowledgment of superior talents, lest they
+stand accused of an unjust partiality to a former favourite, or perhaps
+thinking with Theseus, "that should the favourite be in the wane, yet,
+in courtesy, in all reason, they must stay the time."[K] However this
+may be, and strongly as the illiberal mode of proceeding may have
+operated against respectable actors at various times, Mr. Dwyer has
+carried every thing before him. Those who were desirous of diminishing
+his fame, have sneaked from the field.
+
+            The fiends look'd up, and knew
+    Their mounted scale aloft: nor more----[L]
+
+Mr. Dwyer has entirely justified amongst us the flattering reports we
+had received of him in the European prints; and our theatrical amateurs
+will feel a disagreeable void in their pleasures when he leaves us. He
+is engaged on very liberal terms for a few nights in Philadelphia, by
+Mr. Warren, who lately made a journey to New-York for the express
+purpose of witnessing his extraordinary powers. Thence it is said, he
+will proceed to Boston and the other principal cities of the United
+States.
+
+It would be needless to point out Mr. Dwyer's particular excellencies:
+but we most esteem him for his _originality_. Scorning the degrading
+acts of imitation, he has formed himself upon the unerring principles of
+nature. In his performance we find that agreement, which, like the soul,
+adds life and action to the figure, and is the all in all.
+
+The little judgment used in the casts of the plays in which Mr. Dwyer
+has appeared, must have, however, greatly diminished the effect his
+talents would produce upon us, were he respectably supported. Our
+company, weak and bad in the extreme, is by bad management rendered much
+worse. To the annoyance of the public, when one actor, as a _star_, is
+thought to have sufficient attraction to make a good house of himself,
+the best performers of the company (and heaven knows bad enough is the
+best) are left out; prompter, scene-shifters, supernumeraries, and
+candle-snuffers being tugged in by the ears, as occasion may require, to
+_complete_ the _Dramatis Personae_. The place of Mrs. Oldmixon, whom we
+always see with pleasure, and who is never willingly absent when she can
+contribute to the gratification of the audience, is frequently occupied
+by Mrs. Hogg, whose infirmities impede those exertions which we are
+inclined to believe she is willing to make: and Mr. Simpson, who, in
+some characters, is not a bad performer, is often supplanted by the very
+sweepings of the green-room. How often do we see that second Proteus,
+the little prompter with his _parenthetical_ legs, rolled on in five or
+six different parts on the same evening. Gentleman, jailor, footman,
+king, and beggar are to him equally indifferent; and next to Mr. Hallam
+we conceive him to be the very best murderer on the boards.
+
+As we have gone so far in our observations on the state of the company,
+it may be as well to take a glance at the whole corps.
+
+First on the scroll stands the respectable Tyler, who, with some natural
+qualifications and much industry, has for many years been the most
+useful actor on our boards. His grave old gentlemen are far above
+mediocrity, and although nearly sixty years of age, he appears to much
+advantage occasionally in comic opera; being the only man in the
+company, with the exception of Mr. Twaits, capable of singing.
+
+Mr. Twaits as a low comedian is inferior to none in the United States.
+
+Mr. Simpson, denied by nature the possibility of being graceful,
+endeavours to make up for his defects by close attention to his
+business. He is generally perfect, and may, by reading and much study,
+become tolerable in the walk he aims at; which is genteel comedy. His
+chief defects are a whining sing-song management of his voice, that
+savors more of the rant of a methodist preacher than the genuine
+expression of natural feeling. Mr. Simpson however, does not want fire;
+a few years observation of good models may entitle him to a respectable
+standing on this side the Atlantic.
+
+Mr. Robinson's country boys and old men are excellent. His attempts at
+tragedy and genteel comedy, will we fear, never be successful.
+
+Mr. Young pleases us in all he undertakes. His conception is just, and
+his gesticulation worthy of example.
+
+In Mr. Collins we see much of the _naivete_ of Suett and Blisset. He
+bids fair to be an excellent low comedian of a certain cast.
+
+Mrs. Twaits approaches very near excellency in several walks of the
+drama. Her figure is too _petite_ to give effect to heroic characters;
+but her voice is good, and her stage business _soigne_.
+
+Mrs. Oldmixon, the only female singer among us! has lost none of her
+powers.
+
+Of Mrs. Mason we shall speak more fully hereafter. In gay, and
+sprightly, and laughing comedy she is most at home. Her tragedy is too
+whining.
+
+Mrs. Young is the most attractive actress I have seen for many years.
+There is something in her manner which charms the eye, whilst the ear is
+at times offended. This is easily accounted for--she is very
+handsome--her countenance is the picture of innocence; her deportment
+modest and unaffected; but she wants study; and there is some little
+defects in her speech, which, we fear it will be difficult to remove.
+
+Mrs. Poe is a pleasing actress, with many striking defects. She should
+never attempt to sing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Tyler, Mr. and Mrs. Young, and Mr. Twaits leave us in July. We trust
+the manager will take a little more pains to procure a good company. The
+public are liberal; and his purse-strings should be open to pay as well
+as to receive. If we had Mr. Warren here, or some one capable of
+discerning merit and willing to reward it, the town would never fail to
+support him. But, as it is, the only hope we have is a _new theatre_, a
+subscription for which, it is reported, is now on foot. John Hogg, a
+very good actor has been for twelve months unemployed here, whilst
+ten-dollars-per-week men are engaged to stutter and stammer in parts as
+far above their conception as their talents.
+
+    GLUM.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE AFRICANS.
+
+In that laudable zeal for the gratification of the public which has
+uniformly distinguished the management of Mr. Warren, he resolved to get
+up _The Africans_, and produced it at his own benefit on Wednesday the
+18th of April. The scenery, dresses, and preparations being very
+expensive, he could not demonstrate his respect for the city, and his
+anxiety to provide for their amusement more unequivocally, than by
+hazarding an immense expenditure of money, upon the issue of a solitary
+benefit, when there were plays already in stock (the Foundling of the
+Forest, for instance) that without a cent of additional expense would
+have been sufficiently productive. Much is owing, therefore, to the
+manager for presenting us with the Africans.
+
+Among the dramatists of the day Mr. Colman stands in our opinion, very
+high--if not highest. Some of his plays are noble productions, but by
+that of which we are now speaking, his fame will not be greatly
+augmented. Of the fable it is sufficient to say, that it is taken from
+FLORIAN, who, as a pastoral writer, equals Cervantes himself. Like every
+thing of Florian's the tale is divinely beautiful; but the selection of
+it for the stage evinces a want of judgment, of which Mr. Colman is
+rarely liable to be accused. The main ground work is the distress, or
+rather the agonies of an African family, by which the warmest sympathy
+is awakened in the bosom: too simple, however, in itself for a
+stage-plot, though impressive and interesting as a narrative, Mr. Colman
+has jumbled up with it metal of a lower kind, and so rudely alloyed the
+gold of Florian, that the value of it is rather injured. Such a mass of
+incongruous beauties we do not recollect to have seen. A tale of the
+most pathetic kind is interwoven with low comedy--the most lofty
+sentiments, the most exalted virtues, and heroism and magnanimity
+strained almost beyond the limits of probability, are checkered by
+uncouth pleasantries, and the most pathetic incidents intruded upon and
+interrupted by the farcical conundrums of MUG, a low cockney, who has
+become secretary of state to the king of the Mandingoes. Thus,
+oscillating between Kotesbue and O'Keefe, giving now a layer of exalted
+sentiment, and then a layer of mere farce, has Mr. C. raised a long
+three act piece.
+
+Nor are these the only imperfections of the piece. The language and
+sentiments of the serious parts are at such variance with the personages
+to whom they are assigned, not only according to received opinions, but
+to obvious matter of fact, that no stretch of the imagination can
+reconcile them. When we witness actions in which the tenderest charities
+inculcated by the Christian dispensation are combined with the
+inflexible magnanimity of the stoic's creed--when we hear virtues
+
+              ----Such a Roman breast
+    In Rome's corruptless times might have confest.
+
+dressed up in a vigorous highly ornamented style, and the crime of
+suicide depicted in the most glowing language of poetry, and deplored
+and deprecated in terms of dissuasion, forcible as those of Bourdaloue,
+and eloquent as those of Massillon, delivered from the mouth of a sooty
+African, as the spontaneous issues of his native moral philosophy and
+religion, we feel the incongruity too much for our nerves, and reject it
+in action. It may be asked, "why may not a negro on the coast of Africa
+enjoy such feelings, possess such virtues and speak them in such terms?"
+From what we have heard and seen, we entertain little doubt that there
+are men capable of asking such a question; but we know no way of
+answering it but by asking in return why an Esquimaux Indian should not
+compose an overture equal to any of Handel's, or a Dutch boor dance a
+_pas seul_ as well as _Vestris_, or a minuet as well as the prince of
+Wales.
+
+Again it may be asked how it came to pass that this play, if so
+exceptionable, was well received in England; to this we answer, that an
+abhorrence of the slave trade, just indignation at the wrongs done the
+unhappy Africans, and pity for their sufferings, together with
+exultation at the triumph which the generous band who procured the
+abolition of that execrable trade obtained over its cruel sordid
+advocates, had filled the people of Great Britain with an enthusiasm
+calculated to ensure their favourable reception of any thing creditable
+to the Africans. And it is highly probable that Mr. Colman purposely
+took that tide in public opinion at the flood.
+
+The play, however, must be delightful in the closet, and was cast so as
+to comprehend the whole strength of the company. Every part was decently
+sustained, others respectably, two excellently. For a proof of which we
+need offer nothing more than the single circumstance that none of the
+serious parts produced laughter as unexpected incongruities generally
+do. Had _black_ SELICO been in the hands of some performers we have
+seen, instead of Mr. Wood's, two or three of his speeches must have
+produced merriment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Mr. Cooper's second visit this season._
+
+Mr. Cooper's performances during this visit received less reward and yet
+deserved more than those on his former. Of five characters there were
+four on which criticism can dwell with pleasure.
+
+    Marc Antony in Julius Caesar,
+    Alexander in the Rival Queens,
+    Orsino in Alfonso,
+    Pierre in Venice Preserved.
+
+Mr. Cooper's Antony was, as usual, a chequer work of good and bad: one
+beauty there was, however, which would atone for a thousand faults. We
+have never seen any thing in histrionic excellence to surpass, few to
+equal it. We mean when, in the first scene of the third act, after the
+assassination of Caesar, he returned to the senate house, and, dropping
+on one knee, hung over the mangled body: his attitude surpassed all
+powers of description. Then when after gazing for a time in horror at
+the corse, with his hands clasped in speechless agony, he looked to
+heaven, as if appealing to its justice, and again turning to his
+murdered friend, exclaimed----
+
+    O mighty Caesar!----Dost thou lie so low?
+    Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils
+    Shrunk to this little measure?--Fare thee well.
+
+All the conflicting passions, and excruciating feelings which Antony can
+be supposed to have felt on that awful occasion--astonishment, fear,
+suspicion, grief, tender affection, indignation, and horror seem rising
+in tumultuous confusion in his face, and glared and flashed in his eyes.
+And though Mr. Cooper less than any actor of equal merit that we
+recollect affects the heart in pathetic passages, we only do him justice
+in declaring that we have rarely known the feelings of an audience so
+forcibly or successively appealed to, as by him in the last words: "Fare
+thee well."
+
+Through the whole of that scene Mr. Cooper was truly admirable. In the
+speech in which he shakes the conspirators by their bloody hands, and,
+like a consummate, artful politician, postpones the indulgence of his
+grief and indignation for the accomplishment of a higher purpose, he was
+not excelled by Barry himself. But in the harangue from the Rostrum he
+missed the mark by aiming too high. Could he forget that that celebrated
+speech is considered the chief test of the performer of Antony, he
+would, we think, deliver it well; but, intent upon making the most of
+it, he failed, and was laboriously erroneous and defective.
+
+In the last speech beginning "This was the noblest Roman of them all"
+Mr. Cooper was censurable. If he had ever committed it to memory, he had
+now forgotten it, and omitting the very best lines, destroyed the whole
+effect of that beautiful passage. That he should be so negligent is to
+be deplored. For errors in judgment, deficiency in talents and powers,
+nay, for casual lapses themselves, candor will make allowance--but want
+of diligence admits of no excuse or palliation.
+
+
+ALEXANDER.
+
+In this character Mr. Cooper would extort commendation from the most
+churlish critic. Alexander is a compound of Hero and Lover, and in both
+extravagant and enthusiastic almost to madness. It is in the former of
+these Mr. C. chiefly displayed his powers. His voice, his person, and
+his manner qualified him for an impressive delineation of that portion
+of the character--but as a lover Mr. Cooper only serves to remind us
+with disadvantage to him, of actors we have seen before. In the proud
+and boastful exultation, the starts of anger, the quick resentment, and
+ardent friendship, the sudden alternation of storm and calm, and, in a
+word, the medley of eccentric vices and virtues which compose this
+gigantic offspring of Lee's bright but fevered brain, the severest
+criticism must concur with the public opinion, which ranks Mr. Cooper's
+Alexander high among the first specimens of the art exhibited in the
+English language. Adverting to the first scene of the second act, when
+irritated by Lysimachus demanding the princess Parisatis in marriage; in
+the swell of passion from the mild rebuke,
+
+    Lysimachus, no more--it is not well;
+    My word you know, was to Hephestion given,
+
+up to the storm of rage
+
+                    "My slave, whom I
+    Could tread to clay, dares utter bloody threats."
+
+The climax of temper was in every transition marked by Mr. Cooper with a
+natural propriety which, though a vigorous and accurate critical
+judgment might suggest, nothing but a high dramatic genius, seconded by
+correspondent organs, could possibly have executed.
+
+Several steps higher still in merit criticism must place the whole of
+the banquet scene. The intoxicated vanity of Alexander--his soft and
+puerile susceptibility of gross and fulsome adulation, his idle contest
+with the blunt old Clytus, his fury and cruel murder of that brave old
+soldier, and his outrageous grief and self reproach for that murder, in
+all of which the fiery brain of the poet has urged the passions to the
+utmost verge of nature, Mr. Cooper was all for which the most sanguine
+admirer could wish, or a reasonable critic hope. But as, in the best
+drawn portraits, one or more limbs or features will be found superior to
+the rest, so in this scene of aggregate excellence, there were three
+successive speeches of such preeminent excellence and superiority that
+they ought to be commemorated. They all turn upon the provoking
+insinuation of Clytus:
+
+    Philip fought men--but Alexander women.
+
+In the jealousy, the astonishment, the wrath of the insulted hero, the
+expression of the actor kept equal flight with the bold wing of the
+poet. Accustomed as we have been to the prodigious exertions of the
+greatest actors in the world we have not witnessed nor can we conceive
+any thing superior to Mr. Cooper in the following speeches----
+
+    _Alex._ Envy by the gods!
+    Is then my glory come to this at last,
+    To conquer _women_!--Nay, he said the stoutest
+    Here would tremble at the dangers he had seen!
+    In all the sickness, all the wounds I bore,
+    When from my reins the Javelin's head was cut.
+    Lysimachus! Hephestion! speak Perdicas!
+    Did I once tremble? Oh, the cursed falsehood!
+    Did I once shake or groan, or act beneath
+    The dauntless resolution of a king?
+
+    _Lysim._ Wine has transported him.
+
+    _Alex._ No, 'tis mere malice.
+    I was a _woman_ too at Oxydrace,
+    When planting on the walls a scaling ladder;
+    I mounted spite of showers of stones, bars, arrows,
+    And all the lumber which they thunder'd down.
+    When you beneath cry'd and out spread your arms,
+    That I should leap among you--did I so?
+
+    _Lysim._ Dread sir, the old man knows not what he says.
+
+    _Alex._ Was I _woman_ when like Mercury,
+    I leaped the walls and flew amidst the foe,
+    And like a baited Lion dyed myself
+    All over in the blood of those bold hunters;
+    'Till spent with toil I battled on my knees,
+    Plucked forth the darts that made my shield a forest,
+    And hurl'd them back with the most unconquer'd fury,
+    Then shining in my arms, I sunned the field,
+    Moved, spoke and fought, and was myself a war.
+
+    _Clytus._ 'Twas all Bravado; for, before you leap'd
+    You saw that I had burst the gates asunder.
+
+Never was a crisis in human passion, more naturally, more appropriately,
+more exquisitely marked and illustrated by action than that of Alexander
+at this juncture by the action of Mr. Cooper. He leaped like a foaming
+tyger from the throne, and, with his arms extended and his fingers
+crooked, seemed rushing upon Clytus as if to tear him in pieces. Then,
+stopping short, as if forbearing a prey too weak for him, he in
+breathless rage exclaimed----
+
+    Oh, that thou wert but once more young!
+    That I might strike thee to the earth
+    For this audacious lie, thou feeble dotard.
+
+After this scene we could relish nothing in the play. We endeavoured to
+disengage ourselves sufficiently to attend to the sequel--but all seemed
+frigid and uninteresting till the mad dying scene of Alexander again
+furnished Mr. Cooper with an opportunity to give scope to his talents,
+which he did, so successfully, that if we had not been filled with the
+former scene it is likely that we should have pronounced this his _chef
+a'oeuvre_.
+
+As we mean to be full upon the tragedy of ALFONSO, we postpone our
+further observations on Mr. Cooper to the next number.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. DWYER.
+
+The fame of this young actor reached America before him. Those who are
+in the habit of perusing the critical productions of London or
+Edinburgh, had learned from them that he was a performer of considerable
+merit in a particular department, and of great promise as a general
+actor. The most favourable reports of the British publications were
+amply confirmed by American gentlemen who saw him perform in Europe; and
+the acknowledged taste and judgment of a respectable literary character
+at New-York, who engaged Mr. Dwyer for the manager of that theatre,
+would have been of itself a sufficient warranty for the most sanguine
+presumptions in his favour. Accordingly he was received by the New-York
+audience for some nights with enthusiastic applause, and on the ground
+of the reports of that city, the play-loving folks of this wound their
+minds up to a strained pitch of expectation. In consequence of this, Mr.
+Warren, who never fails to make use of every opportunity that arises to
+gratify his audience, proceeded to New-York for the purpose of engaging
+Mr. Dwyer for a few nights, if his merits should be found to correspond
+with the general reports respecting him. Mr. Warren's own judgment
+confirmed those reports, and he engaged Mr. Dwyer upon terms which do
+honour to the liberality of his heart, and to his spirit as a manager.
+
+Mr. Dwyer's performances here have answered the expectations we had
+built upon the various criticisms we had read, and the verbal
+communications we had received upon the subject of his professional
+talents. We conjectured that his acting might not entirely, or all at
+once, accord with that kind of taste which the actors we have been
+accustomed to naturally generated in the multitude. His performance of
+BELCOUR was as new to our audience as the chaste and natural acting of
+Garrick was on _his_ first appearance to the admirers of Booth and Quin,
+and for some time our audience could scarcely admire it. In some few
+instances, indeed, a positive disrelish for it was openly avowed, and we
+could not help feeling that those opinions were entitled to particular
+respect as they could have come only by _inspiration_. Being uttered
+before it was possible for the propounders to have formed a judgment by
+mere human means upon that gentleman's merits. This we can aver, that he
+had spoken only four lines, according to the letter press of the copy
+now before us, when some person on one side of us remarked that he was
+nothing to Mr. Chalmers, and in four lines more, another person on the
+other side laid him down under another actor--but one, indeed of a very
+superior kind to Mr. Chalmers.
+
+As we have no pretensions to that kind of _inspiration_--that critical
+second sight (as the Highland Scotch call it) but are fain to judge by
+the mere humdrum human means of reason and experience, we felt it to be
+our duty to see the character entirely performed by Mr. Dwyer before we
+ventured to form an opinion on his acting it; and we are free to confess
+that if all critics find it as difficult as we do to estimate the value
+of an actor's performance, and are honestly disposed, they will not only
+wait as we always do till the whole evidence is before them, but weigh
+it scrupulously, without affection, prejudice, or malice, before they
+venture to pass sentence.
+
+Now it so happened that we differed essentially from those _inspired_
+ones. We thought, as most critics who have seen him in England do, that
+Mr. Dwyer's Belcour was a most elegant and accomplished specimen of
+genteel acting--chaste, graceful, and where the character required and
+admitted it, interesting and impressive. And we had the satisfaction to
+perceive as the play advanced the audience conformed more and more to
+the same opinion. It is greatly to Mr. Dwyer's credit that all the
+applause he received, was extorted by his own merit, and drawn like
+drops of blood reluctantly distilled from languid hearts.
+
+In Tangent a character in which broader humour afforded him an
+opportunity of coming nearer to the genteel taste. Mr. Dwyer met with a
+superior reception at first, and before the end of the play drew the
+most unequivocal acknowledgments of his supreme comic powers.
+
+In the character of Ranger, (Suspicious Husband) though he was
+wretchedly supported by the performers of every character, save
+Strictland and Tester, he was no less successful.
+
+In Vapid he was truly excellent and delivered the epilogue with a force
+and humour which merited and indeed received three successive rounds of
+applause after the curtain dropped.
+
+The English critics concur in pronouncing Mr. Dwyer's the best WILDING
+(Lyar) on the British boards. Nor will an enlightened critic, provided
+he be honest as well as enlightened, deny his great superiority in that
+part. Having seen Lewis, Palmer, I. Bannister, and several others,
+perform young Wilding, we have no hesitation to declare that in many
+parts of the character, but particularly in his account of the feigned
+marriage with Miss Lydia Sibthorpe, and the adventure of the closet and
+the cat, he was superior to any actor but the great original and the
+author of the piece, SAM FOOTE.
+
+Of his Rapid we are unable to say any thing, having been detained from
+the theatre by business to a late hour. His Sir Charles Racket, which
+followed it, was, like Belcour, an elegant specimen of high genteel
+comedy. Something went wrong however towards the conclusion of the piece
+which occasioned it to end rather abruptly.
+
+Upon the whole we must in justice say, that Mr. Dwyer, so far as we have
+seen him go, has shown uncommon talents for the stage--that he is an
+acquisition to the American boards, such as we had not dared to hope
+for, and that we trust next season will bring him back, and exhibit him
+in a range of characters more varied and extensive, and better
+calculated to call forth the great natural powers of which he seems to
+be amply possessed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Grand Musical Performances._
+
+In no country in the world is the practice of music more universally
+extended and at the same time the science so little understood as in
+America. Almost every house included between the Delaware and Schuylkill
+has its piano or harpsichord, its violin, its flute, or its clarinet.
+Almost every young lady and gentleman from the children of the Judge,
+the banker, and the general, down to those of the constable, the
+huckster, and the drummer, can make a noise upon some instrument or
+other, and charm their friends, or split the ears of their neighbours,
+with something which courtesy calls music. Europeans, as they walk our
+streets, are often surprised with the flute rudely warbling "Hail
+Columbia," from an oyster cellar, or the _piano forte_ thumped to a
+female voice screaming "O Lady Fair!" from behind a heap of cheese, a
+basket of eggs, a flour barrel, or a puncheon of apple whiskey; and on
+these grounds we take it for granted that we are a very musical people.
+
+When Boswell asked Dr. Johnson if he did not think there was a great
+deal of learning in Scotland, "Learning," replied the philosopher, "is
+in Scotland as food in a town besieged; every one has a mouthfull, but
+no one a belly-full." The same may be said of music in America. The
+summit of attainment in that delightful science seldom reaching higher
+than the accompanying of a song so as to set off a tolerable voice, or
+aid a weak one, and the attracting a circle of beaus round a young lady,
+while she exhibits the nimbleness of her fingers in the execution of a
+darling waltz, or touches the hearts of the fond youths with a plaintive
+melody accompanied with false notes. Thus far, or but little further,
+does music extend, save in a few scattered instances. Like a
+plover-call, it is used to allure the fluttering tribe into the meshes;
+but when it has done its office in that kind, is laid aside for ever.
+POPE SEXTUS QUINTUS, when he was a cardinal, hung up a net in his room,
+to demonstrate his humility, his father having been a fisherman; but as
+soon as he was made pope, he pulled it down again, shrewdly saying, "I
+have caught the fish." Miss Hannah More remarks that few ladies attend
+to music after marriage, however skilful they may have been before it.
+Indeed nothing is more common than to hear a lady acknowledge it. "Mrs.
+Racket will you do us the favour," &c. says a dapper young gentleman
+offering his hand to lead a lady to the piano. "Do excuse me, sir, I beg
+of you," she replies, "I have not touched an instrument of music half a
+dozen times since I was married--one, you know, has so much to do." Thus
+music as a science lags in the rear, while musical instruments in
+myriads twang away in the van: and thus the window cobweb having caught
+its flies for the season is swept away by the housemaid.
+
+This is, in fact, an evil. It is assuming the frivolity, the waste of
+time, the coxcombry, and all the disadvantages of music, without any of
+its substantial benefits. That which Shakspeare praised, and Milton
+cultivated, and which is supposed to be the language of saints and
+angels when they hymn their Maker's praise, ought to be a nation's care:
+but then it ought to be so only on proper grounds and in the true
+ethereal spirit which fits it for divine. Not the miserable or the
+vitious levities of music, which serve but to unman the soul, to wake
+the dormant sensualities of the heart, and far from lifting the spirit
+to the skies, but sink it to the centre. Not what Shakspeare calls "the
+lascivious pleasing of a lute" for fools "to caper to in a lady's
+chamber," but harmony, such as befits the creature to pour forth at the
+altar of the Creator; the sublime raptures of Handel; the divine strains
+of Haydn, and the majestic compositions of Purcel, Pergolesse, and
+Graun.
+
+We have been led into these observations by a report which has for some
+days prevailed, that a grand performance of music, such as we describe,
+something on the plan of the commemoration of Handel, which took place
+in the year 1784, at Westminster Abbey, and much superior to any thing
+ever heard in America, is contemplated. Upon inquiry we find the report
+to be true, and that a combination of musical powers hitherto unknown
+in this country, will, at St. Augustine Church, perform a Grand
+Selection of Sacred Music, after the manner of the oratorios in Europe.
+
+Having made it our business to procure the best information upon this
+subject, we are enabled to state that the pieces to be performed on this
+occasion will be selected from the very highest order of musical
+composition--the Messiah of Handel, the Creation of Haydn, &c. That
+besides those, a number of the choicest compositions vocal and
+instrumental, by Handel, Graun, Pergolesse, &c. will be performed, and
+that, in order to make the exhibition as perfect as possible, every
+attainable assistance will be brought in to give magnificence to the
+performances and "swell the note of praise."
+
+On this grand occasion, not only all the professional musicians of this
+city will unite, but all who can be collected from the other States will
+be summoned to lend their aid, in addition to which a number of ladies
+and gentlemen, amateurs, will give their assistance.
+
+A plan so well worthy of an enlightened nation's patronage, cannot fail
+of success in such a country as America.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[K] Shakspeare Midsummer night's Dream.
+
+[L] Milton.
+
+
+
+
+ALFONSO,
+
+KING OF CASTILE:
+
+A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS.
+
+BY M. G. LEWIS.
+
+    For us and for our Tragedy,
+    Thus stooping to your clemency,
+    We beg your _candid_ hearing patiently.
+
+    Hamlet.
+
+PHILADELPHIA:
+
+PUBLISHED BY BRADFORD AND INSKEEP: INSKEEP AND BRADFORD,
+NEW-YORK; AND WILLIAM M'ILHENNY, BOSTON.
+
+_Smith & M'Kenzie, printers._
+
+1810.
+
+
+
+
+ALFONSO, KING OF CASTILE:
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+Alfonso XI.
+Orsino.
+Caesario.
+Father Bazil.
+Henriquez.
+Melchior.
+Ricardo.
+Gomez.
+Marcos.
+Lucio.
+First Citizen.
+Second Citizen.
+
+Friars, Soldiers, Citizens, Conspirators, &c.
+
+Amelrosa.
+Ottilia.
+Estella.
+Inis.
+
+Nuns, and Female attendants on Amelrosa.
+
+_The scene lies in Burgos (the capital of Old Castile) and in the
+adjoining Forest._
+
+The Action is supposed to pass in the year 1345.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_The palace-garden.--Daybreak._
+
+Ottilia _enters in a night dress: her hair flows dishevelled._
+
+_Otti._ Dews of the morn, descend! Breathe, summer gales,
+My flushed cheeks woo ye! Play, sweet wantons, play
+'Mid my loose tresses, fan my panting breast,
+Quench my blood's burning fever!--Vain, vain prayer!
+Not Winter, throned 'midst Alpine snows, whose will
+Can with one breath, one touch, congeal whole realms,
+And blanch whole seas; not that fiend's self could ease
+This heart, this gulph of flames, this purple kingdom,
+Where passion rules and rages!--Oh! my soul!
+Caesario, my Caesario!--[_A pause, during which
+she seems buried in thought--the clock strikes four._]
+                      Hark!--Ah me!
+Is't still so early? Will't be still so long,
+Ere my love comes? Oh! speed, ye pitying hours,
+Your flight, till mid-day brings Caesario back;
+Then, if ye list, rest your kind wings for ever!
+
+_Enter_ Lucio.
+
+_Luc._ 'Tis past the hour! I fear I shall be chid,
+For lo! the sun already darts his rays
+Athwart the garden-paths.
+
+_Otti._ How still! how tranquil!
+All rests, except Ottilia! I'll regain
+The hateful couch, where still my husband sleeps:
+Ere long he sleeps forever! Ha! why steals
+Yon boy.----Amazement! Do my eyes deceive me?
+
+_Luc._ Hist! hist! Estella?
+Estella. [_Appearing on the terrace of the palace._]
+
+_Est._ Lucio?
+
+_Luc._ Ay, the same.
+
+_Est._ Good! good!
+
+_Luc._ But pray you bid him speed. So loud
+His black Arabian snorts, and paws the earth,
+I fear he'll wake the guards.
+
+_Est._ Farewell, I'll warn him. [_Ext. severally._
+
+_Otti._ [_Alone._] 'Twas Lucio, sure!--What business.--Ah, how ready
+Is fear to whisper what love hates to hear.
+
+[Estella _and_ Caesario _appear on the terrace._]
+
+See! see! again Estella comes--and with her--
+Shame and despair! burst from your sockets eyes,
+Since ye dare show me this!--'Tis he! 'Tis he!
+Caesario! on my soul, Caesario's self----
+He bids farewell!--He waves a glittering scarf,
+A gift of love, no doubt!--Now to his lips
+He glues it!--Blistered be those lips, Caesario,
+Which have so oft sworn faith to me:--She goes----
+Egyptian plagues go with her!      [_Exit Estella._
+
+_Caesa._ [_Looking back at the palace._] Yet one look,
+One grateful blessing for this night of rapture;
+Then, shrine of my soul's idol! casket, holding
+My heart's most precious gem, awhile farewell!
+But, when my foot next bends thy floors, expect
+No more this cautious gait, this voice subdued!
+Proud and erect, with manly steps and strong,
+I'll come a Conqueror and a King, to lead
+With sceptred hand forth from her bower my bride,
+And bid Castile adore her, like Caesario.
+Farewell, once more farewell!
+
+_Otti._ [_Advancing._] I'll cross his path,
+And blast him with a look.
+
+_Caesa._ Ottilia?
+
+_Otti._ What!
+Am I then grown so hideous that my sight
+Withers the roses on a warrior's cheeks,
+And makes his steps recoil! In Moorish battles
+He gazed undaunted on death's frightful form,
+But shrinks to view a monster like Ottilia.
+
+_Caesa._ [_Aside._] Confusion! Should her rage alarm the guards.
+
+_Otti._ Or do I wrong myself? Is still _my_ form
+Unchanged, but not thy faith? Speak, traitor, speak!
+
+_Caesa._ I own, most dear Ottilia----
+
+_Otti._ Hark! he owns it!
+Hear, Earth and Heaven, he owns it! No excuse!
+No varnish, no disguise!--He will not stoop
+To use dissembling with a wretch he scorns,
+Nor thinks it worth his pains to fool me further!
+Proceed, brave sir, proceed! In trivial strain
+Tell me how light are lovers' oaths, how fond
+Youth's heart of change, how quick love comes and flies;
+And own that yours for me is flown for ever.
+Then with indifference ask a parting kiss,
+Hope we shall still be friends, profess esteem,
+Thank me for favours past, and coldly leave me.
+
+_Caesa._ How shall I hush this storm? [_Aside._]
+
+_Otti._ Oh! fool, fool, fool!
+I thought him absent; thought mid-day would bring
+My hero back, and pass'd this sleepless night
+In prayers, and sighs, and vows for his return;
+While scorned all oaths, forgot all faith, all honour,
+Clasped in Estella's wanton arms he lay,
+And mock'd the poor, undone, deceiv'd Ottilia!
+
+_Caesa._ Estella? [_then aside_] Blest mistake!
+
+_Otti._ What! didst thou hope
+My rival's name unknown? Oh! well I know it,
+Estella! cursed Estella! Still I'll shriek it
+Piercing and loud, till Earth, and Air, and Ocean,
+Ring with her name, thy guilt, and my despair.
+
+_Caesa._ And need thy words, Ottilia, blame my falsehood?
+Oh! in each feature of thy beauteous face
+I blush to read reproaches far more keen.
+Those glittering eyes, though now with lightnings armed,
+Which erst were used to pour on blest Caesario
+Kind looks, and fondest smiles, and tears of rapture;
+That voice, by wrath untuned, once only breathing
+Sounds like the ringdove's, amorous, soft, and sweet;
+That snowy breast, now swelled by storms of passion,
+But which in happier days by love was heaved,
+By love for me!--The least of these, Ottilia,
+Gives to my heart a deeper stab than all
+Thy words could do, were every word a dagger.
+
+_Otti._ Thou prince of hypocrites!
+
+_Caesa._ Think'st thou I flatter!
+Then trust thyself--[_leading her to a fountain._]
+View on this watery mirror
+Thine angel-form reflected--Lovely shade,
+Bid this indignant fair confess, how vain
+Estella's charms were to contend with thine!
+And yet--oh madman! at Estella's feet
+Breathing my vows, these eyes forgot these lips,
+Than roses sweeter, redder--Oh! I'll gaze
+No more, for gazing I detest myself.
+
+_Otti._ This subtile snake, how winds he round my heart!
+Oh didst thou speak sincerely.
+
+_Caesa._ At thy feet,
+Adored Ottilia! lo! I kneel repentant.
+Couldst thou forgive--Vain man, it must not be.
+Forgive the fool, who for a lamp's dull gleaming
+Scorn'd the sun's noon-tide splendour? for a pebble
+Who gave a diamond worth a monarch's ransom?
+No, no, thou canst not.
+
+_Otti._ Cannot? Oh Caesario,
+Thou lov'st no longer, or thou ne'er couldst doubt
+I can, I must forgive thee!----[_falling on his bosom_]
+
+_Caesa._ Best Ottilia,
+No seraph's song e'er bore a sweeter sound
+Breathed in the ear of some expiring saint,
+Than pardon from thy lips.
+
+_Otti._ Those lips again
+Thus seal it!----Yet to prove thy faith, I ask--
+
+_Caesa._ What can Ottilia ask, and I deny?
+
+_Otti._ The scarf you wear.----
+
+_Caesa._ [_Starting._] Ottilia!
+
+_Otti._ Well I know
+It was Estella's gift. I'll therefore wear it,
+And with her jealous pangs repay my own.
+Give me that scarf.
+
+_Caesa._ And can Ottilia wish
+So mean a triumph?
+
+_Otti._ Ha! beware, Caesario!
+My foot is on thy neck, and should I find
+Thy head a snake's I'll crush it! quick! the scarf!
+Am I refused?
+
+_Caesa._ Ottilia, be persuaded.
+More nobly use thy power.
+
+_Otti._ [_Suffocated with rage._] The scarf! the scarf!
+
+_Caesa._ I value not the toy, nor her who gave it.
+Then wherefore triumph o'er a fallen foe?
+It must not be----Hark! footsteps!--Sweet, farewell!
+Ere night we meet again.----[_Going._]
+
+_Otti._ Yes, go, perfidious!
+But know, ere night, thy head shall grace the scaffold!
+
+_Caesa._ [_Returning._] Saidst thou----
+
+_Otti._ Last night my husband's dreams revealed
+A secret.
+
+_Caesa._ [_Starting._] How? thy husband? Marquis Guzman?
+
+_Otti._ He spoke of plots--of soldiers brib'd----
+
+[_looking round mysteriously, and pointing to the lower part of the
+palace._]
+
+Of vaults
+Beneath the royal chamber--Wherefore tell I
+To thee a tale thou know'st thyself full well?
+I'll tell it to the king----[_Going._]
+
+_Caesa._ Ottilia, stay!
+
+_Otti._ The scarf.
+
+_Caesa._ [_Giving it._] 'Tis thine!----My life is in thy hands.
+Be secret, and I live thy slave forever.      [_Exit._
+
+_Otti._ [_Alone._] 'Tis plain! 'tis plain! traitor, thou lov'st her still!
+Am I forsaken then? Oh shame, shame, shame!
+Forsaken too by one, for whom last night
+I dared a deed which----Ha! the palace opens,
+And lo! Estella with the princess comes.
+I'll hence, but soon returning make my rival
+Feel what I suffer now. Thus fell Megaera;
+Tears from her heart one of those snakes which gnaw it,
+To throw upon some wretch; and when it stings him,
+Wild laughs the fiend to see his pangs, well knowing
+How keen those pangs are, since she feels the same.           [_Exit._
+
+Amelrosa, Estella, Inis, _and ladies, appear on the terrace of the
+palace._
+
+_Amel._ Forth, forth my friends! the morn will blush to hear
+Our tardy greeting [_descending._] Gently, winds, I pray ye,
+Breathe through this grove; and thou, all-radiant sun,
+Woo not these bowers beloved with kiss too fierce.
+Oh! look, my ladies, how yon beauteous rose,
+O'er charged with dew, bends its fair head to earth,
+Emblem of sorrowing virtue! [_to Inis_] would'st thou break it?
+See'st not its silken leaves are stain'd with tears?
+Ever, my Inis, where thou find'st these traces,
+Show thou most kindness, most respect. I'll raise it,
+And bind it gently to its neighbour rose;
+So shall it live, and still its blushing bosom
+Yield the wild bee, its little love, repose.
+
+_Inis._ Its love? Can flowers then love?
+
+_Amel._ Oh! what cannot?
+There's nothing lives, in air, on earth, in ocean,
+But lives to love! for when the Great Unknown
+Parted the elements, and out of chaos
+Formed this fair world with one blest blessing word,
+That word was Love? Angels, with golden clarions,
+Prolonged in heavenly strain the heavenly sound:
+The mountain-echoes caught it: the four winds
+Spread it, rejoicing o'er the world of waters;
+And since that hour, in forest, or by fountain,
+On hill or moor, whate'er be Nature's song,
+Love is her theme, Love! universal Love!
+
+_Est._ See, lady where the king----
+
+_Amel._ I haste to meet him.
+
+_Enter_ Alfonso, _and attendants._
+
+_Amel._ [_Kneeling._] My father! my dear father!
+
+_Alfon._ Heaven's best dews
+Fall on thy beauteous head, my Amelrosa,
+And be each drop a blessing!--Cheered by morning
+Fair smile the skies; but nothing smiles on me,
+Till I have seen thee well, and know thee happy.
+
+_Amel._ And I _were_ happy, if my eyes perceived not
+Tears clouding thine. Oh! what has power to grieve thee
+On this proud day, when rich in spoils and glory
+Caesario brings thee back thy conquering troops,
+That brave young warrior? Spite of Moorish hosts,
+And all their new-found engines of destruction,
+Sulphureous mines and mouths of iron thunder,
+He forced their gates! He leap'd their flaming gulphs!
+Pale as their banner'd crescent fled the Moors,
+And proudly streamed our flag o'er Algesiras!
+
+_Alfon._ And with them fled--Oh! have I words to speak it?
+Thy brother, Amelrosa!
+
+_Amel._ How! my brother?
+
+_Alfon._ Oh! 'tis too true. He thinks I live too long,
+So joined the Moors to hurl me from my throne,
+Guided their councils, sharpened their resentment,
+And, when they fled, fled with them.
+
+_Amel._ Powers of mercy!
+Can there be hearts so black!
+
+_Alfon._ Poor wretched man,
+Where shall I turn me? where, since lust of power
+Makes a son faithless, find a friend that's true?
+Where fly for comfort?----
+
+_Amel._ To this heart, my father!
+This heart, which, while it throbs, shall throb to love thee.
+Stream thy dear eyes? my hand shall dry those tears;
+Aches thy poor head? My bosom shall support it!
+And when thou sleep'st, I'll watch thy dreams, and pray----
+"Changed be to joy the sorrow which afflicts
+My king, my father, my soul's best friend!"--
+
+_Alfon._ My child! my comfort!--Yes, yes! here's the chain,
+The only chain that binds me to existence--
+And should that break too--should'st thou e'er deceive me--
+Oh! should'st thou, Amelrosa.
+
+_Amel._ Doubts my father?
+
+_Alfon._ No, no!--Nay, droop not. By my soul, I think thee
+As free from guile, as yon blue vault from clouds,
+And clear as rain-drops ere they touch the earth!
+Nor love I mean suspicion:--where I give
+My heart I give my faith, my whole firm faith,
+And hold it base to doubt the thing I value.
+
+_Amel._ Then why that wronging thought?
+
+_Alfon._ By fear 'twas prompted;
+By fear to lose, but not by doubt to keep.
+And well my heart may fear. Think, think how keenly
+Ingratitude has wrung that trusting heart!
+Think that my faithless son but rends anew
+A wound scarce fourteen years had healed.
+
+_Amel._ Orsino.
+
+_Alfon._ He! he! that man--Oh! how I loved that man!
+And yet that man betrayed me!
+
+_Amel._ Is that certain?
+Might not deception----? Slander loves the court,
+And slippery are the heights of royal favour.
+Who stumbles, falls; who falls, finds none to raise him.
+
+_Alfon._ Nay, but I saw the writings; 'twas his hand,
+His very hand, nor dared he disavow it:
+For when I taxed him with his guilt, and showed him
+His letters to the Moor, awhile he eyed me
+In sullen silence, then contemptuous smiled,
+And coldly bade me treat him as I list.
+Arraigned, no plea excused his dark offence;
+Condemned to die, no word implored for pardon:
+But my heart pleaded stronger than all words!
+I saved his life, yet bade him live a prisoner
+Or clear himself from guilt.
+
+_Amel._ And did he never----
+
+_Alfon._ Without one word or look, one tear or sigh,
+He turned away, and silent sought the dungeon
+Where three years since he died----Ah! said I, died?
+No, no, he lives! lives in my memory still,
+Such as in youth's fond dreams my fancy formed him,
+Virtuous and brave, faithful, sincere and just;
+My friend? my guide?--a Phoenix among men!
+How now? What haste brings fair Ottilia hither?
+
+_Enter_ Ottilia, _wearing the scarf_.
+
+Pardon, my sovereign, that uncalled I come
+You see a suppliant from a dying man.
+
+_Alfon._ Lady, from whom?
+
+_Otti._ My husband, Marquis Guzman,
+Lies on the bed of death, and, stung by conscience,
+By me unloads it of this secret guilt!
+Those traitor-scrolls, which bore Orsino's name--
+
+_Alfon._ Say on, say on!
+
+_Otti._ By Guzman's hand were forged.
+
+_Alfon._ Forged?--No, no, no! Lady, it cannot be!
+Unsay thy words or stab me!
+
+_Otti._ Gracious Sir,
+Look on these papers.
+
+_Alfon._ Ha!
+
+[_After looking at them, drops them, and clasps his hands in agony._]
+
+_Amel._ Father! dear father!
+
+_Alfon._ Father! I merit not that name, nor any
+Sweet, good, or gracious. Call me villain! fiend!
+Suspicious tyrant! treacherous, calm assassin!
+Who slew the truest, noblest friend, that ever
+Man's heart was blest with!--Ha! why kneels my child?
+
+_Amel._ For pardon first that I have dar'd deceive thee----
+
+_Alfon._ Deceive me!
+
+_Amel._ Next to pay pure thanks to Heaven,
+Which grants me to allay my father's anguish
+With words of most sweet comfort.
+
+_Alfon._ Ha! what means't thou?
+
+_Amel._ Four years are past since first Orsino's sorrows
+Struck on my startled ear: that sound once heard,
+Ne'er left my ear again, but day and night,
+Whether I walked or sate, awake or sleeping,
+The captive, the poor captive still was there.
+The rain seemed but _his_ tears; his hopeless groans
+Spoke in each hollow wind; his nights of anguish
+Robbed mine of rest; or, if I slept, my dreams
+Showed his pale wasted form, his beamless eye
+Fixed on the moon, his meager hands now folded
+In dull despair, now rending his few locks
+Untimely gray; and now again in frenzy
+Dreadful he shrieked; tore with his teeth his flesh;
+'Gainst his dark prison-walls dashed out his brains,
+And died despairing! From my couch I started;
+Sunk upon my knees; I kissed this cross,
+----"Captive," I cried, "I'll die or set thee free!"----
+
+_Alfon._ And didst thou? Bless thee, didst thou?
+
+_Amel._ Moved by gold,
+More by my prayers, most by his own heart's pity,
+His jailer yielded to release Orsino,
+And spread his death's report.--One night when all
+Was hushed, I sought his tower, unlocked his chains,
+And bade him rise and fly! With vacant stare,
+Bewildered, wondering, doubting what he heard,
+He followed to the gate. But when he viewed
+The sky thick sown with stars, and drank heaven's air,
+And heard the nightingale and saw the moon
+Shed o'er these groves a shower of silver light,
+Hope thawed his frozen heart; in livelier current
+Flowed his grief-thickened blood, his proud soul melted,
+And down his furrowed cheeks kind tears came stealing,
+Sad, sweet, and gentle as the dews, which evening
+Sheds o'er expiring day. Words had he none,
+But with his looks he thanked me. At my feet
+He sunk; he wrung my hand; his pale lips pressed it;
+He sighed, he rose, he fled; he lives, my father!
+
+_Alfon._ [_Kneeling._] Fountain of bliss! words are too poor for thanks;
+Oh! deign to read them here!
+
+_Amel._ Canst thou forgive
+My long deceit----
+
+_Alfon._ Forgive thee? To my heart
+Thus let me clasp thee, best of earthly blessings,
+Balm of my soul, and saviour of my justice!
+Oh! blest were kings, when fraud ensnares their sense,
+And passion arms their hands, if still they found
+One who like thee dared stand the victim's friend,
+Wrest from proud lawless Power his brandished javelin,
+And make him virtuous in his own despite!
+
+_Enter_ Ricardo.
+
+_Ricar._ My liege, your conquering general brave Caesario,
+Draws near the walls.
+
+_Alfon._ I hasten to receive
+The hero and his troops: that duty done,
+I'll seek my wronged friend's pardon. Say my child,
+Where dwells Orsino?
+
+_Amel._ In the neighbouring forest
+He lives a hermit: Inis knows the place.
+
+_Alfon._ Ere night I'll seek him there. And now farewell
+Ever beloved, but now more loved than ever!
+Oh! still as now watch o'er and timely check
+My hasty nature; still, their guardian-angel,
+Protect my people, e'en from _me_ protect them:
+Then, after ages, pondering o'er the page
+Which bears my name, shall see, and seen shall bless
+That union most beloved of man and heaven,
+A patriot monarch, and a people free!
+
+[_Exit with_ Ricardo _and attendants_.]
+
+_Amel._ My good kind father! fatal, fatal, secret,
+How weigh'st thou down my heart! [_Remains buried in thought._]
+
+_Otti._ I'll haste and calm
+My husband's conscience with Orsino's safety.
+But when our Spanish beauties throng the ramparts,
+Anxious to see, and anxious to be seen,
+Why stays Estella from the walls?
+
+_Estel._ Both duty
+And friendship chain me where the princess stays.
+
+_Otti._ Duty and friendship? trust me, glorious words;--
+Yet there's a sweeter--Love! Boasts the gay band,
+Which circles brave Caesario's laurelled car,
+No youth who proudly wears Estella's colours,
+And knows no glory like Estella's smile?
+
+_Estel._ Ha! Sure my sight must err?
+
+_Otti._ [_Aside._] She sees and knows it.
+
+_Estel._ It must be that!----Princess!
+
+_Otti._ [Aside.] So so! now flies she
+To her she--Pylades for aid and comfort.
+Oh most rare sympathy! How the fiend starts!
+And, trust me, changes colour!
+
+_Amel._ Say'st thou? how?
+Away, it cannot be!
+
+_Estel._ Convince thyself then.
+
+_Otti._ [_Aside._] Ay, look your fill! look till your eye-strings break.
+For 'tis that scarf; that very, very scarf?----
+So now the question comes.
+
+_Estel._ Forgive me lady,
+Nor hold me rude, that much I wish to know,
+Whence came the scarf you wear?
+
+_Otti._ This scarf----Alas!
+A paltry toy! a very soldier's present.
+
+_Estel._ A soldier's!
+
+_Otti._ Ay. 'Twas sent me from the camp:
+But with such bitter taunts on her who wrought it----
+Breathed ever mortal man such thoughts of me,
+_My_ heart would break or _his_ should bleed for it!
+
+_Estel._ Say you?
+
+_Otti._ Nay mark--"Receive, proud fair,"--thus ran the letter--
+"This scarf, forced on me by a hand I loath,
+With many an amorous word and tasteless kiss!
+As I for thee, so burns for me the wanton;
+To me as thine, cold is my heart to her;
+Nor canst thou more despise the gift than I
+Scorn the fond fool who gave it!"----
+
+_Amel._ Oh! my heart!
+
+_Inis._ Look to the Princess.
+
+_Otti._ [_Starting._] Ha!
+
+_Estel._ She faints!
+
+_Amel._ No, no,
+'Tis nothing--mid-day's heat--the o'erpowering sun--
+I'll in and rest.
+
+_Otti._ Princess, permit----
+
+_Amel._ No lady!
+I need no aid of thine--In, in, Estella.
+Oh! cruel, false Caesario!
+
+[_Exit with_ Estella, Inis, _and Ladies_.]
+
+_Otti._ [_Alone._] Ha! is't so?
+And flies my falcon at so high a lure?
+The princess! 'tis the princess that he loves!--
+And shall I calmly see her bear away
+This dear-bought prize, my secret crime's reward,
+My lord, my love, my life, my all?----She dies!      [_Exit._
+
+_End of Act I._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. _A hall in_ Caesario's _palace_.
+
+[_Shouts heard without._]
+
+_Enter_ Caesario [_a general's staff in his hand_] _followed by_
+Henriquez, _citizens and soldiers_.
+
+_Caesa._ Thanks, worthy friends! No further!--Pleased I hear
+These shouts, which thank me for Alfonso's safety!
+But though _my_ arms have quelled the Moors, your love
+Alone can shield him from a foe more dangerous,
+From his proud rebel son!--Farewell, assured
+I live but for your use!
+
+_First Citi._ Long live Caesario!
+
+_Sec. Citi._ Long live the conqueror of the Moors!
+
+_All._ Huzza!         [_Exeunt._
+
+_Manent_ Caesario _and_ Henriquez.
+
+_Caesa._ Kind friends, farewell!--Ay, shout, ye brawlers, shout!
+Pour out unmeaning praise till the skies ring!
+'Twill school your deep-toned throats to roar tomorrow,
+--"Long live Caesario! Sovereign of Castile!"--
+Mark you, Henriquez, how the royal dotard
+Hung on my neck, termed me his kingdom's angel,
+His friend, his saviour, his----Oh! my tongue burned
+To thunder in his startled ear----"The man
+Who raised this war, and fired your son's ambition,
+Your daughter's husband, and your mortal foe,
+That man am I!"----
+
+_Hen._ Then absence has not cooled,
+It seems, your hatred----
+
+_Caesa._ Could'st thou think it? thou,
+Who know'st a secret to all else unknown!
+Know'st me no stranger-youth, no chance-adventurer,
+Whose sword's his fortune, as Castile believes me;
+But one of mightiest views and proudest hopes,
+Galled by injustice, panting for revenge,
+Son of a hero! wronged Orsino's son!
+
+_Hen._ Yet might your wealth and power--yon general's staff--
+Alfonso's countless favours----
+
+_Caesa._ Favours? Insults!
+Curses when proffered by a hand I hate!
+Bright seems ambition to my eye, and sure
+To reign is glorious; yet such fixed aversion
+I bear this man, and such my thirst for vengeance,
+I would not sell his head, once in my power,
+Though the price tendered were the crown that decks it!
+Yet that, too, shortly shall be mine!--Say, Marquis,
+How speeds our plot?
+
+_Hen._ 'Tis ripe: beneath his chambers
+The vaults are ours, the sleeping fires disposed;
+The mine waits but your word.
+
+_Caesa._ Tonight it springs then,
+And hurls my foe in burning clouds to heaven--
+O! rapturous sight!
+
+_Hen._ And can that sight give rapture
+Which wrings with anguish Amelrosa's bosom?
+She loves her father----
+
+_Caesa._ Loves she not her husband?
+
+_Hen._ She'll hate him, when she knows----
+
+_Caesa._ She ne'er shall know it!
+All shall be held her rebel brother's deed;
+And while contending passions shake the rabble,
+(Grief for the sire, resentment 'gainst the son;
+And pity for the princess) forth I'll step,
+Avow our marriage, claim the crown her right,
+And, when she mounts the throne, ascend it with her.
+
+_Hen._ Oh! she will drown that bloody throne with tears!
+And should she learn who bade them flow----
+
+_Caesa._ Say on----
+
+_Hen._ She'll loath you!
+
+_Caesa._ [_With a scornful smile_] She'll forgive me.
+
+_Hen._ Never, never!
+I know the princess; know a daughter's love,
+A daughter's grief----
+
+_Caesa._ And are not daughters women?
+By nature tender, trustful, kind, and fickle,
+Prone to forgive, and practised in forgetting?
+Let the fair things but rave their hour at ease,
+And weep their fill, and wring their pretty hands,
+Faint between whiles, and swear by every saint
+They'll never, never, never see you more!
+Then when the larum's hushed, profess repentance,
+Say a few kind false words, drop a few tears,
+Force a fond kiss or two, and all's forgiven.
+Away! I know her sex!
+
+_Hen._ But know not her!
+Her heart will bleed; and can you wound that heart,
+Yet swear you love her?
+
+_Caesa._ Dearly, fiercely love her;
+But not so fiercely as I loath this king!--
+Hatred of him, cherished from youth, is now
+My second nature! 'tis the air I breathe,
+The stream which fills my veins, my life's chief source,
+My food, my drink, my sleep, warmth, health and vigour,
+Mixed with my blood, and twisted round my heart-strings!
+To cease to hate him, I must cease to breathe!--
+Never to know one hour's repose or pleasure
+While loathed Alfonso lived,--such was my oath,
+Breathed on my broken-hearted mother's lips.
+She heard! her eyes flashed with new fire; she kissed me,
+Murmured Orsino's name, blessed it and died!--
+That oath I'll keep!
+
+_Enter_ Melchior.
+
+_Caesa._ Melchior! why thus alarmed?
+
+_Mel._ I've cause too good! our lives hang by a thread!
+Guzman is dying.
+
+_Caesa._ and _Hen._ How?
+
+_Mel._ Remorse already
+Hath wrung one secret from him; and I fear,
+The next fit brings our plot.
+
+_Caesa._ Speed, speed, Henriquez!
+Place spies around his gate! guard every avenue!
+Mark every face that comes or goes--Away!
+
+[_Exit_ Henriquez.
+
+_Caesa._ I'll watch the king myself!
+
+_Mel._ As yet he's safe.
+Soon as he parted from the troops, Alfonso,
+By Inis guided, tow'rds the forest sped,
+To seek and sooth his late-found friend Orsino.
+
+_Caesa._ [_Starting_] Whom, whom? Orsino? what Orsino? speak.
+
+_Mel._ The count San Lucar, long thought dead, but saved.
+It seems, by Amelrosa's care--Time presses----
+I must away: farewell.
+
+_Caesa._ At one, remember--
+Beneath the royal tower----
+
+_Mel._ Fear not my failing.
+
+_Caesa._ [_Alone_] He lives! My father lives!
+Oh, let but vengeance
+Fire him to spurn Alfonso and his friendship.
+His martial fame the memory of his virtues,
+His talents, rank, and sufferings undeserved----
+Oh! what a noble column to support
+My new-raised power!      [_Going._]
+
+_Enter_ Ottilia. [_Veiled._]
+
+_Otti._ Caesario, stay!
+
+_Caesa._ Forgive me,
+Fair lady, if my speech appears ungentle;
+Such business calls----
+
+_Otti._ [_Unveiling_] Than mine there's none more urgent.
+
+_Caesa._ Ottilia!
+
+_Otti._ Need I say what brings me hither?
+
+_Caesa._ Those angry eyes too plainly speak, that still Estella.
+
+_Otti._ She? Dissembler! fiend?--Peace, peace;
+I come not here to rave, but to command.
+You love the Princess, are beloved again----
+Speak not! She saw this scarf; her tears, her anguish
+Betrayed her secret. Yes, you love the Princess!
+But, while I breathe, if e'er her hand is yours,
+Strike me dead, lightnings!
+
+_Caesa._ Hear me!
+
+_Otti._ Look on this [_showing a paper_.]
+
+_Caesa._ 'Tis Guzman's hand.
+
+_Otti._ He bade me to the king
+Bear it with other papers; but my prudence,
+For mine own purposes, kept back the scroll.
+Lo! here a full confession of your plots--
+The mine described--the vault--the hour--the signal--
+What troops are gained--the list of sworn confederates--
+And foremost in the list here stands Caesario!
+
+_Caesa._ Confusion!
+
+_Otti._ Nay, 'tis so! Now mark me, youth!
+Either mine hand at midnight as my husband's
+Clasps thine, or gives this paper to Alfonso!
+Prepare a friar--at Juan's chapel meet me
+At midnight, or the king----
+
+_Caesa._ You rave, Ottilia!
+While Guzman lives.
+
+_Otti._ Young man, his hours are counted:
+Three scarce are his--Last night I drugged the bowl
+In which he drank a farewell to the world.
+Ay, ay, 'tis true! thou'rt mine! With blood I've bought thee!
+Nothing now parts us but the grave,--and there,
+E'en there I'll claim thee!--If tonight thou com'st not--
+
+_Caesa._ I will, by heaven!
+
+_Otti._ Nay, fail at your own peril----
+Your life is in my power! my breath can blast you!
+Choose, then, Caesario, 'twixt thy bane and bliss--
+Love or a grave! a kingdom or a scaffold!
+My arms or death's--By yonder sun I swear,
+Ere morning dawns, thou shalt be mine or nothing!      [_Exit._
+
+_Caesa._ Is't so?--Thy blood then on thy head--This paper--
+----This female fiend--the scarf too!--I must straight
+Appease the princess--some well-varnished tale
+----Some glib excuse--Oh! hateful task! Oh, Truth!
+How my soul longs once more to join thy train,
+Tear off the mask, and show me as I am!
+The wretch for life immur'd; the Christian slave
+Of Pagan lords; or he whose bloody sweat
+Speeds the fleet galley o'er the sparkling waves,
+Bears easy toil, light chains, and pleasant bondage,
+Weighed with thy service, Falsehood! Still to smile
+On those we loath; to teach the lips a lesson
+Smooth, sweet, and false; to watch the tell-tale eye,
+Fashion each feature, sift each honest word
+That swells upon the tongue, and fear to find
+A traitor in one's self--By heaven, I know
+No toil, no curse, no slavery, like dissembling!
+
+[_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II. _A wild forest, with rocks, waterfalls, &c. On one side a
+hermitage and a rustic tomb, with various pieces of armour scattered
+near it, "Victoria" is engraved on it; a river is in the background._
+
+Orsino _stands on a rock which overhangs the river_.
+
+_Orsi._ Yes thou art lovely World! That blue-robed sky;
+These giant rocks, their forms grotesque and awful
+Reflected on the calm stream's lucid mirror;
+These reverend oaks, through which (their rustling leaves
+Dancing and twinkling in the sunbeams) light
+Now gleams, now disappears, while yon fierce torrent,
+Tumbling from crag to crag with measured dash,
+Makes to the ear strange music: World, oh! World!
+Who sees thee such must needs confess thee fair!
+Who knows thee not must needs suppose thee good.
+
+[_With a sudden burst of indignation_]
+
+But I have tried thee, World! know all these beauties
+Mere shows and snares; know thee a gilded serpent,
+A flowery bank whose sweets smile o'er a pitfall;
+A splendid prison, precious tomb, fair palace,
+Whose golden domes allure poor wanderers in,
+And when they've entered, crush them! Such I know thee
+And, knowing, loath thy charms! Rise, rise, ye storms!
+Mingle ye elements! Flash lightnings, flash!
+Unmask this witch! blast her pernicious beauty!
+And show me Nature as she is, a monster!
+--I'll look no more! Oh! my torn heart! Victoria!
+My son! Oh God! My son! Lost! lost! both lost!
+    [_Leaning against the tomb._
+
+_Enter_ Alfonso, Inis, _and Attendants_.
+
+_Inis._ This is the hermit's cave; and see, my liege, Orsino's self.
+
+_Alfon._ [_Starting back._] No, no, that living spectre
+Is not my gallant friend. I seek in vain
+The full cheek's healthful glow, the eye of fire,
+The martial mein, proud gait, and limbs Herculean!
+Oh! is that deathlike form indeed Orsino?
+
+_Orsi._ Never to see them more! never, no never!
+Wife, child, joy, hope, all gone!
+
+_Alfon._ That voice! Oh! Heaven,
+Too well I know that voice!--How grief has changed him!
+I'll speak, yet dread----Retire [Inis, _&c. withdraw_.] Look up Orsino.
+
+_Orsi._ Discovered?
+
+[_Seizing a lance which rests against the cavern, and putting himself in
+a posture of defence_]
+
+Wretch, thy life--[_Staggering back._] Strengthen me, heaven!
+'Tis he? the king himself!
+
+_Alfon._ [_Offering to take his hand._]
+Thy friend!
+
+_Orsi._ [_Recovering himself, and drawing back his hand._]
+Friend! Friend!----
+I've none!--        [_Coldly._]
+
+_Alfon._ Orsino.
+
+_Orsi._ Never had but one,
+And he--! Sir, though a king, you'd shrink to hear
+How that friend used me!
+
+_Alfon._ Hear me speak, in pity!
+
+_Orsi._ What need of words? I'm found, I'm in your power,
+And you may torture me e'en how you list.
+Where are your chains? these are the self-same arms
+Which bore them ten long years, nor doubt their weighing
+Heavy as ever! These same eyes, which bathed
+So oft with bitterest tears your dungeon-grate,
+Have streams not yet exhausted! and these lips
+Can still with shrieks make the Black Tower re-echo,
+Which heard my voice so long in frantic anguish
+Rave of my wife and child, and curse Alfonso!
+Lead on, Sir! I'm your prisoner!
+
+_Alfon._ Not for worlds
+Would I but harm one hair of thine!--Nay, hear me!
+And learn, most wronged Orsino, thy clear innocence
+Is now well known to all.
+
+_Orsi._ Ay? Nay, I care not
+Who thinks me innocent! I know myself so--
+Was this your business, Sir? 'Tis done! Farewell.
+
+_Alfon._ Oh! part not from me thus! I fain would say----
+
+_Orsi._ What?
+
+_Alfon._ I have wronged thee!----
+
+_Orsi._ [_Sternly_] True!
+
+_Alfon._ Deeply, most deeply!
+But wounding thine, hurt my own heart no less,
+Where none has filled thy place: 'tis thine, still thine--
+And if my court----
+
+_Orsi._ What should I there? No, no, Sir!
+Sorrow has crazed my wits; long cramped by fetters
+My arm sinks powerless; and my wasted limbs,
+Palsied by dungeon-damps, would bend and totter
+Beneath yon armour's weight, once borne so lightly!
+Then what should I at court? I cannot head
+Your troops, nor guide your councils; leave me, leave me,
+You cannot use me further!
+
+_Alfon._ Oh! I must,
+And to a most dear service--my heart bleeds,
+And needs a friend! Be but that friend once more!
+Be to me what thou wert, (and that was all things!)
+Forgive my faults, forget thy injuries----
+
+_Orsi._ [_Passionately._] Never!
+
+_Alfon._ That to Alfonso? That to him whose friendship----
+
+_Orsi._ Peace, peace! You felt no friendship! felt no flame,
+Steady and strong!--Yours was a vain light vapour,
+A boyish fancy, a caprice, a habit,
+A bond you wearied of, and gladly seized
+A lame pretext to break. Did not my heart
+From earliest youth lie naked to your eyes?
+Knew you not every comer, nerve, turn, twist on't?
+And could you still suspect----? No, no! You wished
+To find me false, or must have known me true.
+
+_Alfon._ You wrong me, on my life! So fine, so skilful
+The snare was spread----I knew not----
+
+_Orsi._ Knew not? Knew not?
+Thou knew'st I was Orsino! Knowing that,
+Thou should'st have known, I never could be guilty.
+
+_Alfon._ Proofs seemed so strong----
+
+_Orsi._ And had I none to prove
+My innocence? these deep-hewn scars received
+While fighting in your cause, were these no proofs?
+Your life twice saved by me! your very breath
+My gift! your crown oft rescued by my valour!
+Were these no proofs! My every word, thought, action,
+My spotless life, my rank, my pride, my honour,
+And, more than all, the love I ever bore thee,
+Were these no proofs?--Oh! they had been conviction
+In a friend's eyes, though they were none in thine!
+
+_Alfon._ Your pride? 'twas that undid me! your reserve,
+Your silence----
+
+_Orsi._ What! Should I have stooped to chase
+Your brawling lawyers through their flaws and quibbles?
+To bear the sneers of saucy questioners--
+Their jests, their lies--and, when they termed me villain,
+Calmly to cry--"Good Sirs, I'm none!"--No, no:
+I heard myself called traitor--saw you calmly
+Hear me so called, nor strike the speaker dead!
+Then why defend myself? What hope was left me?
+Truth lost its value, since you thought me false!
+Speech had been vain, since your heart spoke not for me.
+
+_Alfon._ And it _did_ speak----Spite of the law's decision,
+My love preserved your life----
+
+_Orsi._ Oh! bounteous favour!
+Oh! vast munificence! which, giving life,
+Robbed me of every gem which made life precious!
+Where is my wife? Distracted at my loss,
+Sunk to her cold grave with a broken heart?
+Where is my son? Or dead through want, or wandering
+A friendless outcast! Where that health, that vigour,
+Those iron nerves, once mine?--King, ask your dungeons!
+
+_Alfon._ Oh! spare me!
+
+_Orsi._ Give me these again, wife, son,
+Health, strength, and ten most precious years of manhood,
+And I'll perhaps forgive thee: till then, never!
+
+_Alfon._ What could I do? thy son had been to me
+Dear as my own, had not Victoria's pride,
+Scorning all aid----
+
+_Orsi._ 'Twas right!
+
+_Alfon._ She fled, concealed
+Herself and child----had it on me depended----
+I cannot speak----My heart----Oh! yet have mercy,
+Think I had other duties than a friend's----
+Alas! I was a king!
+
+_Orsi._ And are one still----
+Have still your wealth, and pomp, and pride, and power,
+And herd of cringing courtiers--still have children----
+I had but one, and him I lost through thee.
+I, I have nothing! Yon rude cave my palace,
+These rocks my court, the wolf my fit companion--
+Lost all life's blessings, wife, son, health! Oh! nothing
+Is left me, save the right to hate that man
+Who made me what I am!--And would'st thou rob me
+E'en of this last poor pleasure? Go Sir! go,
+Regain your court; resume your pomp and splendour!
+Drink deep of luxury's cup! be gay, be flattered,
+Pampered and proud, and, if thou canst, be happy.
+I'll to my cave, and curse thee!
+
+_Alfon._ Stay, Orsino!
+If ever friendship warmed, or pity melted
+Thy heart, I charge thee----
+
+_Orsi._ Pity? In thy dungeons,
+Sir, I forgot the meaning of that word.
+For ten long years no gentle accents soothed me,
+No tears with mine were mixed--no bosom sighed
+That anguish tortured mine! King, king, thou know'st not,
+How solitude makes the soul stern and savage!
+
+_Alfon._ Yet were thy soul than adamantine rocks
+More hard, these deep-drawn sighs----
+
+_Orsi._ My wife's last groan
+Rings in my ear, and drowns them.
+
+_Alfon._ And these tears
+Might touch thy heart----
+
+_Orsi._ My heart is dead, King! dead!
+'Tis yonder buried in Victoria's Grave!
+
+_Alfon._ Could prayers, unfeigned remorse, ceaseless affection,
+And influence as my own unbounded----
+
+_Orsi._ Hold!
+I'll try thee, and make two demands! But first,
+Swear by all hopes of happiness hereafter,
+And Heaven's best gift on earth, thine angel-daughter,
+Whate'er I ask shall be fulfilled.
+
+_Alfon._ I swear!
+And Heaven so treat my prayers, as I shall thine.
+
+_Orsi._ 'Tis well: now mark, and keep thine oath. My first
+Request is--Leave me instantly! my second,
+Ne'er let me see thee more.--Thou hast heard, begone!   [_Exit into the cave._
+
+_Alfon._ 'Tis well, proud man,--Alas! my heart's too humbled
+To chide e'en him who spurns it.
+
+_Inis._ Nay my liege,
+Despair not----Sure the princess.
+
+_Alfon._ Right, I'll seek her;
+To her he owes his freedom, and her prayers
+Shall win me back this dear obdurate heart
+Oh! did he know how sweet 'tis to forgive,
+And raise the wounded soul, which, crushed and humbled
+Sinks in the dust, and owns that it has erred:
+To quench all wrath, and cancel all offences,
+Sure he would need no motive but self love.
+
+[_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.----_A garden._
+
+_Amel._ [_Alone_] And are ye all then vanished, sylphs of bliss?
+All fled in air, and not one trace, one shadow
+Left of my bright day-visions? Is not rather
+All this some fearful dream?----Caesario false!
+I _know_ 'tis so, yet scarce can _think_ 'tis so!
+Gods! when last night, after long absence meeting,
+What looks!--what joy!--and was then all deceit?
+Did he but mock me, when with tears of rapture
+He bathed my hand; knelt; sighed; as had his voice
+By pleasure been o'erwhelmed, a while was silent;
+But soon came words, sweet as those most sweet kisses
+Which grateful Venus gave the swain whose care
+Brought back her truant doves!----So sweet, so sweet----
+Distrust, herself, must have believed those words.
+Oh! and was all but feigned?
+
+_Enter_ Caesario _and_ Estella.
+
+_Estella._ Wait here awhile;
+I'll try to sooth her.
+
+_Caesa._ My best friend!
+
+_Estel._ Withdraw      [Caesario _retires_.
+Still bathed in tears?
+
+_Amel._ [_Throwing herself on her bosom._] Oh! my soul's sick,
+Estella.
+My heart is broken, broken!
+
+_Estel._ Nay, be calm!
+I bring you comfort.
+
+_Amel._ How?
+
+_Estel._ Caesario sues
+For one short moment's audience.
+
+_Amel._ I'll not see him.
+
+_Estel._ Dear princess!
+
+_Amel._ Never! saw I not Ottilia
+Decked with my gift? did I not hear.----Shame! shame!
+Go, go, Estella, see him! say, and firmly,
+We meet no more! say, that the veil is rent!
+Say, that I know him wavering, vain, ungrateful,
+Flattering and false! and having said this, add,
+False as he is, he's my soul's tyrant still!
+
+_Caesa._ [_Throwing himself at her feet_] Accents of Heaven!--my life! my love!
+
+_Amel._ Caesario?
+Farewell forever!
+
+_Caesa._ Nay you must not leave me.
+Hear me but speak.----
+
+_Amel._ Release me!
+
+_Caesa._ But one word.--
+
+_Amel._ I'll not be held!--Your pardon. I forgot sir!
+I thought myself still mistress of my actions!
+Still princess of Castile!--Now I remember
+I'm that despised, unhappy thing, your wife!
+Sir, I obey!--Your pleasure!
+
+_Caesa._ Oh! how lovely
+Those eyes can make e'en scorn! yet calm their lightnings--
+Once more let love.--
+
+_Amel._ Never--the hours are past
+When I believed thee all my fond heart wished;
+Thought thee the best, the kindest, truest----thought thee----
+Oh! Heaven! no Eastern tale portrays the palace
+Of fay, or wizard (where in bright confusion
+Blaze gold and gems) so glorious fair, as seemed,
+Tricked in the rainbow-colours of my fancy,
+Caesario's form this morn:----Too late I know thee;
+The spell is broke; and where an Houri smiled,
+Now scowls a fiend. Oh! thus benighted pilgrims
+Admire the glow-worm's light, while gloom prevails
+But find that seeming lamp of fiery lustre
+A poor dark worthless worm, when viewed in sunshine.
+Away, and seek Ottilia.
+
+_Caesa._ Oh! my princess,
+Deep as thy anger wounds my heart, more deeply
+I grieve to think, how thine will bleed at finding
+This anger undeserved.
+
+_Amel._ Oh! that it were _so_,
+But no! I saw my scarf----that very scarf----
+My own hands wrought it.----Many a midnight lamp,
+While thou wert at the wars, in toil I wasted,
+And made it my sole joy to toil for thee,
+There was no thread I had not blest! no flower
+I had not kist a thousand times, and murmured
+With every kiss a prayer for thy return,
+And yet thou gav'st this sacred work to buy
+A wanton's favours.----
+
+_Caesa._ Say, to buy her silence?
+
+_Amel._ Her silence?
+
+_Caesa._ As this morn I left the palace,
+She marked my flight.
+
+_Amel._ Just heaven!
+
+_Caesa._ Though unrequited,
+Her love has long been mine.--She raved; she threatened;
+She would have vengeance; she would rouse the guards;
+Alarm the king.----
+
+_Amel._ [_Shuddering._] My father!
+
+_Caesa._ But her silence
+Bought by that scarf.--
+
+_Amel._ Caesario, could I trust thee?
+Were this tale true, could I but think.--
+
+_Caesa._ I'll swear.
+
+_Amel._ No! at the altar thou hast sworn already
+Mine were thy hand and heart, and mine forever:
+If thou canst break this oath, none else will bind thee----
+Yet did I wrong thee? art thou true? I fain
+Would think thee so.----But this fond heart, my husband,
+Is such a weak sad thing and where it loves,
+Loves so devoutly----Spare me, dear Caesario,
+Such fears in future; let no word, no thought,
+Cloud thy pure faith, for so my soul dotes on thee,
+But to suspect thee racks each nerve, and almost
+Drives my brain mad,--Oh! could'st thou know, Caesario,
+How painful 'tis for one who loves like me,
+To _cease_ to love----Cease, said I?----No, my heart
+Ceased to esteem, but never ceased to love thee.
+
+[_Falling on his neck._]
+
+_Caesa._ My soul! my Amelrosa,--Now all planets
+Rain plagues upon my perjured head, if e'er
+I break the vow, which here I breathe; this heart,
+Filled but with thee, and formed but to adore thee,
+Is thine, my love, thine now, and thine forever!
+
+_Amel._ Hark!--steps approach----Estella?
+
+_Estel._ [_who has retired, advances hastily._]
+Haste, Caesario,
+You must away! the king's returned, I see
+His train now loitering near the garden-gate,
+Fly by the private postern.
+
+_Caesa._ Straight I'll follow.      [_Exit_ Estella.
+And must I leave thee, leave thee for so long too?
+The king's affairs now call me far from Burgos,
+And ere we meet again twelve hours must pass.
+
+_Amel._ Ah! me, to love, an age.
+
+_Caesa._ Yet should I leave thee
+With calmer soul, nor feel such pain in absence,
+Were I but sure one wish----
+
+_Amel._ [_Eagerly._] Oh! name it, name it,
+But ask me nothing light in action: ask me
+Something strange, hard, and painful: Something, such
+As none would dare to do but one who loves.
+Name, name this blessed wish.
+
+_Caesa._'Tis this--From midnight,
+Till my return, avoid the royal tower.
+
+_Amel._ I promise; yet what reason----
+
+_Caesa._ When we meet
+Thou shalt know all; till then forgive my silence:
+Seal with a kiss thy promise, then farewell.
+
+[_Here_ Alfonso _advances in silence; his eyes are fixed on his
+daughter, his hands are folded, and his whole appearance expresses the
+utmost dejection._]
+
+_Amel._ Farewell, since it must be farewell----But mark,
+See not Ottilia ere you go.
+
+_Caesa._ I will not.
+
+_Amel._ And when the bell's deep tongue announces midnight,
+Breathe thou my name, for at that hour, my love,
+I'll think on thee.--That hour! Oh, fool! as if
+Hours could be found in which I think not on thee.
+And must thou go?--Nay, if thou must, away,
+Or I shall bid thee stay, and stay forever.
+Farewell my husband!
+
+_Caesa._ My soul's joy, farewell!
+
+_Amel._ Oh! pain of parting!
+
+[_Turning round, her eye rests on_ Alfonso. _She starts, and remains as
+petrified with terror. After a pause, he passes her in silence; but, on
+his reaching the door, she rushes towards him, her hands clasped in
+supplication._]
+
+Father!
+
+[Alfonso _motions to forbid her following, and goes off_.]
+
+_Amel._ Oh! I'm lost! [_She falls senseless on the ground._]
+
+_End of Act II._
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I.----_A chamber in the palace._
+
+_Enter_ Ottilia _and_ Inis.
+
+_Otti._ Was it so sudden?--What, no cause assigned,
+And so severe a shock too?--Trust me, Inis,
+Thy tale alarms me.
+
+_Inis._ On the earth we found her
+Senseless and cold: we raised and bore her hither,
+Where she revived only to sigh and sorrow,
+Wring her fair hands, and shriek her father's name.
+
+_Otti._ 'Tis wondrous strange,--Mourning my own afflictions,
+This rumour reached me; straight all else forgotten,
+Hither by love and duty urged I sped,
+Nor come I trust in vain,----this phial holds
+Drops of most precious power.--Good Inis take it,
+And in your lady's drink infuse this liquid:
+My life upon her cure.
+
+_Inis._ Obedience best
+Will speak my thanks, nor doubt----Lo, where approaches
+My lady's ghostly father, holy Bazil.
+
+_Enter Father_ Bazil.
+
+_Bazil._ Pardon that rudely thus I break your parley,
+But from the king I come, to bid the Infanta
+Attend him here.----Good Inis lead me to her.
+
+_Inis._ Here lies our way--Again I thank you, lady;
+Ere night I'll use your gift.      [_Exit with_ Bazil.
+
+_Otti._ And if thou dost,
+Go ring a funeral knel, and get thee mourning,
+And gather flowers to strew thy lady's grave:
+Thou'lt gather none so sweet as that I wither,
+--Hark! 'twas her voice.----How at the sound seemed ice
+To seize my every vein!--My victim comes!
+--I cannot bear her sight!--So young to die!
+So young, so fair, so gentle, and so good!
+With such an angel's life, and my soul's quiet--
+Oh, God! Caesario, thou art purchased dearly.
+
+[_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ Amelrosa, Bazil, Estella, Inis, _and attendants_.
+
+_Bazil._ No passion flushed his cheek; his voice, his manner,
+Though solemn were not stern; and when he named you,
+A tear gushed forth, ere he could turn him from me.
+Then droop not thus, nor doubt paternal love.--
+
+_Amel._ Oh! 'tis that love distracts me, for his love
+Was love so great! 'Twas but this morn he termed me
+The only tie which chained him still to life!
+And I have broke that tie!
+
+_Bazil._ Nay, gentle princess!
+
+_Amel._ Perhaps have broke his heart too! from his lips
+Have dashed joy's last poor lingering drop, and shown him,
+His only prop was frail as all the former!
+Could I but think he felt like common parents,
+That when he found my fault, affection died,
+Then I were blest! then I alone should suffer,
+And when his hatred broke my heart, could seek
+Some lone sad place, and lay me down and die!
+Alas! alas! I know I was his darling!
+Know by the joy I gave him once, too well
+How sharp the grief must be, I cause him now!
+
+_Bazil._ That partial love which cherished thus your virtues,
+Will now absolve your fault.
+
+_Amel._ But when he frowns?
+I ne'er yet saw him frown,--but sure he's dreadful!
+Oh! ere I meet those eyes (which yet ne'er viewed me
+But their kind language spoke uncounted blessings)
+And find them dark with gloom, and dread with lightnings,
+Closed be my own in death!--Hark! hark! he comes
+In all his terrors, comes to spurn and drive me
+For ever from his sight.--His frown will kill me!
+Shield me, Estella, shield me!
+
+Alfonso _enters, followed by_ Ricardo _and courtiers_.
+
+_Alfon._ [_Aside, looking at_ Amelrosa.] Can it be!
+Can she too have deceived--!--Retire awhile.
+
+[_Exeunt_ Estella, &c.
+
+_Manent_ Alfonso _and_ Amelrosa.
+
+_Amel._ [_Advancing with timidity, then rushing
+forward and falling prostrate at his feet._] My father?--Oh! my father.
+
+_Alfon._ Rise!
+Nay rise: what fears't thou? Wherefore weep, and tremble?
+_Thou_ hast no cause for grief! The poisoned arrow
+Has pierced no heart but mine! These eyes alone
+Need weep for what they've seen! _Thou_ hast not felt
+What 'tis to lose all faith in man! to see
+Joy and hope die together; and to find,
+When all thy soul loved best hung on thy neck,
+Each kiss was false, and each sweet smile was hollow!
+Well! well! 'Tis past grief's curing! wondrous bitter,
+But must be borne! a few short months, and then
+The grave mends all.
+
+_Amel._ [_Aside._] Pangs of the dying sinner,
+Are ye more sharp than mine!
+
+_Alfon._ More tears?--Perhaps
+You tremble, lest my regal wrath should crush
+The audacious slave who stole his sovereign's daughter?
+No, princess, no! I can excuse the youth,
+Nor look from mortals for divine forbearance.
+A fairer fruit than ever dragon guarded,
+Courting his hand and hung within his grasp,
+He could not choose but pluck it.
+
+_Amel._ Oh! I would
+My heart would spring before thine eyes, and show thee
+Each word thou utter'st, written there in blood!
+That it could speak----!
+
+_Alfon._ What could it say? but plead
+The youth's fair form, high fame, and great acquirements!
+Gratitude that from ruffian hands he saved thee,
+Feelings too fond, and thus excuse thy love!
+But could it e'er excuse thy long dissembling,
+Thy seeming confidence, thy vows all broken,
+Thy arts to lull me in a blissful dream,
+From which the waking's dreadful! Why deceive me?
+Why hide as from a foe thy thoughts from me?
+Why banish me thy bosom? didst thou fear me?
+Didst fear my power, my pride, my wrath? Oh! was I--
+Was I so harsh a father, Amelrosa?
+
+_Amel._ [_Aside._] Heart, sure thy strings are
+steel, or they would break!
+
+_Alfon._ Yet 'Tis deserved? I was too fond! too partial!
+Still loved thee better than my son, whose heart
+Perhaps this partial love has turned against me--
+If so, my pain is just!--Daughter I'll chide
+No more; nor came I here to chide, but bless thee,
+This parchment gives thy lord Medina's dukedom,
+With all its fair domains; the dowry promised,
+When my fond bosom hoped that princely Arragon----
+But that's now passed!--Take it--farewell--be happy----
+We meet no more!
+
+_Amel._ [_Covering her face with her hands_] Oh? heaven!
+
+_Alfon._ 'Twere vain, 'twere cruel,
+To make thee toil to fan thy love's faint embers,
+Since faith is dead; and though I still doat on thee,
+I'll trust no more--Thy choice is made, and may
+That choice prove all thy fondest dreams e'er pictured!
+Blest be thy days as the first man's in Eden,
+Before sin was! Be thy brave lord's affection
+Firm as his valour, lovely as thy form!
+And shouldst thou ever know, with thy whole soul
+What 'tis to love a child, and hold it dearer
+Than freedom, light, or life--Oh may that darling
+Show thee more faith than thou hast shown to me.
+I've done--Have there the deed--Farewell!
+
+_Amel._ [_Grasping the hand which he extends
+with the parchment, and pressing it to her lips._] Have mercy!
+
+_Alfon._ Mercy?--On whom?
+
+_Amel._ An humbled, breaking heart,
+But which, though breaking, loves thee dearly, dearly!
+Throw me not from thee!
+
+_Alfon._ Hast not all thy wishes?
+Thy husband's pardon, honour, wealth, and freedom,
+To live with whom, and how, and where thou wilt?
+What wouldst thou more?
+
+_Amel._ That, without which all these
+Are nothing, and each seeming grace true curses!
+Thy heart! thy heart my father! Give me that!
+Thy whole, whole heart, such as I once possessed it,
+Soft--kind--indulgent--open--feeling--fond!
+'Tis this I ask,--or, this denied, to die.
+Yes! strike me at your foot; spurn, trample, crush me!
+Twist in my streaming locks your hand, and drag me,
+Till from my wounded bosom streams of blood
+Gush forth, and dye the marble red!--All this
+Were far less anguish to a _generous_ soul,
+Than this so torturing love, so cruel kindness!
+
+_Alfon._ I will not hear----
+
+_Amel._ Oh! leave me not, my father,
+Nor bid me leave thee! Let my anguish move thee;
+Let not, though great, a single error lose me
+The fruits of twenty years pass'd in thy service,
+Which in thy service pass'd seemed short as moments.
+
+_Alfon._ It must not be--
+
+_Amel._ You would, but cannot hide it;
+I still am dear! Each look, each feature speaks it,
+Speaks to a softening heart--Oh! hear its pleading,
+And bid me stay! I'll only stay to love thee!
+Look on me! mark my altered form! observe
+The strong convulsions of my gasping bosom!
+See my wan cheeks, eyes swoln, lips trembling! feel
+How scalding are the tears with which I dew
+This dear, dear hand! Judge by thy own _my_ sufferings,
+And bid me cease to suffer; when with force,
+Such as despair alone can give, and louder
+Than fiends implore from their volcanic prisons
+The Arch-angel's grace, I cry to thee--"Have mercy."--
+
+_Alfon._ My child--No, no!--'Twere weakness--
+
+_Amel._ Weakness, say'st thou?
+Oh! glorious fault! Oh! fair defect!--Oh! weakness
+Passing all strength! If to forgive be sin,
+How deeply then must Heaven have sinned to man!
+Oh! be thy faults like Heaven's! Relent, my father!
+Pardon--! Oh! speak that word!
+
+_Alfon._ My heart! my heart!
+My bursting heart!
+
+_Amel._ That word, that blessed word,
+So quickly said, so easy, as 'twere magic
+Breaks sorrow's spell and bids her phantoms fly!
+That word, that word, that one, one little word.
+And I am blest!----
+
+_Alfonso._ [_Yielding to his emotions, and clasping
+her eagerly to his bosom._] Be blest then! _Exit._
+
+_Amel._ Now, ye stars,
+Which nightly grace the sky, if ye love goodness
+Pour dews celestial from your golden vials
+On yon dear gracious head!--Oh why is now
+My husband absent? Lend thy doves dear Venus,
+That I may send them where Caesario strays;
+And while he smoothes their silver wings, and gives them
+For drink the honey of his lips, I'll bid them
+Coo in his ear, his Amelrosa's happy!
+Joy, joy, my soul! Bound, my gay dancing heart!
+Waft me, ye winds! To bear so blest a creature
+Earth is not worthy! Loved by those I love,
+I've all my soul e'er wished, my hopes e'er fancied,
+My father's friendship, and Caesario's heart!
+Leave me but these, and, fortune I defy thee! [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II. _The forest as before._
+
+_Enter_ Caesario _and_ Henriquez.
+
+_Caesa._ He spurned him, Marquis, spurned him! With such scorn,
+Such genuine ardent hate, repaid his soothing--
+Oh! by that hate I feel, the blood which fills
+These veins is right Orsino's!
+
+_Hen._ 'Tis reported,
+The king shed tears.
+
+_Caesa._ Marquis, he wept, fawned, pleaded
+Remorse, and sued for pardon, with such fervour,
+As starving souls for bread!
+
+_Hen._ Did not at this
+Orsino's ire melt?
+
+_Caesa._ Melt? Like yon fortress rock,
+(Which rears his tower-clad front above the billows,
+Nor heeds the winds that blow, nor rains that beat)
+Proof against tears, and deaf to all entreaties,
+Unmoved the stern one stood, and frowned his answer.
+Oh! fear not, friend: like me he loaths Alfonso,
+And, when I place revenge within his grasping,
+Will spring to reach it.
+
+_Hen._ 'Tis past doubt, his aid
+Were to our cause a tower of strength; yet still
+I fear, lest----Some one leaves the cave!--'Tis he!
+I'll wait beneath yon limes.      [_Exit._
+
+Orsino _enters from the cave_.
+
+_Caesa._ Now by my life
+A noble ruin!
+
+_Orsi._ I return to Burgos?
+For what? To show my scars and hear court ladies
+Rail at the wars for making men so hideous?
+To bear the coxcomb's sneer, the minion's fawning,
+And see fools sweetly smile at my good fortune,
+Who, when my death was signed, smiled full as sweetly?
+No, no, I'll none on't. [_Seeing_ Caesario.]
+Plagues and fiends! another!
+More gold and silk; more musk, fair words, and lying!
+Will these court flies ne'er cease to buz around me?
+Well, sir, what seek ye here?
+
+_Caesa._ Revenge.
+
+_Orsi._ Indeed!
+On whom?
+
+_Caesa._ On lawless power. Ask ye for what?
+A father's wrongs and mother's murder!
+
+_Orsi._ (_starting._) How!
+That voice--Let me look on thee well--Those lips,
+Those eyes--Oh Heaven! those eyes, too! I ne'er saw
+But one have eyes like thine, an earthly angel,
+And with the angels now. Fair youth, who art thou?
+
+_Caesa._ Speaks not thy heart?
+
+_Orsi._ It does, youth, Oh! It does;
+But I'll not trust it; for if false its whispers
+So sweet, so painful sweet--Dear good youth tell me,
+Spare a poor broken heart, and tell me quickly
+Thy father's name.
+
+_Caesa._ My father! Oh! that was
+A man indeed, and model for all others!
+His country's sword, his country's shield, a hero,
+A demigod; and great as were his actions,
+So were his wrongs.
+
+_Orsi._ His name! his name!
+
+_Caesa._ (_rushing into his arms_) Orsino!
+
+_Orsi._ I have him! hold him here! Death alone parts us.
+My son! Victoria's son! Come, come, my boy,
+Kneel at this tomb with me; join thou my suit
+For the blest dust beneath, and read through tears
+Here sleeps thy mother. Wandering forth to seek her,
+Unknown her fate and thine, chance led me hither.
+I marked yon tablet, read yon piteous lines,
+Threw those now useless arms forever from me,
+Sank on Victoria's grave, nor left it more;
+Yet, yet I died not! Amelrosa's kindness,
+Which gave me freedom, traced me to this spot,
+And saved my life, my wretched life, which still
+I only use to mourn thy loss, Victoria.
+Know'st thou, my boy, when her eyes closed forever?
+Whose hand----
+
+_Caesa._ Her son's--
+
+_Orsi._ (_grasping_ Caesario's _hand_) Was't thine?
+
+_Caesa._ 'Twas mine too raised
+Yon rustic tomb, and 'twas this cave received her
+When, desperate at your loss, she fled the court.
+Here long she sorrowed, here at length she died,
+Died of a broken heart! Ay weep, my father;
+For know the king shall pay each tear thou shed'st
+With drops of blood.
+
+_Orsi._ The king? Boy, name him not.
+That sound is poison. I was once so happy;
+Was once so rich--and that one man stole all.
+My curse be on him!
+
+_Caesa._ Man, thy curse is heard.
+
+_Orsi._ Is heard! What mean'st thou?
+
+_Caesa._ Vengeance! Hark, Orsino--
+Soon as my mother died (believed Caesario
+A young unknown) I sought the court, where chance
+Gave me from ruffian Moors to save the princess.
+This made Alfonso mine, and still I've used him
+To further mine own ends. Joy, joy, my father!
+My plots are ripe, the king's best troops corrupted,
+His son, too, through my arts, declared a rebel;
+And, ere two nights are past, I'll strip the tyrant
+Both of his throne and life. Rouse then, and aid
+----Now, sir, why gaze you thus?
+
+_Orsi._ I fain would doubt it;
+Fain find some plea--No, no, each look, each feature,
+And my own heart----'Tis true thou art my son!
+
+_Caesa._ What mean you?
+
+_Orsi._ (_passionately_) Art my son, and yet a villain!
+
+_Caesa._ (_starting_) Villain!
+
+_Orsi._ Destroy Alfonso! What! Alfonso,
+The wise, the good?
+
+_Caesa._ With thee then was he either?
+Has he not wronged thee?
+
+_Orsi._ Deeply, boy, most deeply.
+But in his whole wide kingdom none but me.
+Look through Castile; see all smile, bloom, and flourish.
+No peasant sleeps ere he has breathed a blessing
+On his good king; no thirst of power, false pride,
+Or martial rage he knows; nor would he shed
+One drop of subject-blood to buy the title
+Of a new Mars! E'en broken hearted widows
+And childless mothers, while they weep the slain,
+Cursing the wars, confess his cause was just.
+Such is Alfonso, such the man whose virtues
+Now fill thy throne, Castile, to bliss thy children!
+What shows the adverse scale! What find we there?
+_My_ sufferings, mine alone! And what am _I_,
+That I should weigh me 'gainst the public welfare?
+What are my wrongs against a monarch's rights?
+What is my curse against a nation's blessings?
+
+_Caesa._ Yet hear me.
+
+_Orsi._ I assist your plots! I injure
+One hair that's nourished with Alfonso's blood!
+No! The wronged subject hates the ungrateful master;
+But the world's friend must love the patriot king.
+
+_Caesa._ Amazement! Can it be Orsino speaking?
+'Tis some court minion sure, some tool of office,
+Some threadbare muse pensioned to praise the throne;
+This cannot be the man whose burning vengeance,
+Whose fixed aversion----
+
+_Or._ Boy, 'Tis fixed as ever.
+Alfonso's sight, his name, his very goodness,
+Forcing my praise, torture my soul to madness.
+I hate him, hate him; but still own his virtues;
+And though I hate, Oh bless the good king, Heaven!
+
+_Caesa._ Oh most strange patience! most rare stretch of temper!
+What! bless the man who thought you treacherous, base,
+Ungrateful!
+
+_Orsi._ And because he thought me such,
+(Remembering only what his fault deserves,
+Forgetting all that's due to mine own honour)
+Shall I become the wretched thing he thought me?
+Prove his suspicions just? quit the proud station
+Where injured Virtue towers and sink me down to
+His level who oppressed me? Oh, not so!
+When hostile arms strain every nerve to crush me,
+Pang follows pang, and wrong to wrong succeeds,
+Piled like the Alps, each loftier than the last one,
+To pay those wrongs with good, those pangs with kindness,
+To raise the foe once fallen, bind his gored breast,
+And heap, with generous zeal, favours on favours,
+Till his repentant spirit melts and bleeds
+To think he ever pained a heart like mine,
+Such is _my_ hate! such my proud soul's whole object.
+The only vengeance noble minds should take.
+
+_Caesa._ Farewell, then, since far other hate is mine,
+And asks for other vengeance. I'll to seek it.
+
+_Orsi._ Stay, youth, and hear me. Ere you quit this spot.
+Since virtue has no power to chain or awe thee,
+Swear to forgo thy traitorous schemes, or straight
+I'll seek the king----
+
+_Caesa._ You dare not: no, you dare not.
+Nay, start not. I but know my power and use it.
+Look on these lips and eyes; they are Victoria's.
+And shall Victoria's lips be sealed forever?
+And shall Victoria's eyes be closed in death?
+E'en while you rage, with looks so fond you eye me,
+They speak, your love will guaranty your silence.
+
+_Orsi._ 'Tis true, too true: but dear and cruel boy,
+Though threats succeed not, let these tears prevail,
+Tears for thy dying virtue. Oh look round thee!
+See to mankind what curses bad kings are,
+And learn from them the blessings of a good one.
+
+_Caesa._ Father, in vain you urge me. Know I've sworn
+Alfonso's death. My mother's shade demands it.
+Who asked that promise, with an oath confirmed.
+And what she asked I gave.
+
+_Orsi._ Oh! Wherefore did'st thou?
+Since she required an oath to seal thy promise,
+Thou shouldst have known thy promise must be wrong.
+Virtue and truth are in themselves convincing,
+Nor need the feeble sanction of man's lips;
+As the sun needs no aid from foreign orbs,
+Itself a fire-formed world of light and glory.
+What meant thine oath? What meant those magic words?
+Save by thy lips to bind thy hand to do
+What makes each wise head shake, each good heart shudder.
+Thy impious vow----
+
+_Caesa._ Impious or just, once sworn,
+To break it sure were shame.
+
+_Orsi._ My son, 'twere virtue,
+When to perform it were the worst of crimes,
+'Twas wrong to swear; be with that wrong contented.
+A second fault cannot make right the first;
+And acts of guilt absolve no act of folly.
+
+_Caesa._ Guilt! Then we jar for words. I see but glory
+Where thou seest guilt: yet call it what thou wilt.
+I _may_ be guilty, but I _must_ be great.
+
+_Orsi._ A dreadful word!
+
+_Caesa._ A crown, a crown invites me!
+A glorious crown!
+
+_Orsi._ Glorious! Oh no! True glory
+Is not to _wear_ a crown but to _deserve_ one.
+The peasant swain who leads a good man's life,
+And dies at last a good man's death, obtains
+In Wisdom's eye wreaths of far brighter splendour
+Than he whose wanton pride and thirst for empire
+Make kings his captives, and lay waste a world.
+
+_Caesa._ And is't not glorious then to bless my country
+By just and gentle ruling; fight her battles;
+Preserve her laws----
+
+_Orsi._ Thou, thou preserve her laws----
+Thou fight her battles! thou--I tell thee, boy,
+The hand which serves its country should be pure.
+Ambition, selfish love, vain lust of power
+Ravage thy head and heart! and would'st thou hold
+The judgment balance with a hand still red
+With royal blood? Would'st thou dare speak a penance
+On guilt, thyself so guilty? Canst thou hope
+Castile will trust her to thee? God forbid!
+Mad is that nation, mad past thought of cure,
+Past chains and dungeons, whips, spare food, and fasting,
+Who yields the immortal man a patriot's name,
+And looks in private vice for public virtue.
+Thou play the patriot's part! Away, away!
+Who _wounds_ his country is the worst of monsters;
+But good men only should _presume_ to _serve_ her.
+Thy guilt once seen----
+
+_Caesa._ And who shall see that guilt
+When wrapt in purple, and the world's eye dazzled
+By the o'erpowering blaze a crown emits?
+What pilgrim, gazing on some awful torrent,
+Thinks through what roads it passed? Let golden fortune
+But smile propitious on my daring crimes,
+And all my crimes are virtues! Mark this, father,
+The world ne'er holds those guilty who succeed.      [_Exit._
+
+_Orsi._ (_alone._) How shall I act? He said within two nights----
+Whate'er is done must be done soon--Oh! how,
+How shall I tread this labyrinth; how contrive
+To save my king, yet not destroy my son?
+The princess! Ha! well thought! It shall be so.
+I'll seek her, and Alfonso's life preserved,
+At once shall pay her kindness for my freedom,
+And buy my son's full pardon. Yes, I'll haste,
+And snatch my sovereign from this gulf of ruin.
+I, I the Atlas of his tottering throne----
+Prosperous I shunned; unhappy, I forgive him;
+He reigned, I scorned his power; he sinks, I'll save him.      [_Exit._
+
+_End of Act III._
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. Amelrosa's _chamber._
+
+Amelrosa _in white robes, crowned with flowers_, Estella, _with a
+letter._
+
+_Amelrosa._ 'Tis strange! At this late hour! In armour say'st thou?
+
+_Estel._ In sable armour; round his neck was slung
+A bugle horn. In courteous guise he prayed me
+Give you this note unseen.
+
+_Amel._ Unseen! How is this?       [_Reading_]
+
+"One, not unknown, requests an immediate
+audience on matters most important. Princess,
+delay not as you value your father's life."
+Not signed! My father's life! Estella say,
+Did he not tell his name?
+
+_Estel._ He said this jewel
+Would speak whence came his letter.
+
+_Amel._ Ha! The ring
+I gave Orsino! Quickly seek yon stranger,
+And charge him meet me at St. Juan's chapel;
+For there to pass the night in grateful prayer,
+E'en now I go----Friend speed thee.
+
+_Amel._ [_Alone_] Doubt and terror----
+My father's life?--And yet, for such a father
+What need I fear? Heaven will defend its own,
+And wings of seraphs shield that king from harm,
+Whose proudest title is--"his people's father,"
+Whose dearest treasure is his people's love!      [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II. _St. Juan's cloisters by moon-light.--On one side a gothic
+chapel._
+
+_Orsi._ [_Alone in black armour._] Yes, this must be the place--
+Estella named,
+St. Juan's shrine, and sure 'tis for the princess
+Yon altar flames--Oh! hallowed vaults, how often
+Ye ring with prayers, which granted would destroy
+The fools who form them! Virgins there request
+Their charms may fire the heart of some gay rake,
+Who proves a wedded curse--There wives ask children,
+And, when they have them, find their vices such
+They mourn their birth--The spendthrift begs some kinsman
+May die, and vows that heaven shall share the spoil--
+While the young soldier prays his sword ere long
+May blush with blood, (and with whose blood he cares not,)
+Swearing, if so his arm may purchase glory,
+He'll pay its price, a thousand human hearts.
+And all these mad, these impious vows are ushered
+With chant of cloistered maids, and swell of organs--
+As could our earthly songs charm Him, who hears
+Seraphs and cherubs wake their harps divine,
+While the blest planets, hymning in their orbits,
+Pour fourth such tones as reached their mortal ears,
+Man would go mad for very extasy.
+Well, well! Such forms are good to force example
+On purblind eyes: but prayer from earth abstracted,
+Breathed in no ear but Heaven's; when lips are silent,
+But the heart speaks full loudly; thanks the music,
+Man's soul the censer, and pure thoughts the incense
+Kindling with grace celestial: that's the worship
+Which suits Him best who, past all prayer and praise,
+Esteems one grateful tear, one heart-drawn blessing,
+Which, thanking God, declares that man is happy.
+--Ha! Gleams of torches gild yon distant aisle!
+
+_Enter Father_ Bazil.
+
+_Bazil._ Stranger, What dost thou here, where now to offer
+Gifts at yon shrine, for wondrous favour shown her,
+The princess hastens? See, she comes: retire?
+
+_Orsi._ Your pardon, reverend father, I obey.
+
+[_Exit_ Orsino.
+
+_A procession enters of nuns and friars with lighted tapers, then
+follow_ Amelrosa, Estella, Inis, _and ladies, carrying offerings_.
+
+_Amel._ I thank ye, holy friends. Now leave me here,
+Where I must watch the live-long night and feed
+Yon sacred lamps, telling each hour my beads,
+And pouring thanks to heaven and good St. Juan.
+Till morn farewell.
+
+_Bazil._ May angels guard thee, daughter,
+Pure as thy thoughts, and join thee in thy prayers.
+
+[_Exeunt._
+
+_Amel._ (_alone_) He is not here. Oh how my bosom throbs
+To know this fearful secret! Sure he cannot
+Have missed the place.
+
+_Orsi._ (_entering_) All's dark again and silent.
+Perhaps her courage failed her, and she's gone.
+If so, what must be done? No, no, a shadow
+Moves on the chapel porch. 'Tis surely she.
+
+_Amel._ Hark! steps! Orsino!
+
+_Orsi._ He.
+
+_Amel._ Oh, good Orsino!
+What brings thee here? Those words, _my father's life_,
+Like spells by witches breathed to raise the dead,
+Filled my heart's circle with a crowd of phantoms,
+Doleful and strange, which groan to be released.
+Thy news! thy news! Oh! speak them in one word,
+And let me know the worst.
+
+_Orsi._ Thy fears though great,
+Are justified by what I have to tell.
+Princess, a plot is formed and ripe for action,
+To spoil thy father of his throne and life.
+
+_Amel._ My father! my good father!
+
+_Orsi_ What can goodness
+And moral duties 'gainst the assaults of passion!
+Those chains, e'en when they seem than diamond harder,
+Soften, calcine, and fall like dust away,
+Touched by the burning finger of ambition.
+
+_Amel._ This vile, vile world! Oh is there one on earth
+So lost to virtue he would harm my father!
+
+_Orsi._ There is, and one most favoured! one who owns
+He long has lived nearest Alfonso's heart;
+His friend, his trusted friend; and yet this traitor,
+This worst of traitors--shame denies me utterance!
+This traitor, princess, is Orsino's son.
+
+_Amel._ Thy son! thy long lost son!
+
+_Orsi._ Long lost, late found,
+And better than found thus if lost forever.
+Go, princess, go; preserve your sire. I lay
+Bound at my sovereign's feet this precious victim.
+Yet, while you paint the son's offence, paint also
+His father's anguish! Plead for him, dear lady,
+Oh! plead for him and save him! since I own,
+Own it with shame, clearer than air or eye-sight
+I love, I doat upon Caesario.
+
+_Amel._ (_starting_) Whom?
+
+_Orsi._ Caesario is his name.
+
+_Amel._ 'Tis not, 'tis not,
+Or, if it be, it means not _that_ Caeesario,
+Not _my_ Caesario! No, no, no!
+
+_Orsi._ A soldier
+Who says he saved thee once----
+
+_Amel._ Peace, death-bell, peace!
+Thou ringst the knel of all my joys!
+
+_Orsi._ What mean'st thou?
+What sudden passion----
+
+_Amel._ Hear me, wretched father!
+This son, now guilty thought, but guiltier far,
+Who knows with what idolatry I dote on
+My father, and yet plots to tear him from me!
+Is one to buy whose barbarous heart I spurned
+All the world prizes, fame, respect, and empire,
+Nay, risked my father's love: this man, this man
+--He is--Oh Heaven!--my husband!
+
+_Orsi._ (_striking his forehead_) Slave! wretch!--fiend----
+And yet Orsino's son!----Alas, poor princess!
+Gav'st thou him all, and rends he all from thee!
+Was he thy love, and would he be thy bane!
+Has he thy heart and stabs it! Now all plagues
+Hell ever forged for demons light----
+
+_Amel._ hold, hold!
+Oh! curse him not; no, save him. Some one comes.
+We shall be marked. This way, and let us study
+How we may rescue best----
+
+_Orsi._ No, let him perish!
+Perish, and seek the flames his guilt deserves.
+The sooner 'tis the better.
+
+_Amel._ Silence, silence!
+Dear friend, this way, be patient. Oh! Caesario,
+And couldst thou have the heart to torture mine!
+
+[_Exeunt._
+
+Caeesario _enters, muffled in his cloak_.
+
+_Caesa._ Not come yet! 'Tis past midnight, and 'twas here
+She bade me join her. Ha! why flame yon lamps?
+Should any loitering monk--no, no, 'tis vacant,
+And all as yet is safe. Fate let this hour
+Be mine, and with the rest do what thou wilt.
+I hear her--to my work then. Why this shivering?
+I would fain spare her.--If she yields to reason
+'Tis well: if not--she's here.
+
+_Enter_ Ottilia.
+
+_Otti._ I find thee punctual.
+'Tis well for thee thou art so. By my life,
+If thou hadst failed me I had sought the king.
+Where is the priest? On to the chapel.
+
+_Caesa._ Stay,
+And hear me! for the hour is come that weighs
+Our fates in the same balance. Thus then briefly,
+Thou art most fair, in wit most choice and subtle,
+In all rare talents still surpassing all,
+And for these gifts, and thy long tried affection,
+I feel I owe thee much, owe thee firm friendship,
+Eternal gratitude, faith, favour, love,
+And all things save my hand. Except but this,
+Which now I must not give, nor couldst thou take,
+And ask what else thou wilt.
+
+_Otti._ Most gracious sir,
+For thy fair praise, and these so liberal offers
+Of granting all save that which I would have,
+Accept my thanks, I've heard thee; now hear me.
+I'll be thy wife or nothing.
+
+_Caesa._ Lady, Lady,
+You know not what you ask.
+
+_Otti._ I know myself
+Worthy of what I ask, and know my power,
+Which you, it seems, forget. Is not my dowry
+Your life and crown? Let me but speak one word,
+And straight your fancied throne becomes a scaffold.
+No more, but to the chapel.
+
+_Caesa._ If to move thee
+Ought would avail----
+
+_Otti._ It cannot.
+
+_Caesa._ Once a king----
+
+_Otti._ I share thy throne.
+
+_Caesa._ 'Mid all Castile's first honours
+Make thou thy choice----
+
+_Otti._ 'Tis made.
+
+_Caesa._ And still remaining
+My friend, my love----
+
+_Otti._ Thy wife, thy wife, or nothing!
+
+_Caesa._ Nay then I'll crush thy frantic hopes at once;
+I'm married.
+
+_Otti._ (_Starting_) What! I hope thou dost but feign;
+For thy sake hope it; since, if true this marriage,
+Thou'rt lost past saving.
+
+_Caesa._ Nay, unbend thy brow,
+Nor stamp nor rave. The princess is my wife,
+And frowns unbind not whom the church hath bound.
+The javelin's thrown, and cannot be recalled;
+Thine be the second prize the first is won,
+And all thy grief and rage that tis another's
+Will but torment thyself. Be wise, be wise,
+And bear with patience what thou canst not cure.
+
+_Otti._ I will not curse: no, I'll not waste in vapour.
+The fire which burns within me. What I feel,
+My deeds shall tell thee best. (_Going._)
+
+_Caesa._ (_detaining her_) Ottilia, stay.
+If yet one spark of love remains----
+
+_Otti._ (_passionately_) of love!
+Of love for thee! Mark me. Ere sets the sun
+My rival dies, and thou once more art free:
+But now so deadly is the hate I bear thee,
+'Twill joy me less to see thee mine than dead.
+Thy blood! thy blood! 'Tis for thy blood I thirst,
+And it shall stream. Farewell.
+
+_Caesa._ Go then, proud woman,
+I brave thy rancour. Ere thou gain'st the palace,
+I'll spring the mine.
+
+_Otti._ Indeed! Now hark awhile,
+Then die for spite, thou base, thou baffled traitor!
+Six trusty slaves wait but my call to bind
+And bear thee to the king. Ay, rage, rage, rage,
+For I'll invent such tortures to despatch thee,
+Such racks, such whips, such baths of boiling sulphur,
+The damned shall think their pains mere mirth and pastime,
+And envying furies own their skill outdone.
+I go to prove my words.
+
+_Caesa._ Thou must not leave me.
+
+_Otti._ Worlds should not bribe my stay.
+
+_Caesa._ Thou'rt in my power.
+
+_Otti._ Thy power! thy power! I brave it! I defy it!
+Scorn both thy power and thee. Unhand me, ruffian!
+I'll not be held. Within there! hasten hither!
+Anthonio! Lopez! Treason? treason!
+
+_Caesa._ Nay then,
+This to thy heart. (_stabbing her._)
+
+_Otti._ Help, help! Oh, vile assassin!
+
+_Enter_ Orsino, _hastily_.
+
+_Orsi._ What clamours----Hold, you pass not.
+
+_Caesa._ Give me way,
+Or else thy life----
+
+_Orsi._ Ruffian defend thine own. [_Exeunt fighting._
+
+_Otti._ [_Alone, leaning against a pillar._] My blood streams fast!
+I'm wounded, deeply wounded!----
+My voice too fails; I cannot call for help.
+To hope for life were vain; but for revenge.----
+Could I but reach the palace----
+[_Advancing a few steps, then sinking on the ground._] 'Twill not be.
+I faint!----Oh, heaven!
+
+_Enter_ Amelrosa.
+
+_Amel._ All's hushed again; how fearful
+After those shrieks appear the midnight calm.
+--Orsino?--Speak, Orsino?--No one answers.
+What can this mean?
+
+_Otti._ Fainter and fainter still----
+And no one comes.----
+
+_Amel._ Hark! 'Twas a groan! whence came it? [_Seeing_ Ottilia.]
+Stranger look up!
+
+_Otti._ A voice! Oh! blessed sound,
+Who'er thou art, mark well my dying words;
+A villain's hand--I'm wounded----
+
+_Amel._ Gracious heaven!
+Oh! let me fly for aid.
+
+_Otti._ All aid were vain.
+Stay, mark! Revenge!--[_Taking a paper from her bosom._]
+This paper--take it--bear it
+Swift to the royal tower--lose not a moment--
+Insist to see the king--take no denial,
+For 'tis of most dear import.
+
+_Amel._ Sure, it must be--?
+Ottilia.
+
+_Otti._ [_Starting up wildly._] Heaven, who speaks? 'Tis she herself:
+My victim, 'tis my victim!--Dost thou live then?
+Hast thou escaped? Spare me, thou God of mercy!
+Oh! spare me this one crime.
+
+_Amel._ What means this passion?
+How wild she eyes me; how she grasps my hand!
+
+_Otti._ Answer and bless me: Say thou didst not drink it!
+Say Inis did not--While I speak, the blood
+Fades from thy cheek! Thine eyes close! Dying pangs
+Distort thy features; pangs like those which shortened
+His life, whose angry ghost, grim, fierce, and ghastly,
+Comes gliding yonder. See his livid finger
+Points to the poisoned cup! He frowns and threatens.
+Pray for me, angel! Pray for me! I dare not.
+
+_Amel._ Alas, poor wretch!
+
+_Otti._ Help! help! The spectre grasps me,
+And folds me to his breast, where the worm feeds!
+He tears my heart-strings!--Now he sinks, he sinks!
+And sinking grasps me still, and drags me down with him,
+A thousand fathom deep!--Oh! lost, lost, lost!
+
+[_Dies._
+
+_Amel._ She's gone.--Sure earth affords no sight more awful,
+Than when a sinner dies--She named the king.--
+Perhaps this writing--By yon favouring lamp
+I'll find its meaning, [_Ascending the chapel steps._
+
+_Enter_ Orsino.
+
+_Orsi._ Aided by night
+The villain has escaped me. [_Seeing_ Amelrosa,
+_who, while reading by the lamp suspended in the
+chapel-porch, expresses the most violent agitation_.]
+Princess,--Ha!
+Why thus alarmed?--[Amelrosa _gives him the paper
+in silence, with a look of agony_.] This paper?--Heaven, what's this?
+[_Reading._
+----"My king, Caesario plots your destruction:
+--A mine is formed in the Claudian vaults, beneath
+the royal Tower, and which the conspirators
+mean to spring this night. This warning
+will enable you to defeat their purpose: Accept
+it as an atonement for the crimes of the dying
+Guzman. The mine is appointed to be sprung
+when the clock strikes one."--      [_The letter falls from his hand._
+
+_Amel._ [_Rushing from the chapel in despair_] One, one!--'Tis that
+already.--Oh! he's lost!
+My father's lost!--Ere we can reach his chamber
+'Twill sink in flames!
+
+_Orsi._ That must be tried--Say, princess,
+How may I gain admittance to the king,
+Nor meet delay?
+
+_Amel._ This signet----[_Giving a ring._]
+
+_Orsi._ 'Tis enough.
+Know you the Claudian vaults?
+
+_Amel._ I do.
+
+_Orsi._ Away then;
+Reach them with speed: cling round Caesario, kneel,
+Weep, threaten, sooth, implore! to rouse his feelings
+Use every art; at least delay his purpose,
+Till thou shalt hear this bugle sound; that signal
+Shall speak Alfonso safe.--Farewell.
+
+_Amel._ Oh! heaven!
+Oh! dreadful hour!
+
+_Orsi._ Take heart: if time allows me,
+I'll save thy father: if too late----
+
+_Amel._ Then, then,
+What wilt thou do?
+
+_Orsi._ What? Plunge into the flames,
+And perish with my king!--Away! away!
+
+[_Exeunt severally._
+
+
+SCENE III.--A cavern.
+
+_Enter_ Melchior _with a lamp, as from an inner cavern_.
+
+_Mel._ Hush!--No, he comes not; sure 'tis near the time.
+A light:--Who's there?--Henriquez.
+
+_Enter_ Henriquez, _lighted by_ Lucio.
+
+_Hen._ Ay, the same.
+
+_Mel._ Now, Lucio, where's thy lord?
+
+_Lucio._ He charged me tell you,
+He would not fail at one.
+
+_Mel._ The rest wait yonder.
+Gomez, Sebastian, Marcos, none are wanting:
+Our chief alone is absent.
+
+_Hen._ He'll not tarry.
+Lead to the inner vault, I'll wait him there.
+
+[_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ Amelrosa.
+
+_Amel._ Those gleams of light: I must be near the place.
+--Voices!--I'll on--Oh! heaven! I can no further.
+--I faint!--I die!      [_Catching at a fragment of
+the cave, against which she leans as stupified.--A
+pause.--The bell strikes one._]
+Hark! the bell gives the signal.
+Oh! for a moment's strength.--Hold, murderers hold!     [_Rushes off._
+
+
+SCENE IV.--[_The inner cavern, partially lighted with lamps. In the
+middle, folding doors guarded with iron bars; on one side a rough hewn
+staircase leading to a small door above._]
+
+Gomez, Marcos, _and conspirators, discovered in listening attitudes_.
+
+_Gom._ 'Tis strange, the time is past, and yet not here?
+
+_Mar._ Henriquez too is absent.
+
+_Gom._ Steps approach. [_Kneeling at the folding door._]
+Who knocks?
+
+_Hen._ (_without_) A friend.
+
+_Mar._ The pass word.
+
+_Hen._ Empire.
+
+_Gom._ Open. [Marcos _unbars the door_.]
+
+Henriquez, Melchior, _and_ Lucio, _enter through the folding doors,
+which_ Marcos _again closes_.
+
+_Gom._ Friends welcome. Melchior, is thy work complete?
+
+_Mel._ Complete, and fit for springing. Nought is wanting.
+The train is laid. One spark and all is done.
+Our chief alone----
+
+_Gom._ The private door unlocks.
+
+_Hen._ Caesario only has the key.
+
+_Mel._ 'Tis he.
+
+Caesario _descends the staircase swiftly. His looks are wild; his hair
+flows loose; and he grasps a bloody dagger_.
+
+_All._ Welcome, Caesario, welcome!
+
+_Caesa._ Ay, shout, shout,
+And, kneeling greet your blood anointed king,
+This steel his sceptre. Tremble, dwarfs in guilt,
+And own your master. Thou art proof, Henriquez,
+'Gainst pity. I once saw thee stab in battle
+A page who clasped thy knees; and Melchior, there
+Made quick work with a brother whom he hated
+But what did I this night? Hear, hear, and reverence!
+There was a breast on which my head had rested
+A thousand times; a breast which loved me fondly,
+As Heaven loves martyred saints; and yet this breast
+I stabbed, knaves, stabbed it to the heart! Wine, wine, there!
+For my soul's joyous. [Gomez _brings a goblet_.]
+
+_Hen._ Friend, what means this frenzy?
+What hast thou done? Where is Ottilia?
+
+_Caesa._ (_dashing down the goblet_) Dead!
+Dead, Marquis! At that word how the vault rings,
+And the ground shakes. It shall not shake my purpose.
+Murder and I are grown familiar, friends.
+The assassin's trade is sweet. I've tasted blood,
+And thirst for more. Say, is the mine----
+
+_Mel._ All's ready.
+
+_Caesa._ Who fires the train?
+
+_Hen. Mel. and all the conspirators._ I, I!
+
+_Caesa._ Oh, cheerful cry!
+Oh! glorious strife for guilt: Let each man throw
+His dagger in my casque; be his the service,
+Whose steel I draw.
+
+_Hen._ 'Tis me----
+
+_Caesa._ [_To_ Lucio.] Thy torch, boy, [_giving it to_
+Henriquez.] Take it!
+Here lies thy way--speed, speed, and let yon vaults,
+Shivering in fragments, tell my ravished ear
+Alfonso dies. Away, away!--[_On his throwing open the folding doors_,
+Amelrosa _is discovered_.]
+
+_Amel._ Forbear!
+
+_All._ The princess.
+
+_Amel._ No, no, Princess; 'tis a daughter,
+Fierce through despair, frantic with fear, and anguish.
+Hear me ye dread unknown: Yon flinty man
+Ne'er knew a father's care, and knows not now
+What 'tis to _love_, what 'tis to _lose_ a father.
+But ye, (if e'er a parent's hand hath dried
+Your infant tears; if e'er your eyes have streamed
+To see him weep, knowing your hand but scarred
+Gave him more pain, than his own heart torn piece meal)
+Oh! spare my father! Bid those hours revive
+Which filial love once bless'd; recall youth's feelings,
+And by those feelings learn to pity mine.
+Spare, spare my father!
+
+_Caesa._ [_Struggling to conceal his confusion._] Spare him? Sure
+thou rav'st:
+What fears my gentle love?
+
+_Amel._ I'm not thy love;
+Not gentle: Strange despair has changed my nature;
+Steeled my soft bosom, braced my woman's nerves,
+And brought me here, prepared and proud to perish,
+If my heart's blood may save my sire's from streaming.
+The savage tigress guards her new-born young
+With tenderest, fiercest care; the timorous swallow,
+If robber-hands approach her brood; defends it
+With eagle-fury; and what brutes will do
+To guard their offspring, born perhaps that day,
+Shall I not do for one, to whom I owe
+Full twenty years of love? Caesario, mark me,
+For by heaven's host, no power shall move my purpose:
+Or thou must save my sire, or murder me.
+
+_Hen._ What must be done?
+
+_Mel._ Time presses.
+
+_Caesa._ [_Recovering from his stupor._] Fire the train.
+
+_Amel._ [_Interposing between the inner vault and_ Henriquez.]
+He shall not.
+
+_Caesa._ Amelrosa.
+
+_Amel._ No, he shall not!
+Back, ruffian, back! and throw that torch away,
+Which burns to light my father's funeral pile:
+Here I'll defy thy rage, thus check thy malice,
+Thus bar thy road, and, if thou needs wilt pass,
+Make thee a way by trampling on my corse,
+I stir not else.
+
+_Caesa._ Nay, then I'll use my power,
+And, as thy husband now command thee----
+
+_Amel._ Thou?
+Man, thou canst not command me.
+
+_Caesa._ Art thou not
+My wife?
+
+_Amel._ I am; but ere I was a wife,
+I was a daughter, was a subject; nay,
+Am still a princess, and as such command
+Thee, traitor, thee! and bid thee turn from evil.
+[_To_ Henriquez,]--Away! you pass not.
+
+_Caesa._ Force her from the door!
+
+_Amel._ [_Clinging to a column._] Oh! for the Hebrew's strength
+    to shake yon vaults,
+And crush these traitors and myself.
+
+_Mel._ In vain
+You struggle.
+
+_Amel._ Cut my hands off! stab me! kill me!
+
+[_They force her away._]
+
+_Caesa._ Henriquez, to your work.
+
+[Henriquez _enters the vault_.]
+
+_Amel._ Oh! barbarous men,
+Where shall I turn--Caesario, dear Caesario!
+Once thou wert kind--Aid, aid my prayers, ye angels,
+And force this cruel man to save at once
+My husband's honour, and my father's life.
+Turn not away! look on me! see my tears,
+And pity me: Friend, husband, lover, all
+That makes life dear, I charge you! I implore you----
+
+_Hen._ [_Returning from the vault._] The train is fired.
+
+_Amel._ [_Dashing herself on the earth._] Barbarians! fiends, distraction!
+Fall, fall, ye vaults and crush me.
+
+[_A bugle horn sounds_, Amelrosa _starts from the ground_.]
+
+Hark the signal----
+He lives, he lives! [_Kneeling and clasping her hands._]
+Oh, Heaven, my thanks!
+
+_Caesa._ 'Tis done.
+
+[_The mine blows up with a loud explosion, and the back part of the
+vault bursts into flames._]
+
+_End of Act IV._
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_The interior of_ Orsino's _hermitage._
+
+Alfonso _is discovered sleeping._
+
+_Enter_ Orsino _and_ Ricardo.
+
+_Orsi._ Come they in force?
+
+_Ricar._ At least five thousand strong,
+But stronger far in loyalty than numbers.
+Scarce heard my tale, clamours of rage and pity
+Burst from the croud, and every peasant swore,
+He'd perish or preserve that sovereign's rights,
+Who used them ever for the poor man's good.
+
+_Orsi._ Honest Ricardo: When to serve thy king
+I judged thee truest of the true, I erred not.
+The lords to whom I sent thee, what reception
+Found'st thou from them?
+
+_Ricar._ Such as almost would prove,
+Ingratitude is not the vice of courts:
+But when I said, Orsino was to head them,
+Their zeal, their joy-----
+
+_Orsi._ No more.--Are they at hand?
+
+_Ricar._ An hour will bring them here.
+
+_Orsi._ We'll then tow'rds Burgos,
+And ere the swarth Castilian sees the sun
+Pour on his rip'ning vines meridian beams,
+Caesario's royal dream shall close forever.
+--[_Looking on_ Alfonso.]---He sleeps--Oh! come all ye who envy monarchs,
+Look on yon bed of leaves, and thank heaven's kindness,
+Which saved ye from the sorrows of a throne.
+
+_Ricar._ My dear, my injured master.
+
+_Orsi._ Go, Ricardo,
+Watch for your friends; and when from yonder rock
+Thou see'st their forces, warn me. [_Exit_ Ricardo.
+
+_Orsi._ [_To_ Alfonso,] Canst thou sleep,
+And sleep thus soundly on so rude a pallet?
+There's many a prince, whose couch is strown with roses,
+Finds their sweet leaves but serve to harbour aspies:
+There's many a conqueror stretched on down, who passes
+The live-long night to woo repose in vain,
+And view with aching, restless, sated eyes,
+The trophies which nod round his crimson bed.
+But fraud, ambition, treachery, plots, and murder,
+In vain would banish his repose who sleeps,
+Watched by his prospering kingdom's anxious angel;
+And lull'd to slumber by his people's prayers.
+But see,--He wakes.--(_Lowering his vizor._)
+
+_Alfon._ (_Waking._) Do what thou wilt, Caesario,
+But harm not my poor child.--How now!----Where am I?
+--What place--I see it all.--Lo!--where he stands,
+Whose well-timed warning snatched me from the flames,
+And led me hither.--Say, thou dread preserver,
+Mysterious stranger, ease a father's anguish:
+How fares it with my child? What news from Burgos?
+
+_Orsi._ Burgos believes thee dead. Caesario fills
+Thy vacant throne.
+
+_Alfon._ I ask not of my throne.
+My child! Oh! say, my child?----
+
+_Orsi._ Is safe, is well,
+And hopes ere long to see her sire once more
+Adorned, with regal pomp, and lord of Burgos.
+
+_Alfon._ Alas! vain hope.
+
+_Orsi._ Not so: thy faithful nobles,
+By me apprized, now haste to give thee succour.
+Ere night, Caesario falls; and piercing his,
+Thy just revenge shall print a mortal wound
+On his proud father's heart.
+
+_Alfon._ His father's?
+
+_Orsi._ Ay,
+On his, who paid thy love this morn with curses,
+Spurning thy proffered friendship--Know'st thou not
+Caesario is Orsino's son?
+
+_Alfon._ Just Heaven!
+And does Orsino love him?
+
+_Orsi._ Dearly, dearly,
+Loves him to madness; loves him with like fury.
+As hates he thee.--Oh! glorious field for vengeance:
+Think how 'twill writhe his haughty soul to hear,
+This son, this darling, perished on the scaffold,
+Branded, disgraced, a traitor, a foiled traitor.
+Joy, joy, Alfonso; ere 'tis night thy wrath
+Shall gorge itself with blood.
+
+_Alfon._ Now blessings on thee,
+Who giv'st me more than all my foes can take.
+Come, come, my friend; where are these troops? Away,
+Forward to Burgos.
+
+_Orsi._ (_Detaining him._) Whither now?
+
+_Alfon._ To Burgos.
+Down with the walls: make once Caesario mine--
+
+_Orsi._ And then----?
+
+_Alfon._ I'll seek his father, grasp his hand,
+And say,--"This stripling stole my darling daughter,
+Betrayed my confidence, usurped my throne,
+Aimed at my life, and almost broke my heart:
+But he's Orsino's son; Orsino loves him,
+And all's forgiven."----(Orsino _kneels, takes the
+king's hand, and presses it to his lips._)--How now?
+
+_Orsi._ (_Raising his vizor._) All is forgiven.
+
+_Alfon._ 'Tis he:--Orsino's self.
+
+_Orsi._ My pride is vanquished:
+My king--Thy hand, my king.
+
+_Alfon._ My heart, my heart;
+There find thy place, and never leave it more.
+Oh, from my joy again to name thee friend,
+Judge of my grief to think thou wert my foe;
+How could I doubt thee? how commit an error
+So gross.
+
+_Orsi._ No more; e'en now thou pay'st its penance:
+In this long chain of present woes, that error
+(Which seems at first so light) was the first link.
+It tore me from my son: else, reared by me,
+Formed in thy court, and schooled by my example,
+My son must sure have proved thy truest subject,
+Oh! learn from this, how weighty is the charge,
+A monarch bears; how nice a task to guide
+His power aright, to guide it wrong, how fatal.
+If subjects sin, with them the crime remains,
+With them the penance; but when monarchs err,
+The mischief spreads swift as their kingdom's rivers,
+Strong as their power, and wide as their domains.
+
+_Enter_ Ricardo.
+
+_Orsi._ Now friend?
+
+_Ricar._ From yonder height I caught distinctly
+The gleam of arms.
+
+_Orsi._ 'Tis well--Away, my sovereign,
+And join your troops; then shape your march tow'rds Burgos,
+Nor doubt the event, for who that loves his country.
+To save his king shall fear to die himself?
+None, surely none! The patriot glow shall catch
+From heart to heart throughout Castile, as swiftly
+As sparks of fire disperse through summer forests;
+Till all in care of thee forget themselves,
+And every good man's bosom bucklers thine!
+Forward, my king!--Lead on!       [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Scene II.--_A chamber in the palace._
+
+_Enter_ Henriquez _and_ Melchior.
+
+_Mel._ And the grave council
+Fell blindfold in the snare?
+
+_Hen._ They could not fail,
+So well Caesario spread it--With such art
+He told his tale, and in such glowing colours
+Painted Alfonso's worth, and his son's guilt,
+That all cried vengeance on the prince Don Pedro,
+And bade Caesario mount his forfeit throne.
+
+_Mel._ And he, no doubt, obeyed?
+
+_Hen._ In modest guise
+He owned his union with the princess gave him
+Some rights, but vowed, so heavy seemed its weight,
+He feared to wear a crown, so prayed them spare him:
+Till won by urgent prayer at length he yielded,
+And kindly deigned to be a king.
+
+_Mel._ He's here,
+And Bazil with him.
+
+_Enter_ Caesario, _father_ Bazil, _and attendants._
+
+_Caesa._ (_Entering._) Bid her rest assured,
+Her king is her first subject. But, good father,
+How bears her health, this shock? Say, looks she pale?
+Does she e'er name----
+
+_Bazil._ She bade me lead thee hither,
+And claimed my promise not to tell thee more.
+I'll warn her, thou art here.     [_Going._]
+
+_Caesa._ Say too, my heart
+Shares every pang of her's; that crowns are worthless
+Bought with her tears; that could my prayers my blood,
+Restore Alfonso's life----
+
+_Bazil._ Hold!--On that subject
+What thou wouldst tell her, will come best from thee.
+[_Exit._
+
+_Caesa._ Ha!--Meant he----No! Sure had he known my secret,
+The monk had canted 'gainst the guilt of treason,
+Thundering out saint-like curses!----Vile, vile chance,
+Which led the princess.--Yet what fear I now?
+She keeps my secret: then she loves me still,
+And, loving, must forgive me--Hark! I hear her.
+Now all ye powers of bland persuasion, shed
+Your honey on my lips. Come to my aid,
+Ye soft memorials of departed pleasures,
+Kind words, fond looks, sweet tears, and melting kisses!
+Sighs of compassion, drown her anger's voice!
+Smooth ye her frown, smiles of delight and love!
+Make her but mine once more, and this day crowns me
+Monarch of all my soul e'er wished from fate:
+Yes, in my wildest dreams I asked but this,
+"Love and revenge! A throne and Amelrosa!"--
+Retire!--I dread to meet her.
+
+[Henriquez &c. _Exeunt_.
+
+Amelrosa _enters, pale, and leaning on father_ Bazil.--Estella, Inis,
+_and ladies follow weeping._
+
+_Amel._ 'Tis enough,
+Good father, and one task performed, I'll meet
+That hour with joy, which seems to guilt so fearful.
+Leave me awhile: Anon, if time allows it,
+We'll talk again--Farewell, my friends.
+
+_Inis._ [_Kneeling._] Oh! princess!
+Oh! royal victim!
+
+_Amel._ Nay, be calm, my Inis.
+Pass a few years, and all had been as now,
+Perhaps far worse: Receive this kiss of pardon,
+And give it back in heaven!----Farewell!
+
+[_Exeunt_ Estella &c.
+
+_Manent_ Caesario _and_ Amelrosa.
+
+_Caesa._ How grief
+Has changed her! Ah! how sunk her eyes! her cheeks
+How pale!--She comes!--How shall I bear her anguish!
+
+_Amel._ Not to reproach, for that you sought a life,
+Which you well knew I prized above my own;
+Not to complain, that when my heart reposed
+On you for all its earthly joys, you broke it,
+I seek you now: but with true zeal I come
+To warn thee, yea with tears implore thee, turn
+From those most dangerous paths, which now thou tread'st.
+Oh! wake, my husband! Close thy guilty dream;
+Be just, be good! be what till how I thought thee!
+That when we part (as ere two hours me must)
+We may not part forever.
+
+_Caesa._ How to answer,
+Or in what words excuse--Could my best blood
+Wash out thy knowledge of my fault.--
+
+_Amel._ My knowledge?
+And say, on earth none knew it! say thy crime
+To eye of man were viewless as the winds,
+And secret as the laws which rule the dead:
+Could'st hide it from thyself?--Would not he know it,
+Whose knowledge more than all thou ought to dread,
+His, who knows all things?--Oh! short-sighted mortals!
+Oh! vain precautions! Oh! misjudging sense!
+Man thinks his secret safe, for no ear heard it!
+Man thinks his act unknown, for no eye saw it!
+But there was one above both saw and heard,
+When neither ear could hear, nor eye could----
+
+_Caesa._ Thou lovely moralist! Oh! take me! school me!
+Mould thou my heart, and make it like thine own.
+
+_Amel._ Dost thou speak thus?
+
+_Caesa._ Be that one act forgiven,
+And prove----
+
+_Amel._ Oh! that were light: As yet thou'rt guilty
+In thought alone. My father lives!
+
+_Caesa._ Indeed!
+
+_Amel._ He starts!--He feigned!--Oh! for heaven's love; my husband,
+Trifle not now! this hour is precious, precious!
+My soul is winged for heaven, and stays its flight,
+In hopes of teaching thine the way to follow:
+Let not its stay be vain! let my tears win thee,
+And turn from vice: Repent; be wise; be warned;
+For 'tis no idle voice that gives the warning;
+I speak it from the grave!
+
+_Caesa._ The grave!
+
+_Amel._ What fear'st thou?
+Why shudder at a name?--Oh! if thou needs
+Wilt tremble, tremble for thyself, not me.
+I die to live; thy death may be for ever!
+Short are my pangs; thy soul's may be eternal!
+
+_Caesa._ Die? Die!--Each word--Each look--Dreadful suspicions.
+But no! it cannot, shall not be!
+
+_Amel._ It shall not?
+As I've a soul, in one short hour, Caesario,
+That soul must kneel before the throne of God.
+
+_Caesa._ Mean'st thou----
+
+_Amel._ E'en so; I'm poisoned!
+
+_Caesa._ Torture! madness!
+Within there!
+
+_Re-enter father_ Bazil, Estella, &c.
+
+_Caesa._ Help! Oh! help! The princess dies!
+I'll speed myself.----
+
+_Amel._ [_Detaining him._] No, no, thou must not leave me:
+My hour of death is near, and thou must see it--
+
+_Caesa._ Distraction!
+
+_Amel._ Must observe, how calm the transit,
+How light the pain, how free death's cup from bitter,
+When virtue soothes, and hope exalts the soul,
+I've seen a sinner die; Last night I closed
+Ottilia's lids, and 'twas a night of horror!
+Each limb, each nerve was writhed by strange convulsions,
+Clenched were her teeth, her eye-balls fixed and glaring;
+She foamed, she raved, and her last words were curses!----
+But look, Caesario!--I can die, and smile!
+
+[_Sinks into_ Estella's _arms._
+
+_Caesa._ [_In despair._] My life!--My soul!----
+
+_Amel._ [_In a faint voice._] But while one moment's mine,
+By all thy vows of love, by those I breathed,
+And never broke through life, never, no, never,
+I charge thee, I conjure thee----
+
+[_Starting suddenly forward._]
+
+Powers of mercy,
+Whence this so glorious blaze?
+
+_Caesa._ How her eyes sparkle!
+
+_Amel._ Look, friends! Look, look!--My mother, my dead mother!
+Rich in new youth, and bright in lasting beauty!
+She floats in air; her limbs are clothed with light!
+Her angel-head is wreathed with Eden's roses!
+Heaven's splendours rove amid her golden locks,
+While her blest lips and radiant eyes pour round her
+Airs of delight and floods of placid glory!
+She moves!--She smiles!--She lifts her hand!--She beckons!
+World, fare thee well!--Mother, lead on!--I follow!
+[_Exit with_ Estella, &c.
+
+_Caesa._ [_Alone._] My brain! my brain!--Oh! I ne'er knew till now,
+How well I loved her!--[_Following her._]
+
+_Enter_ Henriquez.
+
+_Hen._ Turn, Caesario, turn!
+We're lost! Alfonso lives; e'en now his troops
+Assail our walls.
+
+_Caesa._ Confusion! is all hell
+Combined----
+
+_Enter_ Melchior.
+
+_Mel._ Betrayed, betrayed! The gates are opened;
+The townsmen join our foes; I saw the king
+First in the fight.----
+
+_Caesa._ The king?--My brain is burning;
+I'll cool it with his blood.--Forth, forth, my sword:
+Forth, nor be sheathed till I return thee dyed
+With royal gore--Away!
+
+[_Exeunt_ Henriquez, _and_ Melchior; Caesario _is following when_
+Amelrosa _shrieks from within: he stops and remains motionless._]
+
+_Amel._ [_Within._] Oh! mercy, mercy!
+
+_Inis._ [_Within._] She dies!
+
+_Estel._ [_Within._] Nay, hold her! hold her down!
+
+_Amel._ [_Within._] Oh! Oh!
+
+[_Solemn requiem chanted within._]
+
+Peace to the parted saint! Pure soul, farewell!
+
+[_The scene closes._]
+
+
+Scene III.--_A field of battle--alarums--thunder and lightning._
+
+_Soldiers cross the stage fighting._
+
+_Enter_ Orsino.
+
+_Orsi._ Oh! shame, shame, shame!--Sun, thou dost well to hide thee,
+Nor light Castile's disgrace.--Oh! I could tear
+My flesh for rage!
+
+_Enter_ Ricardo.
+
+_Ricar._ All's lost!--the foe prevails!
+What must be done, Orsino?
+
+_Orsi._ Where's the king?
+
+_Ricar._ He fights still.
+
+_Orsi._ Seek him! save him! bid him fly,
+Fly with all speed: thou know'st to find his courser.
+Away!
+
+_Ricar._ General, thou'rt wounded!
+
+_Orsi._ 'Tis no matter.
+
+_Ricar._ Thou'lt bleed to death.----
+
+_Orsi._ And if I should, I care not:
+The king, the king!--Oh! waste no thought on me:
+The best of subjects can but lose one life,
+But thousands perish when a good king bleeds.
+Nay, speed!
+
+_Ricar._ [_Looking out._] See! see! our troops--
+
+_Orsi._ They fly, by heaven!
+Turn, turn, ye cowards! 'Tis Orsino calls!
+Follow, slaves follow me, and die or conquer!
+
+[_Soldiers enter pursued by_ Henriquez, &c. Orsino _rallies them, and
+drives_ Henriquez _back_.]
+
+
+Scene IV.--_Before the walls of Burgos--The storm continues._
+
+_Enter_ Caesario.
+
+_Caesa._ Shall I ne'er find him? Shall my mother's spirit
+Still ask revenge in vain? This flame, which burns
+My blood up, shall it ne'er be quenched with his?
+'Tis he! 'tis he!--I see the high plume waving
+O'er his crowned helmet:--Thunders, cease, nor rob me,
+Of his expiring shriek!--Turn, turn, Alfonso!
+
+[_Exit._
+
+[_Shouts of victory._]
+
+_Enter_ Henriquez, Melchior, Marcos, Gomez, _and soldiers_.
+
+_Hen._ We triumph, Melchior!--See our trusty squadrons
+Range the field unopposed. But where's our chief?
+
+_Mar._ How now! what clamour.----
+
+_Mel._ Look, Henriquez, look!
+Caesario and the king in single combat!
+
+_Hen._ They come this way!--mark, with their ponderous blows
+How their shields ring!--Caesario loses ground!
+Yield thee, Alfonso!--_Interposing between_ Alfonso
+_and_ Caesario, _who enter fighting._
+
+_Caesa._ Back, I say! back, back!
+No arm but mine----
+
+_Alfon._ Caesario, pause, and hear me!
+Whate'er thou wilt----
+
+_Caesa._ Thy life!
+
+_Alfon._ Medina's dukedom,
+And Amelrosa.
+
+_Caesa._ Flames consume the tongue,
+That names her! Thou hast rent my wound anew,
+Recalling what was mine, but is no longer!
+Look to thy heart, for if my sword can reach it,
+Thou diest!--Come on!--[_They fight_; Alfonso
+_loses his sword, and is beaten on his knees._]
+
+_Caesa._ Thou'rt mine!--and thus--[_At the moment
+that he motions to stab_ Alfonso, Orsino, _without
+his helmet, deadly pale, and bleeding profusely,
+rushes in, and arrests his arm._]
+
+_Orsi._ Hold, hold!
+
+_Caesa._ My father bleeding! Horror!
+
+_Orsi._ Does that pain thee?
+Oh by this blood, a father's blood, the same
+Which fills thy veins, and feeds thy life I charge thee,
+Shed not thy king's.
+
+_Caesa._ Father thy prayers are vain!
+He broke my mother's heart! his own must bleed for't!
+Release my arm.
+
+_Orsi._ My son, I kiss thy feet:
+Thy father kneels; let him not kneel in vain.
+Nay, if thou stirr'st, my deadliest curse.----
+
+_Caesa._ 'Twill grieve me,
+But yet e'en that I'll brave:--Curse; still I'll strike!
+No more!
+
+_Orsi._ Can nought appease thee----
+
+_Caesa._ Nothing, nothing!
+
+_Alfon._ Nay, cease, Orsino: 'tis in vain----
+
+_Caesa._ True, true!
+This to thy heart.
+
+_Orsi._ Oh! yet arrest thy sword,
+My son.----
+
+_Caesa._ He dies!
+
+_Orsi._ One word, but one!
+
+_Caesa._ Despatch them.
+
+_Orsi._ Swear, ere you strike the blow, if still your power
+Answers your will, as now it does, the king
+Has not an hour to live!
+
+_Caesa._ An hour?--An age!
+Thrones shall not buy that hour. By hell I swear,
+Alfonso breathes his last, if fate allows me
+To live one moment more.
+
+_Orsi._ [_Stabbing him._] Then die this moment.
+
+_Caesa._ My heart, my heart!--Oh! oh!
+
+[_Falls lifeless at_ Orsino's _feet._
+
+_Alfon._ What hast thou done?
+
+_Orsi._ Preserved Castile in thee.
+
+_Mel._ Hew him to pieces!
+
+_Hen._ Monster thy son----
+
+_Orsi._ He was so; yet I slew him.
+Think ye, I loved him not?--Oh! heaven, the blood
+My breast now pours, gives me not half such pain
+As that which stains this poniard: yet I slew him,
+I, I his father!--And as I with him,
+So, traitors, shall your father deal with ye,
+Your father who frowns yonder.--[_Thunder._]--mark! he speaks!
+The avenger speaks, and stretches from the clouds
+His red right arm.--See, see! his javelins fly,
+And fly to strike you dead!--While yet 'tis time,
+Down, rebels, down!--Tremble, repent, and tremble!
+Fall at your sovereign's feet, and sue for grace.
+
+_The conspirators sink on their knees._
+
+_Alfon._ Oh! soul of honour.--Oh! my full, full heart!
+Orsino, friend!----
+
+_Orsi._ No more--Thy hand--farewell.
+Life ebbs apace--Oh, lay me by my son,
+That I may bless him ere I die--Pale, pale:
+No warmth:--No sense:--Not one convulsive throb:
+Not one last lingering breath on those wan lips!
+All gone! all, all!--So fair, so young, to die
+Was hard, most hard: canst thou forgive thy father,
+Canst thou, my boy? he loved thee dearly, dearly,
+And would to save thy life have died himself,
+Though he had rather see thee dead than guilty.
+My sand runs fast.--Oh! I am sick at soul!
+I'll breathe my last sigh on my son's cold lips.
+Clasp his dead hand in mine, and lay my heart
+Close to his gaping wound, that it may break
+'Gainst his dear breast.--My eyes grow faint and clouded.
+I see thy face no more, my boy, but still
+Feel thy blood trickle!--Oh! that pang, that pang!
+'Tis done--All's dark!--My son, my son, my son!
+
+[_Dies._
+
+_End of Act V._
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic
+Censor, Vol. I, No. 5, May 1810, by Various
+
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